A.N.: So I do want to make a point, in this story, of Giulia prioritising Zita (and Spencer and Grayson) over whatever supernatural drama is going on.


Resurgam

14

Overture


Richmond International Airport was bustling: She waited, her phone in one hand, a sign in the other. It read 'Bad Wolf', and she could see Tyler's eyes rolling even behind his sunglasses, as his lips twitched and revealed a vibrant white smile. He dropped his duffel to grab her in a full-body hug, lifting her off her feet.

Delight filled her, beaming, and she laughed softly. It had been far too long since they had seen each other. She enjoyed their hug, trying to squeeze the life out of each other, letting each other's scents wash over them, familiarising themselves. She cupped Tyler's strong jaw, grinning.

"It's good to see you, Tyler," she said warmly.

"You too, Giulia," Tyler smiled. "You look insanely good."

"Why, thank you," Giulia beamed. "You're not hard on the eyes, either. What's with this?" She lightly scratched the scruff on his chin.

"Pure laziness."

"Well, sloth looks good on you," Giulia chuckled. "Do you want a coffee? I was gonna take you to lunch before we went back to Mystic Falls, but Zita got sick, so I'm afraid I'm kind of in a rush…"

"Coffee sounds great," Tyler groaned, stretching. She grabbed his duffel, and Tyler slung his arm around her shoulders, already chatting excitedly. She was practically skipping as they reached her car. She was happy to see her friend again. He kept checking his phone, and Giulia asked, "That Zara?"

"And Mom," Tyler muttered, typing away deftly. "She's super excited I'm gonna be home for a few days."

"You have told her you're going camping with the boys, haven't you?" Giulia asked, and Tyler nodded.

"I'm gonna be spending time with her before Fourth of July; we go to the National Park Friday afternoon," Tyler said. "Mom's asked if she can drive me back to the airport."

"Yeah, she called me," Giulia smiled.

"She's gonna cry again," Tyler sighed, and Giulia grinned.

"Yeah, well, Spencer kind of soothes the sting of your abandonment," Giulia said, giving him a sidelong look. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Promised Carol I'd get a dig in on her behalf. You do you, Ty: New Orleans looks good on you."

"It's the only place I've ever felt like I belong," Tyler said softly, repeating something he'd often said to her. It didn't sting like she'd thought it might, hearing that: After all, Mystic Falls wasn't the same without him. She drove them to a drive-thru place downtown where the iced drinks were ambrosial. And, because it was Tyler, and selfishly she wanted to keep him to herself for a little while, she drove them to a small, pretty park and they climbed out of the car, sitting at a picnic-bench to sip their drinks.

"'Kay, so, what did you want to tell me over lunch?" Tyler asked, his features almost solemn, carved from stone. His Teacher Look.

Giulia sighed, sipping her drink. "Klaus came back to Mystic Falls."

"What?" Tyler's werewolf curse had been triggered so that Katherine could set up the sacrifice ritual for Klaus, bartering Tyler's life for her freedom. Mason had been her first choice; Tyler, her insurance policy. Giulia had swept the rug from under her feet, protecting them; a female werewolf named Jules had lost her life during the ritual that saw Klaus unleashing his werewolf nature, warring with his vampire status. "You couldn't tell me this over the phone?"

"I didn't want you to get spooked and cancel," Giulia said honestly. "Spencer's had enough disappointments." Tyler sighed heavily, nodding his agreement. "Anyway…nothing's happened yet."

"Why'd he come back?"

"Well…you know what he was up to, all these years," Giulia said, and Tyler nodded; he had befriended members of a very old pack that had historically had the run of the land that was now southern Louisiana, specifically New Orleans. They were the most prolific pack, one of the oldest, and unique: They could also have been an early target for Klaus. Part of the reason Giulia hadn't wanted to give Tyler opportunity to cancel his trip was because…Tyler was no longer the overwhelmed kid thrust into the supernatural world: He was an adult, a teacher - an alpha. He had done a lot, over the last ten years, not just to get in with the Crescent pack, but to lead it. Protect it. He had done what none of the other wolves could do, and protect the rest while Klaus tried to hunt them.

Stefan's brief tenure on the Timberwolves Varsity football team with Tyler, and his abhorrence for Klaus, was all they needed to form an alliance years ago, misguiding Klaus, covering werewolf tracks, helping them vanish into the mists of the bayou… A twenty-year-old Tyler had stood up to Klaus, in all his rage: And Stefan had stopped Klaus killing him.

