Staring death in the eye is something all humans fear. Since being children, that precise fear is deeply ingrained within. Some consider themselves immune, but the truth is that when it does happen, when the end does come knocking on your door, it is natural to be scared.
Caroline was starting to understand that.
Priding herself on not fearing anything, the disturbing realization that everything could be gone in the blink of an eye made her come to grips with her own mortality. And with her own fear.
A total stranger was two steps away from her, wielding a knife and appearing more than ready to use it. Nothing but a wall and a deserted street lay before her. Fight or fly- those were her options. Both made impossible by current circumstances. Where would she run in a city where she knew nobody and the streets were a maze? And how could she face an armed man twice her size?
Losing was equally imminent in both situations.
So she chose the one that fit her character best: fight. At least she'd go down with dignity and courage. That being decided, the woman finally looked in her assailant's eyes. What she could glimpse made her shudder.
Darkness enveloped irises the color of the night, pure rage embedded deep within the realms of his heart. That was all she could see. Enough to know that making it through the night was highly unlikely.
The man took another step in her direction. Her breath caught in her throat, but showing even an ounce of surrender equaled the last curtain call for her. Narrowing her eyes, straightening her spine, the blonde defiantly addressed him: "Who are you?"
"None of your business," he chuckled. "Besides, I'm the one who will be asking the questions here."
An alarm bell rang in her head at the tone with which he spoke. It was like he was a lion toying with his prey, but she could not back down. Keep him talking long enough, someone might pass by. Someone could still save her, she refused to think otherwise. She had not come this far for it to be over like this. It was unacceptable.
"Well, Mr. I'm-none-of-your-business, I demand to know what you want from me!"
Honestly, she was quite proud for keeping her voice infused with confidence, shielding the nerves. Appearing put-together and resilient might help rattle her attacker. Not like she would ever cower, resembling a scared mouse, anyhow.
A full-blown sadistic laugh followed her question. "You're brave, I'll give you that," he pondered his next sentence. "I want to see you suffer, cry and beg like no one has before. I want to punish him."
Who was he talking about? Oh God, please don't let this be a psychopathic serial killer escaped from prison or some paranoid schizophrenic vanished from an asylum, she prayed. In those scenarios, her survival odds plummeted to a resounding zero. "Look," she began steadily, trying to talk some sense into him. "I don't live in New Orleans, I barely know two people here and certainly none of them deserve your punishment. I'm pretty sure you have the wrong girl, so I'll be on my way now," Caroline attempted to move past him.
It was the wrong move because he grabbed her hand, throwing her into the wall. Her head hit it full-force, stars swimming in her vision. Inhaling deeply, she managed to maintain consciousness just barely. A shaking hand went to her neck and found it bleeding slightly, that forceful was the impact.
"You're not going anywhere. The fun has just begun." Ominous words that served to wake her up immediately. Yanking her by the hair, he lifted her to a standing position. In spite of the dizziness, Caroline persisted in looking him in the eye, not budging an inch.
"He really knows how to choose them, doesn't he?"
Without warning, lips crashed down on her. Caroline attempted to turn her head from the disgusting assault, but it was to no avail. Violent kisses continued to be bestowed upon her. Bile rose to her throat and she swallowed it down when he finally pulled back.
Taking advantage of the brief second in which her attacker was regaining his breath, clearly doubting she had enough spirit left in her, Caroline punched him hard and, utilizing surprise to her advantage broke free from underneath him and darted into a run, yelling for help.
Brisk steps resounded from behind, but she didn't risk a glance. She'd seen too many movies not to know how to avoid tripping. The light at the end of the tunnel was visible –she was nearly back on one of the main streets.
Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted from her back. Ignoring it, she tried to maintain her pace. Another jab, more intense, followed shortly. It hurt. A lot. Instinctively, she looked at her back and found two jagged slashes that had started to bleed. Crimson had spread all over her white blouse, contrasting starkly with the previously pure color.
In that precise moment an empty bottle appeared in her path. She didn't see it and collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. That was when she knew her luck had run out. In no time, a shadow towered over her.
"You really thought you could run from me?"
Anger and frustration had made its way to her eyes, dragging warmth to them. Rapidly she attempted to blink it back, not show vulnerability. But Lord, was it hard! Besides the knowledge that her last chance to escape had slipped through her fingers, there was the intense burning in her back, her shirt was wet and clinging to her skin, a repugnant metallic stench invading her nostrils.
