A.N.: In case you were interested, the inspiration I take for Rebekah's style aesthetic in my version of this story is a combination of Blake Lively's effortless bombshell, Amber Heard (herself, and her character Ulla in The Danish Girl), Saoirse Ronan's red-carpet glam and Lucy Boynton's retro quirky sweet style. Glamorous, but also timeless. I like to think Rebekah is far more elegant and cultured than we ever get to see on the show because the other characters always go on about her being petty and jealous, etc. instead of actually getting to know the girl behind the fangs.


Resurgam

19

Mundane


She was taking the time, because it was important, to focus on the mundane. Her chores; a lazy night after a simple supper of fresh pasta, folding laundry, organising meals for the next week, listening to music as she sketched, Marcel's job-specs spread out on the coffee-table, as Zita worked on her reading with Bananagrams, and Spencer was researching his go-kart project.

Giulia heard the spin of cogs and wheels and a loud gasp as a cluster of gears dropped onto the polished floor: She heard the crisp crackling of varnish splitting off the wood like thousands of sparklers lighting, tiny staccato echoes as the sound of impact ricocheted off pockets where sap once flowed, the thunderous boom of the metal cogs and gears vibrating against the floor like a lightning-storm.

Music in the mundane.

The silver lining of the storm-cloud.

Spencer's little face turned to Giulia, stricken with guilt, horrified.

She peered over, and saw a curving scratch gouged into the varnish of the wooden floorboard.

Giulia scented Spencer's immediate terror; and she hated it. It was a reminder of how much Spencer stepped on eggshells around his mother, who had a violent temper, and forgot that not everyone in her house had supernatural strength and healing to withstand her anger.

"Would you look at that?" she clicked her tongue.

"I'm sorry!" he whispered, shivering with fear.

"It's okay: We'll just move," Giulia shrugged, tracing her finger over the scratch, which felt like the Grand Canyon under her fingertip, the minute scratches of splinters, and the scent of freshly-cut wood.

She wasn't going to get mad at Spencer for living in her home: If she got precious about every nick and scratch and spill, having a child, a cat and three dogs would have driven her to homicide long ago. It was their home; it was meant to be lived in. It was meant to be the one place they were all entitled to feel safe. And so she turned scratches and spills into commemorations of their lives together in this house.

It took twenty minutes to convince Spencer that she wasn't mad. In the end, she gave him a tour of the house and pointed out the 'accidents' she had creatively commemorated, showing the milestones in her life with Zita and Enzo, to settle his anxiety about her anger, or him being punished for a little scratch in the woodwork.

But he was on edge, even after she had agreed that he could ground himself from taking the dogs for a walk, if he insisted on being punished: He loved the dogs. He sat reading one of Giulia's old Terry Pratchett novels, Mort, while Giulia and Zita took the dogs for a walk in the cooler evening air, and was still reading when they returned, immersed. Spencer wasn't the strongest reader, but he kept working at it; not like mechanics, which they had found he had a natural affinity for.

Perhaps watching Iron Man so often had a little to do with his fascination with mechanics and engineering, but they had put a lot of work into the go-kart since his first visit to the junkyard. But then…he always got excited about their projects: Since he was a very little boy, Giulia had spent time with Spencer, whether it was doing arts and crafts or science projects or even gardening and fishing. She gifted him her time: Because she would have those memories, long after Spencer was grown and had children of his own.

Gallant barked and pelted for Spencer, launching himself into the little boy's lap as soon as she opened the front-door; Spencer jumped, but smiled, and stroked Gallant's ears, reluctantly closing the book.

"You can keep reading if you'd like," Giulia told him. "Zita's gonna have a bath and get ready for bed." Spencer was over so often that they had a routine; Zita didn't fuss when she had to go to bed earlier than Spencer, she just kissed him, and the dogs, and climbed the stairs, puffing when she reached the top, shiny-faced after playing and skipping about with Tisiphone during their walk. Giulia washed and combed Zita's hair, carefully drying her curls, before settling her into bed in clean pyjamas and fresh sheets; she put on a load of laundry, and smiled, watching Spencer draw as he listened to The Who quietly in the living-room. She carried the warm laundry she had just tugged off the washing-line outside over to the sofas, looking over Spencer's shoulder to see what he was drawing, and smiled, folding tiny panties and little polo-shirts and dresses Zita lived in, as the landline rang.

She reached for the phone, recognised the number, and clamped the phone under her ear as she folded. "To what do I owe this call?"