Because Tyler was the only werewolf they ever found in the bayou. Other packs hadn't been as lucky, before word spread; but the Crescents remained untouchable by the great and terrible Klaus.

Still…Klaus wasn't the forgiving type, and he had a long memory; he would remember Tyler's face, his defiance. The fact that Tyler hadn't appeared to be frightened of him; hadn't accepted his bullshit, couldn't be bullied, persuaded or tormented into betraying his pack.

"Klaus wants answers," Giulia said quietly. "He wants to know why the ritual didn't work - didn't work the way he'd convinced himself it would."

"Maybe if he'd asked a werewolf, instead of trying to kill them all, he might have something closer to an answer," Tyler said coolly, and Giulia nodded. "We've taught ourselves over generations to target vampires as our prey of choice…he's at war with himself."

"Yep," Giulia nodded. "Only, he thinks something went wrong with the sacrifice; he's not what he imagined, and he's blaming everyone but himself. So he's back in town…with his sister."

"And Stefan?" Tyler asked, ignoring her comment on a sister.

"Stefan's back, too," Giulia nodded, sighing.

"Been a while since I saw him," Tyler said thoughtfully.

"New Orleans," Giulia said, and Tyler nodded. "That was your first brush with Marcel, wasn't it?"

"I wouldn't let him kill Stefan for breaking some of his 'rules'; Stefan wouldn't let Klaus kill me," Tyler shrugged. "Marcel's okay. He's no Klaus - or Stefan, for that matter. He's not perfect, and he's a stubborn bastard…but he's got his head on right. He cares."

"Still no progress?" Giulia asked, referring to the Crescent pack.

"Not with the werewolves, the ones who've triggered the curse," Tyler sighed, shaking his head.

"What about Jack?" Giulia asked carefully, and the black look Tyler gave her said it all. When Giulia had lived in New Orleans working on her PhD, she had met Tyler's friends, Zara, and Jack, high-school sweethearts who had bonded to each other in the foster-care system since childhood. After learning about the Crescents, Tyler had noticed that Jack had the uncanny birthmark all Crescent wolves did, a crescent moon shrouded by clouds, marked onto his shoulder… A foster-kid, Jack had been belligerent about learning where he had come from; he had discovered his heritage.

He had chosen to trigger his werewolf curse: And then he had been found out by Marcel's crew. He had gone missing; Zara had been frantic for months, filed a missing-persons report with the police, before Jack reappeared, on a full-moon night. The last time she had ever seen him: He had abandoned her, committing himself to the Crescents.

He had left Zara pregnant.

"Only see him on the full-moon, and even then he's…different," Tyler said grimly. "Doesn't even ask about her anymore; he's so wrapped up in being a wolf and being hard-done-by."

"It was his choice. He knew what he was getting into - you made sure of that," Giulia frowned, and Tyler pulled a face. To scare the ever-living daylights out of Jack, Tyler had taken off his moonlight ring to transform fully in front of him. Even the fact that triggering the curse took taking someone's life hadn't stopped Jack. "He's only been a wolf a few years, what does he know about the pack history?"

"Some guys suit martyrdom; he has the face for it," Tyler said.

"That's not good."

"He's fighting his way up the ranks," Tyler said, giving her a look.

"As a wolf," Giulia pointed out. "I'd care more about the man." She gave him a proud smile, and Tyler's lips twitched: He knew how proud of him she was.

"Yeah… You get a bad alpha, the pack doesn't last," Tyler murmured, eyes downcast as he sipped his drink.

"And Marcel's still supportive?" A freshman at Tulane, Tyler had learned about the Crescent pack: He had learned about the curse, met the werewolves on the full-moon when they became men again. He had learned how many people had been left behind, struggling, because of the curse, because a good number of the Crescent pack had chosen to shirk all responsibility and live as wolves.

Tyler had once told Giulia that for a good while, he had lived by the mantra, WWGD?

What would Giulia do?

Years later, it wasn't about what Giulia would do: It was now about what Tyler could do.

