Chapter Thirty: 20-20
A/N: Happy New Years, everybody! Hope yall are well. Really wish I was quicker with these, especially since I know at least some of you are still in quarantine/lockdown. Anywhoo, no matter how low 2020 got you (and even if it didn't), it's good to always be striving for improvement! Here's to a better new year for all of us!
Enjoy!
Perspective: Katherine
-x-x-x-
"Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, but you [can never] have all the information to make the [perfect] decision in the time of crisis."
-Aditi Chopra
A haze has you blinking.
Even through the dark, you feel that weight of it.
The heaviness.
The fog behind your eyes cloud over.
You try to let yourself go.
Maybe then, it wouldn't hurt so much.
-x-x-x-
Thirteen.
You remember it so vividly.
Halloween had just passed.
You'd gotten in trouble, along with Rebekah and Kol, when you'd decided to go around the neighborhood and trick instead of treat.
Amelia had laughed then. Sweet and elegant in a way you'd always admired. Your mother's grace. An aspiration of yours even at a younger age.
Her laugh was all that would reverberate in your ears days after her fiery death.
You don't even remember the last conversation you had with her.
A crash, they'd told you.
A crash so bad, the funeral demanded a closed casket service.
"Katherine?"
You'd been bleeding, terrified and confused as you slumped against Markos and yet, her voice…
Even through the static of the phone, it had felt like a wave so big, you'd been engulfed by it.
A voice you hadn't heard for so long. A voice you'd never thought you'd hear again because even in your wildest dreams, all you could conjure was the sound of her laugh.
"Katherine?"
You'd twisted, grimacing at the effect of that one sound you'd been so deprived of.
After all these years.
How?
Why?
You feel like sobbing.
Maybe you do.
-x-x-x-
"Miss Katherine, where have you been?"
You'd just shed your coat when you looked to Graciella. You'd been out all night. You thought she'd at least be in her bed, asleep by now.
Alarmed, you'd seen her distraught as she met you in the foyer of your house.
"Out," you said vaguely, preferring to ask, "What's wrong, Graciella? Did something happen?"
"Mister Pierce is dead."
You'd reeled back then because even the thought of it was absurd.
"Wha…What are you talking about?"
"Your grandfather. He's been murdered. In his own home."
Her words felt like a joke, and if it hadn't been for her distress, you would have had no problem thinking that it was.
"Dead?" you shook your head.
Graciella asked you again where you'd been, informing you that there would be cops coming around to ask Viktor's family for some answers.
When they came, you told them about Viktor, about your strained relationship with your baleful grandfather. You had nothing to hide. Nothing but your first meeting with Jeremy Gilbert at approximately the same time Viktor Pierce had been shot nine times in the chest.
A solid alibi had not been top of mind then.
You had no reason to believe that you'd eventually be framed for his murder.
-x-x-x-
For as long as you can remember he'd protected you.
That night Viktor died, Markos had come by, assuring you he had no idea what happened. Assuring you he was on the case and knew exactly where to start.
Through the years, after Amelia, the Pierce's head of security had always been somewhat of a father figure. How could he…betray you?
And for what? Tobias? The man he'd told you was responsible for Viktor. The man he knew you'd immediately assume was responsible even if he hadn't said a word. And yet… Markos had known all along who had killed his boss.
You're missing something.
If what Tobias says is true, how could Amelia let you take the fall for her?!
You shift.
How could you let Elena take the fall for Jackson?
After Viktor's death—after the frame job on you—did you really believe you could control what would happen? That you could fix this…this everything?
"What are you thinking?"
Your jaw unclenches as your doubts fall back; doubts you rarely ever let loose, otherwise it would consume you.
"Nothing," you brush off easily.
Your eyelids feel heavy and you wonder why you bother keeping them open in the dark.
"Nothing, huh? That's exactly what—" Damon cuts off when you both jerk forward.
He holds you steady, but the movement has you whimpering.
Damon curses, asking, "Are you okay?"
You only grunt.
A long moment passes, but the truck doesn't move. You find your voice, "What's going on?"
"We're here…" he trails off, depicting his uncertainty.
"Why do you say it like that?"