"Was it my fault?"

"That's an open-ended question, Stefan; please elaborate."

"Elena's accident. Was it because of me?"

She sighed heavily. "Elena's accident was because of Elena. You didn't compel her to get into the car and drive it into that family's Chevy…did you?"

"No, I didn't -"

"So then, why even ask if it was your fault?" Giulia asked, pairing tiny socks, and smiling as she neatened Zita's tiny little workout gear.

"I - I feel bad, okay."

"Because you told her to back off? Stefan, she needed to hear that, even if you weren't the most polite about saying it," Giulia said.

"That's…not really why I feel bad."

"Okay…"

"Look, I - I went to the café the other day and Jeremy was pretty short with me; he said any lawsuit against Elena would bury Matt, who can't afford to finance a new car, let alone find the money if Elena's sued by the family she hit," Stefan sighed heavily, sounding so much like the old, conscientious, soul-suckingly-sober Stefan that Giulia stopped digging around for a matching sock and readjusted the phone.

"So…?"

"So…should I apologise or something…to Matt? He called me the night it happened, he yelled at me…"

"He did?"

"Yeah. Kind of deflated after I mentioned what I'd told Elena…or, most of it. The bits he'd be interested to hear," Stefan said, and Giulia rolled her eyes.

"Ah, the abridged version of the truth," she said. "You should know better than to think that's not gonna bite you on the ass later."

"Yeah, well, whatever. But I am conscious of the fact that Elena hurt those people because of something I said… I've got enough blood on my hands, Giulia; I can't be responsible for ruining Matt's life because of a lawsuit…"

Giulia sighed heavily, eyeing Spencer; she rumpled his hair and wandered into the kitchen on the pretence of making the two of them a healthy snack.

"Well, then…what do you want to do?" Giulia asked.

"Well, obviously I can't fix the charges brought against Elena," Stefan said. "But do you think Matt would mind if I helped out?"

"I think Matt would mind that it's you helping out," Giulia said honestly. "But as bad as a lawsuit would be, I think the thing to remember is that Elena hit a family; I'd be more concerned for what they need, rather than what Elena…will get away with if you interfere."

"So…help the family, rather than help Elena?"

"I think if we can help that family before they bring a lawsuit against Elena...it's just better for everyone involved," Giulia said. "Maybe find out what the family needs, and we can figure it out without Matt having to know about it until later on down the line when things have calmed down."

"Could you afford it?"

"Me?" Giulia asked lightly, and she heard Stefan sigh: She knew he had his own private accounts. And she'd made him a lot of money when he invested his cash into her projects.

He chuckled softly. "Okay, fine; I'll call my accountant. Oh - and I still owe you the twenty-thou for your Words-With-Friends win."

"Tell you what, consider that debt settlement under advisement," Giulia said, getting an idea.

"Let me know what you want to do," Stefan said. They ended the call, Giulia made a snack for herself and Spencer, and dialled the phone again. She frowned, when Caroline's phone went straight to voicemail.

She had been trying to get hold of Caroline for days. She had gone on a week-long vacation with her dad, father-daughter bonding time; Giulia was covering all aspects of the business that were usually in Caroline's remit, including a couple of detestable house-viewings. Giulia was not a born realtor. Nobody did bubbly and upbeat like Caroline. But it was important; and Bill didn't get much vacation time. Since his breakup with Stephen, Bill had been indulging in more and more long-weekend vacations and visits with Caroline. He had arrived in town for the Fourth of July party, and they had left the following day for a week-long vacation in Tybee Island, Georgia - Caroline had watched The Last Song too many times not to be thrilled to visit the filming-location and breathe the same air Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth had.

But it wasn't like Caroline to let her phone die.

And she had never missed the opportunity to be the first to Love and comment on pictures Giulia had uploaded of Zita to her App. Fourth of July pictures, some really pretty ones of Caroline and Zita…nothing. Caroline loved her father-daughter time with Bill but she also knew how precious her bond with Zita was. Even when Caroline was on vacation, she took the time every morning to check her messages and her social-media.

It was the third time Giulia had called, in as many days, and she hadn't heard anything back - and considering the first phone-call was about Elena's accident, well… Giulia had been expecting a frantic phone-call; she had expected to have to talk Caroline out of turning back and donning a nurse's uniform to look after Elena. They would be drowning in soups and casseroles.