Instead of getting himself killed trying to convince or strong-arm Marcel into reversing the curse on the Crescent pack, Tyler had focused on the ones left behind. The families left to struggle. The vulnerable. The Crescent pack had returned to nature, to the bayou, they thrived as a wolf pack: They didn't need help. Some even didn't want to lift the curse… But the ones left behind, the belligerent kids, the disabled grandmothers, the single-parents, struggling to get by while their sons, mothers, uncles, granddaughters cavorted in the bayou, no thought to mortgage repayments, health insurance, homework and electricity bills, to the damage they had left behind. It was unfair to say all of the Crescents took that attitude; but the longer they remained wolves, the less they remembered their human lives.

They had bonded with their Packs and the ones they had left behind…had been left behind.

Tyler had focused on building a support-system for the humans and un-triggered relatives who had been left behind, who knew the secret, and protected and supported their werewolf relatives: Free babysitting, homework tutoring, cooked meals, tune-ups for their trucks, even just someone to come over and fix the squeaky shutter and clean the gutters, prepare the windows for hurricane season. To bring news, if there was any.

Sometimes it fell to Tyler, because he was the bridge between the Crescents and their families, to tell a family that their daughter or grandfather had died out in the bayou.

After all, they weren't the only predators out there.

Marcel had cursed the Crescents: But he did not allow his crew to torment the wolves, not out in the bayou. Not without a cure for werewolf-bites. He was too smart for that; and he hadn't cursed the werewolves out of pure malice. It took someone wise, and removed from it, to see that Marcel had saved a great many lives by cursing the Crescents: He had put an end to a civil war that was creating collateral damage. And Marcel loathed anyone who took collateral damage for granted: He had his rules. He protected the vulnerable. And cursing the werewolves to become men only on the full-moon was his way of negotiating the terms of the fallout.

"Marcel appreciates what I'm doing for the ones left behind," Tyler said. "As long as there's kids involved, the vulnerable, he just lets me do my thing. Anyway…he's distracted at the moment, knocking around with some witch from the Vieux Carré. I don't know, there was some kinda rumpus. Witches are closing ranks; I can't get anything out of 'em. Have seen fewer familiar faces around the Quarter, though."

"Keep your head down," Giulia warned seriously.

"For sure. Is Kol still in Mystic Falls?"

"He is."

"Maybe he has some insight into what's going on. If it's some dust-up between the witches and Marcel, after that Francoise vampire left town… I just wanna know what it might mean for the Crescents," Tyler sighed. "Marcel was tight-lipped when I saw him; I knew better than to ask."

"You saw him recently?"

"Yeah. Working lunch," Tyler said, rolling his eyes, amused. Marcel ruled New Orleans as quasi-elected king of the supernatural factions, which were eternally at war: He liked to get a feel for what was going on in each of the communities - witch, vampire and werewolf - to better handle any issues that might be brewing, and to ensure they never reached human notice. Inviting Tyler to the Abattoir told everyone that Marcel acknowledged Tyler as a leader of the Crescents: It didn't matter that Tyler wasn't one by blood, he had earned a leadership role due to the work he did for those left behind by the curse.

"Speaking of Marcel... I come bearing bribes…" Tyler gave her an ironic smile, unzipping his backpack, and pulled out a heavy wedge of thick envelopes wound closed with string, and several manila folders.

"What's this?" Giulia asked, as Tyler handed her a smaller, expensive envelope, hand-addressed to her in neat calligraphy. She had always been thrown by Marcel's exquisite penmanship. He was a gutsy, gorgeous man, larger than life, oozing sex and charisma, and yet he hand-wrote letters in exquisitely beautiful cursive - and not just on regular printer-paper, either; he maintained a working-desk with stationery.

"He's been stalking your social-media presence," Tyler said, smirking, and Giulia raised her eyebrows.

"He's been stalking Caroline."

"He loves blondes." Giulia grinned. "No, but, really; he knows you qualified and he's been watching what you and Caroline have been doing in Mystic Falls. It's the dirty secret everyone knows that New Orleans was abandoned after Katrina; parts of it are still derelict. Since Francoise left the city, Marcel's been…acquiring properties, land. Much as he tries to deny it, he's a do-gooder: He wants to give back to the community. Said inside those folders, you'll find details on properties and projects… He wants your input."

"If I know Marcel, he wants more than my input," Giulia said thoughtfully. She…liked Marcel. He was tough as nails but compassionate, loyal but unyielding, handsome, and vulnerable, wise, but open to learning, an alpha male who raised rather than belittled the vulnerable, fiery but contrite, could admit when he was wrong. He was also a very astute businessman, ruling over an empire he had built up from the charred remains of an opera-house: He couldn't have done that without having an understanding of people, and how to utilise their talents, how to motivate them. Reciprocity.