Death was in the air. It could be felt circling around her.
Being a surgeon, she knew the wounds weren't life threatening on their own, just shallow cuts. But blood loss was, in time, and she was not naïve enough to think he was done with her. This was merely the warm-up. The foreplay.
Apparently this man did not accept silence well or simply liked the sound of his voice too much, because he resumed babbling, striving to intimidate her into submission.
"You're not going to give in, are you? I like that. You know what? I'll have my fun with you first. After all, it's been too long."
A whimper could not be held in at the unspoken threat. She did not dare question what it had been too long from because the most probable answer was terrifying. What was even more terrifying was the cold tip of the blade resting on her cheek. "So pretty," he mumbled. "Just like she was before they were done with her." Angrily, he cut her across the face, near her hairline. Going for her face was deliberate. He was trying to take away fore-mentioned beauty. Coppery liquid started to roll down her face, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.
Not one to give in though, Caroline tried to push him off again, uselessly this time. A hand thrust the blade against her throat while the other roamed up and down her body until it stopped on her back. Brutal fingers dug into the gashes, forcing them to open wider. As she flinched, a shudder went through him.
It was clear then. He was enjoying himself tremendously. Frightening and abusing her turned him on.
Still, the woman kept fighting. Against the hurt. Against the man on top of her. Against herself and her betraying, flaying will.
An onslaught of wet, repulsive kisses stung her neck. God, not that. She'd rather he killed her than have his way with her. During her years of working in the E.R. many rape victims had come. That dead and desponded look coupled with never being quite the same again. The sadness that those around them experienced when they saw that going back was impossible. She didn't want that. Not for her, or her beloved ones.
By now, Caroline was openly crying, unable to hold it in anymore. Her assailant rejoiced it and went as far as licking the translucent beads off her face.
"That's right, cry for me."
With her last energy, she tried to wiggle free, ignoring the caustic feeling as her cuts opened even more. She didn't care; she just wanted it to be over. Or get his hands off her, at least.
"Let go of me!" The desired authoritative note fell short, making it seem less of an order and more of a plea. "Take your filthy hands off me, right now!"
Still, it impressed the man who granted her a much needed break from groping her and instead focused his gleaming eyes on her. "You still haven't given up?" incredulity laced his voice. "You're much braver than her. So bold and aggressive in spite of all this. Not an easy one to break."
Was that admiration embedded into his words?
Ignoring his compliment or whatever that was meant to be, she concentrated on the other part of his sentences. A 'her' had been mentioned. It washed over her at the speed of light. He'd done this before. He'd killed before.
"You're insane," she spat out with as much hate as she could muster.
"Perhaps, but he made me like this. He and his family. Because of them, she was taken away from me. I warned him that I would do it again, should he get near anybody. And then you showed up. I saw the way he looked at you, how he carried himself. One day with you and he was smiling."
He wasn't making any sense. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Gone was the momentarily show of emotion. The enraged look was back. "You don't have to." Cold steel pressed harder and harder against her. It was obvious. This time nothing would save her.
Bracing for the incoming assault, Caroline decided not to close her eyes however hard she wanted to. Yes, he would have to do it while looking at her. Yet that didn't seem to faze him. Tightly squeezing her breast, eliciting a sob from the blonde, he began to rip her shirt off. The material slowly snapped under the added pressure. Cold night air touched her skin, but Caroline was already frozen from deep within, immune to the outside temperature. Numb.
It was over.
She'd lost.
All of a sudden, his weight was lifted off her. The sound of bones grinding together and a loud crack emerged immediately afterwards. For seconds, Caroline was stuck, not really comprehending what was going on.
He was gone.
She was alive.
Alive. She had to repeat the word a few times in her head to make sure that it was correct.
Only after it had sunk it, did she glance at the area from which grunts and punches resonated. Somebody, a man had come to her aid. He was positively pounding on her assailant who, having been caught off guard had been rendered to a pile of mewling meat on the ground. The Good Samaritan was throwing punch after punch and then followed them with heavy, relentless kicks.