Giulia didn't want to go into full-blown panic-mode, but if she didn't hear back from Caroline soon, she'd be contacting the Sheriff's Department - meaning Caroline's mother.

There was no detective in the world who had anything over a worried mom: And Liz was the best of both.

She left a message on Caroline's voicemail, just in case: "Hi Car, I just thought we could talk about Matt…I know we talked about bringing him in, but I think maybe it should be sooner rather than later - if he wants it. Let me know what you think, text me or give me a call. I hope you and your dad are enjoying the beach." She hung up, frowning, and scattered pinches of salt and sugar over the fresh popcorn, carrying it over to Spencer with a plate of fresh fruit.

"How about we play a couple games of cards before bedtime?" Giulia asked, and Spencer beamed, nodding eagerly. He tucked his things away in a neat pile - without ever asking him to, Spencer always tidied up after himself. She almost had to force him to sit at the table when she and Enzo cleared away the dishes before dessert; if there was a spill, he raced for the dustpan or a paper-towel. His bedroom upstairs was always neat, he always made his bed.

When things were wrong at home, sometimes children responded by being the perfect child: Spencer was incredibly polite, and had learned to pick up the chores when Hayley didn't do them…

Spencer was Grayson's future, if Elena continued on the path she was on: Becoming an adult while he was still a child.

Giulia remembered helping her father keep the house clean and tidy, cooking together - but they had done it together: And as bright as she had always been, her father had been wise. He had never pushed for her genius to be acknowledged; he hadn't wanted her to become a child prodigy. He had wanted her to grow up with fierce friendships and a sense of accountability, of kindness and self-respect, promoting curiosity and self-education but also teamwork and a sense of community and her responsibility to the people she loved.

She had been raised by a single father, but her young life had never been fraught; she had never been afraid of her father, or taken on his responsibilities as a parent and carer. She had been incredibly lucky in her dad; and she hoped she was raising her daughter the same. The situation was a little different, with Enzo as Zita's 'uncle'. But with Zita's gift with music, she had come to realise the worries her father had battled while raising his own gifted child.

Growing up, Giulia had always felt cherished, an equal to her father: He had raised her the only way he knew how, with gentleness, encouragement and mutual respect. And a lot of love. She knew how hard it was when one parent was missing: The thing was, Elena and Hayley were both still physically around. It was emotionally they were checked out. And that wasn't fair; that wasn't fair on Spencer. It wasn't fair that he had learned how to take care of the house and his dad, who was his idol, because he knew his mother had run off to the beach with her boyfriend: It wasn't fair that Spencer was afraid of his own mother. It wasn't fair that he loved staying at Giulia's house: It wasn't fair that he looked forward to the days he spent the night, and it wasn't fair when he was relieved that Hayley still hadn't come home, so he could spend time with his dad without being frightened of Hayley starting an argument that saw Spencer hiding in the closet, cowering and crying, covering his ears as Hayley smashed plates and Mason tried his hardest to keep his temper in check.

"What do you draw in your sketchbook?" Spencer asked, eyeing the coffee-table, which was still spread with Marcel's job-specs and photographs.

"Ideas…buildings - concepts," Giulia said softly, and she set down her cards to reach for a folder, showing Spencer. "See, this one…it's a support centre - for children who are in the foster-system. People who volunteer there give support to kids in bad situations."

"It doesn't look very nice," Spencer said apologetically. It was a ramshackle shotgun house in Tulane-Gravier, in a dusty lot with empty plots beside it where Katrina had swept away the homes either side of it.

"No, well…what money they manage to raise goes into the kids. Some of them have very little," Giulia told him. "A friend of mine has asked me to design something more…uplifting."

"It should be colourful," Spencer told her, peering at the photographs of the building, and Giulia's brainstorming sketches. "They could have a yard with flowers - sunflowers! And vegetables so they learn about nature. And a basketball hoop."

"You're still angling for that hoop, huh?" Giulia smiled; he had been begging Mason for a basketball hoop for months. Spencer grinned. "Well, I will take your suggestions under advisement. I don't know, though, Louisiana's pretty hot during the summer, and it's so humid you really don't want to be outside."

"You could put a cover over the basketball-court," Spencer suggested.

"Oh, I get it, like the one you have at school?" Giulia said, and Spencer nodded.

"Do they have books?"

"A library? I'm not sure. My friend sent me some information on the centre and what they get up to there, I know they teach kids life-skills so when they leave the foster-system, they at least have some knowledge of how to take care of themselves," Giulia said, with a soft sigh.