"I think I'll leave these to open later," Giulia said, neatening the stack of envelopes and folders, tucking Marcel's letter into her handbag.

"Make sure and tell him I gave you all that stuff," Tyler said, and Giulia nodded.

"I will; don't worry, I won't let him kill the messenger," she assured him.

"While we're here… Zara wanted to make sure I gave you this when there aren't any distractions, so you can look through it. She made me swear on the spirit of Robin Williams, so you know it's serious," Tyler said, reaching into his backpack again. He withdrew a black scrapbook.

"Oh my god," Giulia said softly, taking the heavy book, realising what it had to be before she opened it. "Zara finished it?"

"Only took her years," Tyler grinned, as Giulia opened the cover. One Night in N'Awlins… Quirky, clever Zara had created a parody of 'One Night in Bangkok', turning the song into an illustrated poem as the front-cover to an insanely beautiful scrapbook Zara had created, documenting the eight months Giulia had lived in the Crescent City, working on her double-PhD, teaching and writing and studying and partying.

For a half-hour, Giulia sat, carefully turning the pages of the scrapbook Zara had put years into creating. It wasn't just photographs stuck to paper: Zara's creativity, her sassy, clever, vibrant personality was in every single detail, every tiny brad, every illustration, every saved comic-strip, every handwritten story that triggered memories. There were recipes; and photo-booth pictures; ticket-stubs; and decorated sleeves holding mix-CDs; there were fliers for every single dance and social Zara had organised on campus, including the memorable 24-hour charity Dance-a-Thon; step-by-step photographs for a DIY gumball machine that had been part of Tyler's teaching degree, and which had delighted the eternal-child Zara; dried flowers from sweaty bayou hikes; seashells saved from trips to the beach; recipes and photographs from chaotic cooking classes; sun-drenched dinner-parties; daiquiri recipes; the secret ingredient in Zara's queso; playlists of their favourite songs; maps of their favourite bike-rides, photographs, recipes for the picnics they had prepared; the intense topless photo-shoot they had done to promote breast-cancer fundraising, way before Blurred Lines blew up; the dozen vegetarian taco recipes they had tormented meat-obsessed Tyler and Jack with, and which Giulia still enjoyed; the fashion-show Zara had organised; charity Mud Runs; ghost tours of the Quarter; Giulia's first beignet; dinner at Zara's favourite seafood place, bibs tied around their necks; costume-parties and no-boys-allowed sleepovers; making Christmas cookies, including Zara's favourite caramel-turtle thumbprint cookies…

Memories of her brief but vibrant life in New Orleans, with Tyler, Zara and Jack, flooded through her, making her smile as she slowly turned the pages.

New Orleans had been one of the happiest times in Giulia's life. Zara's friendship was extraordinary; Giulia missed it.

"Look how young we all were," she gasped, shaking her head, staring at a photograph taken by a waitress at Jack's favourite restaurant on his twenty-first birthday. "The BZ era."

Tyler frowned. "Byzantium?"

"Before Zita," Giulia smiled. She glanced up at Tyler. "How was she, putting all this together? Jack still has his face in these pictures."

"Yeah, well, I passed on your comment that Noah might wanna know where he gets his funky looks from when his parents get around to tell him he's adopted," Tyler shrugged.

"How is he?" Giulia smiled warmly.

"He's great. Growing too fast. We get him every couple weeks, when Mark and Evelyn have date-night. He loves to cook; he loves soccer, and colouring; he's super-into dinosaurs and being outside right now. Loves hiking; he's just had his training-wheels taken off his little bike. Mark's been taking him bouldering. He likes science stuff. Animal shows; planets," Tyler grinned. "He's just this chill, sweet kid."

"Sounds like this kid I used to know," Giulia said, smiling warmly. Tyler smiled, shrugging bashfully.

"Yeah, well… Hey, how's things with Hayley?" Tyler asked, and Giulia gave him a look. He sighed heavily.

"In what context?" she asked.

Tyler shrugged awkwardly, glancing around the park for a few minutes before answering; "I found out some things, that's all. Know she was looking for family when she joined up with her old pack."