For a second, she had to focus her blurred vision to distinguish her savior's features. Moonlight came to her aid, casting a soft glow on the powerful figure. Fair blonde hair. Chiseled jaw. Full lips encircled by light stubble. And the decisive factor: threatening clouds of grey and blue, dilated in fury, a tempest burning deep within.
Klaus Mikaelson.
Only this was a version of him she hadn't seen, although she'd subconsciously known it was bubbling under the surface, waiting for the moment to come out and collect its pound of flesh.
Blood was flowing from the man's mouth, but Klaus did not let up. "You will pay, you bastard," he growled at the motionless man. "Like I promised you would."
Her attacker coughed under the effort of looking for Caroline. "You know, she didn't beg, didn't even try to. A real fighter, this one compared to the other. Now, that one was pleading for mercy. As blood seeped out of every pore of her body, she kept imploring, like an innocent doe that refuses to acknowledge it's been swallowed by a bigger, better animal."
He was provoking Klaus. Urging him on by bringing an unknown past into discussion. He liked it. One other look and it was clear, the man welcomed death. It was a reprieve from the hell he must be living on Earth, the one that made him into the monster that nearly killed Caroline.
It was working. Klaus's blows had intensified and the man was teetering on the edge between consciousness and blissful oblivion. He had crawled into a fetal position as constant blows shook him. Should this rate continue, Klaus would kill him with his bare hands.
Still clutching at the remains of her shirt, Caroline struggled to lift herself upright. Pointlessly because her knees felt like jelly, the effects of the significant hemorrhage becoming more and more pronounced. She settled on lying on her knees, her back supported by a nearby brick wall.
Wait for the worst to pass, for anger to burn out, she decided.
Within minutes, it was clear that wouldn't happen today. Klaus still hadn't let up. Moreover, the sound of minute facial bones snapping followed every blow. It was gruesome. Such hate and thirst for vengeance had existed only in the realm of fiction for Caroline before. There was deadly intent behind each stroke.
The man on the ground stopped moving altogether, eventually, but the onslaught did not stop.
"Klaus," her voice trembled weakly not able to reach the crazed man. "Klaus!"
This time his hand hesitated, hovering over the disfigured face. Intense, ice-cold eyes darted to her. Blood spatters were all over his face and blouse, making him look manic, like a villain from a horror movie. Caroline was speechless. What could one say to somebody found in such state?
Silence turned out to be costly because the swing eventually met its mark.
He would kill him. All doubt paled from her mind in that instant.
Klaus would become a murderer.
"Klaus, please, stop!" Her plea fell on deaf ears. Klaus Mikaelson was too lost inside his own head to listen to reason. The man that had assaulted her was defenseless right now. Killing him would be considered murder.
Just like he wanted to do to you, her inner self haughtily added, let Klaus finish him off, he deserves it.
A battle waged inside her mind. Try to save the man who'd treated her like a doll he longed to dismember or let Klaus, somebody she had only known for a few days, be consumed by the darkness inside him.
In the end, one of the options won by a very slim margin.
Gathering all of her remaining strength and determination, Caroline pushed herself to her feet. The movement resulted in her cuts rupturing even further. Taking a second, the woman steadied herself, grasping the slab wall. Truthfully, she just wanted to collapse in a heap on the floor, but once her mind was set on accomplishing something, there was no going back.
Step after tedious step, the distance separating her from Klaus was reduced. He didn't seem to even notice.
Towering over the passed-out man, Klaus continued to bash him as hard as possible. For a moment, Caroline had to stop to ascertain if the injured one was still breathing.
He was. Shallowly.
Had Klaus not been so lost inside his bubbling rage, Caroline was sure she wouldn't have ever been able to sneak up on him like this. But he was and Caroline was inches away from him. Aware that her words would not have any effect on him, Caroline grabbed his hand mid-punch.
Surprise was evident in his reaction. Startled, striking blue eyes turned to her. The raw emotion behind them, made Caroline's foggy brain compare them with a blizzard that raged on eternally. The Klaus she knew was not the one before her. That much was obvious.
"Klaus, don't!" She tried once again to bring him back, but judging by the way he wrestled to free his hand, demons were still plaguing him. Planting her feet on the ground, Caroline was proud that she managed to remain upright. Vice-fingers wrapped around her wrist. Tightly, but not tightly enough to actually hurt her.
"Let go of my hand," he growled warningly. It was clear that his limited self-control was thinning.