Spencer frowned.

"What's the foster-system?"

"Uh, well…if a child has no parents, or if they were abandoned as babies because the mother was frightened or for whatever reason, sometimes if they lose parents in an accident or they go to jail, or if a court of law decrees a parent is unfit, they take the child away for their own protection… The system homes children who have no-one else," Giulia explained gently, aware that if not for Mason, Spencer could easily fall into a couple of those categories. "Some children get adopted into permanent homes, but not all foster-children are that lucky, and some have a very bad time of it. They don't find stable homes, they don't have role-models, they don't have support - they don't have a fair start in life. So a lot of them struggle… Places like this centre are sometimes the only places children in the foster-care can find some support, some…love. Sometimes it's the only place they know they'll be safe."

She watched Spencer, as they returned to their cards; he was quiet, thoughtful. She knew he had listened, really listened to her explanation of the foster-system. It was important to be able to open up a dialogue with Spencer, especially about things in his life that he had been coached by his mother to lie about: It was important he knew there was a world outside of his small, struggling family. And that he was not alone in that world.

They finished up their card-game as Enzo got home from his shift at the Boarding House: He smiled warmly, kissed Giulia in greeting, rumpled Spencer's hair and gave him a brief hug before Spencer climbed the stairs. They could hear him getting ready for bed, as Enzo poured them a half-glass of wine each.

"I thought you'd be up to your eyeballs in Stranger Things," Enzo smiled.

"I thought I'd wait for you," Giulia said. Caroline's vacation had coincided perfectly with the release of Stranger Things 3: Giulia would be binging on teenage wastelands while Caroline scarfed down as much seafood as she could stand. She wasn't a fan: But Enzo, who had endured his own internment in a diabolical highly-funded institution as a test-subject, had seen himself reflected in Eleven and needed to know Jane Hopper had successfully and happily integrated into a world that embraced and adored her.

With the kids in bed, enjoying a glass of wine, they settled in, the lights turned off, the dogs cuddled up, watching the next episode.

Checking her phone one last time before she traipsed upstairs for bed, she asked Enzo for a favour: "You know that picture you took of Caroline?"

"Which one?"

"That one."

"Oh, the one she's promised to keep me a decade without viscera if I ever post it to social-media?"

"That one."

"What about it?"

"I'd like you to post it to social-media."

"What did I do to deserve you signing my death-warrant? Did I miss an anniversary?"

"It's a test."

"I think Caroline could actually do it - keep me a decade without viscera," Enzo said thoughtfully, sipping his wine; he shrugged, and Giulia smiled, showing him the illuminated screen of her phone, open on her App and the pictures she had uploaded of Fourth of July.

"That's not what I mean. Notice anything?"

"Zita's gorgeous little dimples."

"There's no comment from Caroline. Not a single one, on any of the photographs…"

"She's with her father, she won't be checking social-media," Enzo said lightly. "The only little girl who loves her daddy more is Zita." He beamed, his eyes twinkling warmly: He was the only father in Zita's life, and he cherished his bond with her. Their beginning had been intense, provocative and violent; they had slipped seamlessly into a fierce intimacy that strengthened and evolved into something much rarer, much more precious: they had become family. She didn't know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere, he had become her brother. They raised Zita together: He was Uncle Enzo but he was the only father she knew.

"I know," Giulia said, but she glanced at Enzo. "I just…get this feeling in the pit of my stomach… I was distracted at the Fourth of July party, I didn't…didn't see Caroline before she left with Bill. I've left messages and she's always first to Love pictures I throw up of Zita, especially when it's pictures of the two of them."

Enzo sighed, nodding thoughtfully. He glanced at her. "If you're truly worried, there's only one person to ask."

"I thought I'd wait until I had something a little more than a gut instinct."

"Isn't detective work following gut instinct?" Enzo asked. "I'm sure Liz would much rather you told her your concerns than sit on them, especially as they involve her daughter."

"Well…that's why I'd like you to post that picture. If she doesn't call you within a half-hour screeching at you to delete the photo, I'll call Liz," Giulia said; she knew Caroline too well. And she would be mortified by the one poorly-timed photograph Enzo had managed to capture of her.

By next morning, Caroline still hadn't made contact.

Giulia was officially unsettled.

And when her gut feeling was that Caroline was in danger...


A.N.: …shit gets real, real fast…