"She has a family; and she's not interested," Giulia said coldly, thinking of Spencer in the Children's Library.

Tyler frowned. "She still running around on Uncle Mason? Why does he put up with that?"

"He thinks it's what's best for Spencer," Giulia said sadly.

Tyler sighed heavily, looking grim. "Sometimes, staying together for the sake of the kids is the last thing the kid needs."

He spoke from experience. If Spencer was afraid of Hayley's violent temper, Tyler had always dreaded his father, who had been a bullying tyrant.

"We'll see what happens," Giulia shrugged. "Even Mason has a bullshit limit."

"He has a pretty high tolerance."

"It's been alluded to that the sex is worth it."

"Except she's having sex with some other dude."

"Yeah, well…"

"So what about Klaus?" Tyler asked, as Giulia neatened up the files and Zara's scrapbook, gathering everything to head back to the car.

"Until he pulls it together and comes back from the National Park, we're okay."

"Come on…let's get going. I'm excited to meet Zita," Tyler smiled.

"You've met her."

"She was a squished meatball; they don't count at that age. She's like a proper little human now."

"Ish," Giulia corrected, grimacing, and piled everything into her car. She cranked the air-conditioning, the two of them hot-blooded and panting in the heat, even sat in the shade, and drove them back to Mystic Falls: Instead of heading straight to Mason's, Tyler insisted they go to Giulia's house, so he could meet Zita - and put her mind at ease about her.

Given that Giulia had left her in the care of Elijah, until Caroline arrived, she was anxious but not frantic: She had never left Zita with Elijah before, not the way she would be completely happy to leave her with Finn or Gyda.

Baby-steps.


The gentle snuffling noises from upstairs told him that Giulia's daughter was sleeping soundly: He entered the shady cool of Giulia's home, her three dogs his constant chaperones as he familiarised himself with the house that he recognised instantly, and yet which had altered so much.

Weeks had passed, and yet it was a decade since Elijah had lived here with Giulia. The house was still sleek, minimalist and stunning, full of texture and character, fine details and expert craftsmanship. Ten years ago, Giulia had been slowly settling in: She had abandoned the Boarding House for her own safety, and turned this lake-front house into her fortress and base of operations.

Now, it was the home she shared with her daughter. It was still sparsely, sleekly decorated, and what she had collected over the years had been especially chosen for sentimental reasons; he wondered about the memories tied with each meticulously curated item. He spent twenty minutes looking at the framed photographs downstairs, the contents of bookcases, running his hand over the antique drafting table in the study, curious about the sketches and blueprints, the trinkets Giulia had deemed important enough to collect, mesmerised by some of the artwork she had collected.

It was interesting to see the photographs. In her office, there was a framed one of her mother…with an infant. Elijah picked the frame up, frowning, certain he remembered Giulia telling him that her mother had died in childbirth… He took his time to absorb the details of each and every photograph, a catalogue of Giulia's fondest memories, snapshots of the life he had been removed from. In the photographs, he saw her grow up.

She had worn a slinky, alluring pale rose-pink dress to her wedding, with a simple posy of pure white tulips, her mother's pearl ring, very little makeup, her hair natural, shining; she looked…timeless. She looked timeless, and young, and delighted in love. Her husband was nondescript and unconventionally attractive, not handsome: He looked at her the way Elijah imagined he used to.

As if she was the only thing in the entire universe to matter.

And yet he had chosen to remove himself from Giulia's life.

Elijah glanced up, somehow feeling ashamed that he had been caught looking at the photographs, when he heard a car approaching: He greeted Caroline at the front-door, Tisiphone under one arm, taking hold of Zeus's collar. Caroline grabbed hold of Gallant before he could make a bid for freedom. The dogs' barks didn't wake Zita, who snuffled upstairs, used to them.

"Hello, Caroline," he said, smiling warmly.

"I got a tonne of the expensive Amarena cherries like you asked, I hope they'll be enough," Caroline said, in greeting: Elijah smiled, and penned the dogs behind the stairgate in the mudroom so he could help Caroline empty out the contents of her car. "How's the gelato?"

"It set; apparently Jeremy was helping Ashlyn 'quality-control' it as they loaded it into an icebox," Elijah said. "They'll bring it all over."

"So, Tyler called me, after Giulia called him; he's promised to hold her off for a coffee or something before they head back to Mystic Falls, but we don't have a lot of time," Caroline sighed.