"Because we're early," he says. You see his watch as he raises his wrist, the hands on the clock glowing to indicate the time in the dark. "It usually takes 3 hours to get to where we're going."
"Where are we going?"
"I wanted to change over to a car before meeting with the Mikaelsons."
You don't respond.
"I'll be right back."
Damon gets up and you shiver at the loss of warmth. You pull the blanket around you closer.
Further away, you hear Damon's footsteps, and a latch is pushed before it's pulled. You squint. Bright light strikes your vision as the thick truck door slides up high enough that you have to close your eyes.
The door slides down automatically, bouncing at the spring in its mechanism.
You see the meager light coming in from the end of the cargo box. It barely illuminates the space. There are skids and boxes in the way, but you can tell the doors at the end are suspended open, slightly.
'What's happening…' you wonder, feeling your vision adjust.
You shiver again, hating the feeling of cold sweat on your skin.
You feel nauseous. God.
"Damon?" you call, feeling parched. Your throat hurts.
When he doesn't respond after a long moment, your paranoia creeps up.
Again, you call, "Damon."
No response.
It takes a moment, your entire body already aching at what you intend to do but you push yourself up to sit. Cursing at the pain in your side, your legs swing over the side of the cot eventually. You shut your eyes again, holding your torso and willing away the vertigo that comes with sitting up… or is it because of the blood loss?
'Ugh.'
The door slides back up like someone is holding it open before they climb in.
You don't see anything with the skids in the way until he comes towards you. The man steps forward and suddenly, you can see him better.
You don't know what sound you make but you try to scramble back at the sight of him, "You..."
You recognize this man. He works for the Pierces. For Tobias.
"Whoa," with his hands up, he steps back. "I'm not here to hurt you, love."
"Damon. Da—ugh."
You hunch over, feeling the tenderness of your side and the aching all over. Getting up wasn't such a good idea.
The man comes close, "I'm not your enemy, I swear."
Your whimpering prompts him to come closer to inspect and that's when you make your move.
You grab the gun on his waist and proceed to kick him away, pointing his own weapon in his face.
He freezes.
You pant, out of breath as you push yourself up onto the metal wall with some difficulty. You hold your side.
"Hey hey, don't shoot! I'm a friend. A friend!"
"Yeah? You and apparently everybody I know."
Your hand is shaking, and your vision is blurry, but you focus. Maybe if you shoot him in the leg, he can't chase you out.
"Katherine, don't," you hear Damon say. Your gaze averts for a second.
In one quick motion, the man pulls the gun from your hand and points it at you.
You flinch, waiting for the shot.
Damon swears something unintelligible and rushes forward.
The way he turns his back to the other man with the gun is baffling. The man works for Tobias. He trusts him?
"Enemy…" you hiss as he grabs your arms to steady you.
"No," the Salvatore shakes his head.
"I know him," you get out. "Pierces…"
"I know."
"What?"
"My friend. The one I told you about. Enzo."
Damon tries to coax you towards him, to lean on him and stop putting strain on yourself but you push at him, confused.
"I told you, mate. Me and her have met before," Enzo holsters his gun.
"It's okay. He's working for Tobias right now. That's true." Damon admits, ignoring him, "But only to help me."
"No, but he…" you trail off, but it seems Enzo understands.
"I used to work for Viktor before, yes," he confirms. "But when he died, I stayed on with your uncle. To help Damon. Gather information for him… and also, the money, really."
Damon's sharp head turn is reprimanding but Enzo only shrugs.
"What? I'm being honest here."
"He's on our side, believe or not," Damon assures with a sigh when your eyes dart between them. "I told you, you weren't my only source in your family. You know it's true."
You trust him, but you hesitate. It isn't like you know every single person that Viktor has worked with—god, that would be impossible—but you remember Enzo. He seldom worked with Viktor, but you'd met him far back enough that you have to quell your doubt.
It's hard to believe he could have been a mole for that long, but truth be told, you never did see Enzo all that much. He wasn't enough of a prominent player, just an underling that your grandfather or uncle wouldn't take much notice of unless he stepped out of line.
"Since Viktor…" you question, uselessly. You have nothing to say. You don't trust him.