"Where are the rest of the recruits?" Elijah asked, taking a tote-bag full of blue-and-white jars filled with preserved cherries from Caroline.

"On their way," Caroline said: She had stopped by the witch-house earlier in the week, inviting Elijah and the others to attend a celebratory dinner for Giulia.

A week ago, June 21st, was Giulia's birthday.

An orphan, raised under the belief her mother had died giving birth to her, Giulia's birthdays had historically been non-events: Caroline had been making the effort since Giulia's eighteenth - her first birthday after the sacrifice ritual - to celebrate Giulia's birth. Her life.

Because Giulia never would: She looked after everyone else. She made everyone else feel extraordinary, often to her own detriment. She had forgotten how to let others take care of her, show her how much they appreciated her, loved her, respected her.

Caroline had organised everything, to tie in with Tyler Lockwood's visit to town: She should have been at the house in time for Giulia and Zita's return, covering for Giulia's Enzo, who was preparing the food at the Boarding House. A frantic text about contractors and asbestos in the WhatsApp group saw Elijah gather up a handful of borrowed things and head over to Giulia's house.

The recruits did arrive, and it was extraordinary what a handful of people could achieve under time-constraints, especially with General Forbes commanding the army. In very little time at all, the deck became a destination for al fresco dining, white lights strung up, flaming torches flickering in the breeze, a long table erected and beautifully decorated with clean white linen, tea-light candles and Giulia's favourite green-and-white flowers. White wine and Giulia's favourite blushing rosé was stashed in the refrigerator, buckets were on standby to fill with ice and prosecco, Peroni beers in a huge bucket with ice, and the freezer was stocked with bottles of Enzo's homemade limoncello, shot-glasses and small sundae bowls for Elijah's dessert, handmade spagnola gelato with preserved sour cherries.

"I look forward to meeting this Enzo," Elijah told Caroline, who raised her eyebrows, staring at him. He smiled. "It's not meant to be even vaguely threatening, Caroline."

"Yeah, well…the last time we met, there was a lot of murder going on."

"There did seem to be a spate of it," he agreed. "I understand from Kol that Enzo is not Giulia's husband, that Enzo is…the brother Giulia has chosen."

"Yeah, they - kinda started off as like nemeses and murder-buddies. Then they were drinking-buddies and…well, they were together for a few short, scary months," Caroline said, folding a napkin sharply. Elijah raised an eyebrow.

"Scary, how?"

"When Enzo was at his worst, I worried that he brought out the worst in Giulia…kinda like I worried Kol did the same thing," Caroline sighed.

"Giulia is far too strong to lose herself in the likes of Kol," Elijah said quietly. He knew that with certainty.

"And Enzo's…definitely not the monster I thought he was," Caroline said softly.

"That's the loveliest thing I've ever heard you say about me, Caroline," said a rich, English voice, full of irony and charm. Dark eyes, a jawline, self-assured smile… Enzo.

Elijah looked him up and down… Of above-average height, dark, and emotionally warped?

Giulia had a type.

"You didn't hear that," Caroline said sharply, delicately blushing.

"Oh, I'm going to be hearing it on a loop for the rest of my life," Enzo told her, grinning. He turned his grin on Elijah, offering his hand. He had a firm handshake, and met Elijah's eye unflinchingly. "Lorenzo. So…it was all for you, was it?"

"All…what?"

Enzo just grinned. "I'm sure you'll find out soon enough… Car, I'll need someone with me."

"What do you need?" Elijah asked, still frowning at Enzo's comment.

"Are you any good in the kitchen?" Enzo asked. Elijah shrugged, nodding, and joined Giulia's brother-by-choice in her beautiful kitchen. It was very clear that Enzo was at home there; just as Elijah had once been. Things had been moved around; but they found a rhythm and got to work.

As soon as Enzo started cooking, a little pair of pale-green eyes appeared at the top of the stairs, surrounded by a mass of perfect curls slightly mussed from sleep: Little Zita had slept through the noise of them setting up the deck, the arrival of the first of the guests, but the scent of food cooking… She appeared at the counter beside Elijah, where he was rolling small paprika meatballs between his palms; Enzo bent down to give her a loud kiss.

"I've heard you weren't very well, poppet," he said concernedly, still at her eye-level, gazing intently into her face, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Are you feeling better?" She nodded shyly, gazing at Elijah.