"Since Viktor," Enzo affirms.
"Then you knew about Robero," you conclude.
"How do you think your boy here got to him otherwise?"
Damon shakes his head, "I didn't get everything from you."
"You say, but I highly doubt you would have gotten to the old man any other way."
"So, that ambush on me," you say, suddenly feeling tenser. Your nails dig into Damon's shoulder at the thought, but you keep the obvious terror out of your voice. "Convenient… to leave that part out."
The smirk leaves Enzo's face for a moment, "Sorry about that, love. Of course, the big bad wolf had a plan, just never mentioned when that would be."
"Enzo can be an asshole, he knows that. But not anymore than… me, as much as I hate to say," the Salvatore assured with a signature roll of his eyes. "He's on our side, I promise."
"I'd advise my friend not make promises he can't keep but it's the truth."
You don't concede to anything but the pain you feel.
You lean onto Damon's shoulder.
Enzo sighs deeply, "Speaking of, I've just gotten a call from the demon himself. I need to head back soon."
Damon turns to him, "What does he want?"
"Tobias needs us to escort some doctor to one of his mansions. Probably for that nasty gunshot wound he's got."
The Salvatore nods. "I've got pretty much everything. If you need to go now, we're good."
"Beautiful."
"Elena," you insert before he leaves. You still don't trust him completely, but you've got to work with what you have. "If she's…"
"If I see your sister, I'll get word to Damon as soon as possible. Don't you worry, gorgeous," he winks as he leaves, pulling the cargo door open and jumping off the truck.
-x-x-x-
A few hours later, Damon has given you another shot of morphine, plenty of water, and the blanket to wrap yourself with like a warm burrito battling the cold.
"I'm not hungry…" you complain, much more interested in closing your eyes and falling asleep again. Everything hurts so much less when you're asleep.
"You have to eat. Plus, you were supposed to have a meal with this flu medicine… I probably should've read the instructions first, huh?"
"Aren't we supposed to meet the Mikaelsons?" you question, taking a spoonful of soup from him when he doesn't let up. Chicken noodle, he said, but it doesn't taste like anything.
"In a bit. Freya already found what I was looking for."
"That was fast," you say, but you wouldn't expect any less from the eldest Mikaelson.
"Seriously. Should've just talked to her instead of Kol."
"Don't bother," you snort but stop because it makes your side hurt. Aside from your vulnerability, your words are brusque. "You wouldn't have been able to sleep with her for info."
"I…" taken aback, he shakes his head. "Katherine…"
Normally, his response is just as curt but instead, his baby blues soften at your contempt.
Your gaze dares him to apologize again because there is no misreading your tone. He doesn't.
You roll your eyes.
"I hate them too…" you say after a long, excruciating moment. "You could've just asked."
His expression is solemn. Anything he says now can't change what's already done, so he doesn't say anything.
Neither of you say a word as he feeds you the next half of the bowl.
"I didn't know if I could ask you to betray the Pierces'. They were—they are family..."
"Don't…" He'd had a first and second time to tell you the truth.
"I'm not making excuses."
"No, don't…" you lay your head down onto the pillow after pushing away the spoon.
Damon places the utensil back in the bowl and blinks at you for a moment.
Waiting.
Patient.
"Don't… betray me again," you mutter oddly as your eyes shut. You could've just left it at "don't." Not even you knew you were going to say that. Maybe you've gone soft. Maybe you do give people second (third) chances.
(Maybe you just want a second chance—from someone who's unlikely to forgive you now that she knows the truth.)
Or maybe it's all the stupid drugs in your system because as genuine as that is, you doubt you'd have said any of that out loud in your right mind.
It almost makes you cringe.
He responds but you don't hear him, too lost in the dark behind your eyelids to catch what he says. His promises to amend things.
It doesn't matter anyways because he'll do it again.
Betray your trust.
They always do. (You always do.)
By now, it's inevitable. (And if Elena doesn't see that. You wouldn't know what else to say to her.)
-x-x-x-
You wake up when you feel yourself falling. Your jolt is steadied with a gentle hand and a soft voice.
"It's alright."
You blink at the bright sunlight as Damon fixes the blanket around your shoulders. You want to tell him it's too hot for a blanket but it's also way too cold at the same time.
"Where are…?" you rasp.
"I'm going to meet your friends in a bit. I'll tell them where you are. They'll be here soon."
"And if they're not?"
"That's what this is for," he places a cellphone in your hand and adds, "and this."
He puts a gun over the cellphone.
"You know how, right?"
You nod, honestly only half awake.
"In case no one shows up, the keys are in the ignition. You're 5 minutes outside of Lynchburg."
Damon also gives you a bottle of water and instructs you to keep hydrated before he leaves. You barely realize he had already placed you in the driver's seat as your eyes shut close.
-x-x-x-
That haze is back.
It's brighter now, though.
It hurts your eyes.
You shut them close, but you hold on.
Dammit.
-x-x-x-
Wood on wood, the gavel sounded as it pounded rapidly.
"Order, order in the court!"
The dissent quieted as Judge Grigoras peered at Robero over the rim of her glasses.
"Mr. Vim, please verify to the court what you said."
You tensed then, a stony disposition to your already stiff posture.
You'd heard what he said.
So had the rest of the court.
Robero cleared his throat and avoided the eye contact you were trying to make. You had sat at the front row of the prosecutor's side—Viktor's side, and on the side that, ultimately, called the old man up as a witness. There was no way he wasn't deliberately refusing to look your way.
From your peripheral, you could see Viktor's lawyers had glanced at you with the same confusion you felt.
"The night of the murder. I told the detective at the scene that only Mister Tobias had come to visit his father."
"And that wasn't true?" Tobias' lawyer questioned, pacing in front of the witness box.
"No," Robero admitted. "Miss Katherine had been there as well."
"That's not true!" you'd stood up, accusing, "Why are you lying, Robero?"
Just the night before he had promised you, just as he had tentatively told you before Viktor's lawyers even asked for his testimony, that he would tell the truth on the stand. That Tobias had come to his father's mansion with someone else on the intent to kill the patriarch.
"Why are you lying?!" you repeated as the whispers rose again.
You felt Freya pulling at your wrist to sit back down.
Judge Grigoras pounded the gavel.
Order was regained.
Robero shook his head. "I wanted to protect her."
"He's lying!" you shouted, vaguely hearing Freya's plea for you to calm down.
"Ms. Pierce, sit down or I will have you escorted out of my court room."
You didn't listen. Why would you? You couldn't allow Robero to spew out lies like this, because that made you livid. Livid and confused, but you can't stop yourself.
You were so angry as the bailiffs arrested you on the spot. You were pulled from the room just shy of kicking and screaming.
You weren't allowed to witness the rest of the trial, but you had been sitting in an interrogation room, hours later, when you heard about the verdict.
Tobias Pierce was found not guilty.
-x-x-x-
Your eyes open with that same feeling of dread that you'd had back then.
In that interrogation room.
Tobias Pierce's trial had happened in the few months following Viktor Pierce's death. Quicker than any normal trial, any lawyer would tell you.
Robero had confessed to knowing about a second visitor.
His words back then had condemned you.
At the stand, his lies had fueled your anger, but he hadn't lied about everything.
"I wanted to protect her."
A contrived truth, you think now, because he had been trying to protect "her."
Now, you know he'd meant Amelia.
Back then, you couldn't have even fathomed the possibility.
And all that had been silently compounded by the fact that less than a week before that day in the court room, Jeremy Gilbert had been brutally murdered in front of you.
You clench your jaw as that pit in your stomach suddenly lurches up.
'Fuck.'
Quick, you shove the car door open and stumble out, falling to your knees in time to hurl out the last thing you ate.
You quiver at the action, dizzy and hurting.
Your vision blurs as your fingers curl around the grass beneath you.
Where was Damon… Where was Freya? Anybody?
You can feel yourself involuntarily trying to let go again.
The weightlessness is heavy.
Thick.
Dark spots form in your vision.
"Katherine!"
A hand rests on your back as arms snake around you and soft fingers hold your chin.
You cringe, already blacking out as you recognize those blonde curls.
You see her face. The concern in her blue eyes. Caroline.
You let yourself go.