"Are you making pici verde?" she asked, her face lighting up as she watched Elijah's hands.

"Am I making pici verde?" Elijah asked Enzo, who nodded.

"You are. Egli è," Enzo added in Italian to Zita, gently guiding her out of the way so Elijah could carry the trays of meatballs to the oven. "Va bene?" Zita nodded eagerly, her eyes glowing. He told Elijah, "It's her favourite. Why don't you go and find Aunt Caroline; she can help you into your party-dress." Zita darted off, cooing for Caroline.

"She knows Italian?" Elijah murmured, and Enzo nodded.

"Language is a skill, one that opens many doors," Enzo said, wiping down the counter. Elijah blinked, and the entire kitchen seemed to gleam, clean, orderly, just as Giulia had left it. Enzo was so completely comfortable in the kitchen, clean and methodical, unhurried but swift, smiling softly to himself as he cooked, preparing huge dishes of freshly-made pasta, all Giulia's favourite dishes. Protected from flies and bugs by certain herbs brought by Professor Bennett, the long table was soon groaning with huge steaming dishes of Giulia's favourites - crab linguine; pici verde with roasted cherry-tomatoes and little paprika meatballs; butternut-squash and pea risotto; pici with rich duck ragu; cold tortellini antipasto salad; roasted tomato arancini with homemade pesto and aioli; culurgionis in a delicate tomato sauce; and pyramid-shaped sacchetti filled with creamy ricotta; fiocchetti with pears, asparagus and cream; and Giulia's absolute favourite since childhood, shrimp manicotti.

"Five minutes!" Caroline called, as she followed Zita painstakingly taking every stair one at a time, wearing a chic little black shift-dress, her curls shining, gathered from her face with a black hairband. Giulia's little daughter looked exquisite, and Elijah couldn't help but be reminded of the Sixties dance Giulia had attended, wearing a deliciously short black dress and low heels.

Everyone gathered on the deck - the Saltzman family, Jenna, Alaric and their two children; Professor Bennett, her pregnant granddaughter; Ashlyn and Jeremy; all but Isak, from Elijah's family; Rose and a tired-looking Matthew Donovan; Carol Lockwood and her brother-in-law Mason, his bright-eyed son and Hayley, his beautiful wife whose heart skipped a beat in fear at the sight of Elijah; Elizabeth Forbes, out of her Sheriff's uniform and looking beautiful, and Caroline. Music played softly, piped outside from the stereo-system inside; Caroline ticked off the last items on her checklist, got her camera ready, ordered everyone to get a drink in their hands. As they heard the crunch of tyres, Kol opened a bottle of chilled Dom, not wasting a drop as he poured the first glass for Giulia.

She appeared, in her pretty dress and subtle red lipstick, sliding the door open, Tyler lurking behind her, handsome and smiling warmly; he took envelopes and a black book off her, setting them down inside, and her dogs barked in greeting as they raised their glasses and chorused, "Happy Birthday!"

Giulia burst into tears, her smile radiant.

The meal was delicious: Enzo had a gift. Giulia sat at the head of the table, occasionally with Zita in her lap, laughing with everyone, sharing the family-style platters of pasta, arancini and risotto. Wine flowed freely, the cicadas chirping a chorus to them as the early-evening cooled, thanks to the lake, and a glorious sunset stained the sky.

Elijah's simple dessert of yoghurt gelato and syrupy preserved cherries was a refreshing success, served with a little shot of limoncello; coffees were served only after the desserts were finished; and in true Italian style, an impressive array of digestivo were served with a selection of handmade sweet little nibbles, to keep everyone at the table, savouring their drinks, their company, unhurried, relaxed.

"Speech!" someone called, and Giulia was coaxed to stand, bright-eyed and resplendent in the candlelight; she raised the little glass of her favourite Barolo Chinato, her smile tremulous, gazing around at them all. Children had climbed into their parents' laps, dozing after a heavy, lazy meal; Zita was fast-asleep in Enzo's arms, sucking her fingers; Jeremy had his arm around Ashlyn; Kol and Gyda were giggling, tipsy; and Liz had taken the camera away from Caroline, forcing her to live in the moment.

Giulia looked emotional as she gazed at every single one of them. "My heart and soul are at this table… Thank you."


A.N.: Actions speak louder than words, after all. And a little setup for the future, with Marcel. Mmm…Marcel