"No." Caroline shook her head. "I'm not going to let you kill him."
Her audacity was something that under any other circumstances would have amused her terribly. Like she could stop him, should he wish to go on. One shove and she would be on the ground, him ready to resume.
Disbelief replaced some of the anger.
"He tried to kill you," Klaus pointedly gazed at her bleeding temple, probably unaware of her back wounds. "He hurt you. And after all that, you are still asking for mercy for him?"
When he put it like that, Caroline had to admit that it sounded foolishly selfless. Of course, she did not want to become an accomplice to murder, but if one took into account what he'd put her through, Caroline was fairly certain that nobody would blame her. But that was not her main reason. No, that was represented by her unwillingness to stand by and watch Klaus turn into an assassin.
That kind of deed ripped apart a small piece of someone's soul every time. And Klaus already looked like he was walking a tightrope between light and dark. Caroline would be damned if she allowed the latter to take over.
"Yes. I'm asking you to please not kill him."
That request shook Klaus to the core. Taking a second, to gain a bit of composure, Klaus studied her. Caked blood matted her hair, turning it strawberry blonde, her skin was deadly pale, nearly translucent and she was hunched over, clearly in pain. What really sent him spiraling was her torn shirt. It was hanging by a thread, and the thought of why Lucien Castle had attempted to undress Caroline had him seething.
"Why?" was all his mouth could muster.
"Because," she pondered her next words as both men's faiths depended on them. Not that she cared much about her assailant. "I don't want you to become a killer."
Grey eyes widened. "You're begging for the life of the person who would have butchered you without batting an eyelash for me? To save my soul?"
The blonde nodded.
"Caroline, there is no soul left in me to save. It has been gone for months."
Way longer than that if he was honest.
"No, it's not. I don't believe it. I've only known you for a few days, but I've caught glimpses of it. Moments when you let your guard down and allow yourself to smile freely, make fun of my bartending skills. I know it was you who sent away that drunken idiot from the bar, even though I pretended I did not. Someone with no soul would not intervene to help others. Nor would he kill a helpless person."
Tiredness was seeping into her bones. Standing upright and keeping a relatively firm hold on his hand was harder with every second.
"You're delusional," the resolute tone was wavering.
"I guess we'll see," dizziness was stronger now, voice weak, barely above a whisper. Depleted body refused to continue to remain standing. Caroline crumpled on her knees, her hand dropping, freeing Klaus's body. He was free. To do whatever he wished. Still, clouded washed-out green orbs fixed him. Waiting for his next move.
Klaus Mikaelson was left pondering, mouth gaping at the fiery, noble character the blonde had just shown.
Revenge for what had been done to Camille lay before him, ready for the taking. She deserved retribution. He'd sworn on her memory. Normally he wouldn't have hesitated, but an invisible force was holding him back.
The conviction with which Caroline had begged for Lucien's life had marked him deeply. To his surprise, the feeling of Caroline's fingers on his forearm, etched into his skin, was staying his hand. Her pleas had not been in vain. She wanted to save his soul, not let it be tainted by a murder.
If only she knew how many bodies he had on his conscience, he thought bitterly. What was one more red name added to his ledger?
What was even more baffling was his desire to acquiesce to her demands.
"He has to pay," he tried to convince himself that what he planned was warranted. For Camille. If he didn't do it, he would feel like he was stomping on her memory. But then there was Caroline. Effectively accomplishing his plans would be letting her down. Surprisingly, he did not wish to do that. For some unknown reason, he cared about her opinion of him.
"He will," Caroline intervened again. "I'll testify against him. He can't escape prison. Justice will ensure he atones."
"Justice is not always fair," he tried to argue.
"Neither is taking it all into your own hands. Not for you or for him."
Last resolve was crumbling. Klaus could feel it deep within, like an earthquake tearing down part of his purpose in life. One glimpse at the woman on the ground, fighting to keep roused, lids heavier and heavier and he knew:
He'd already made a choice. An unexpected one.
Swaying, Caroline was inches away from hitting the concrete. Bracing herself for the pain to come, she was surprised when all that came were two strong hands wrapped around her. Forcing her eyes to slits, she understood that Klaus was holding her in his arms.
Immediately, she peered at her assailant and found him wheezing for air. Still breathing.
"I knew it," she murmured frailly, taking in his scent: a leathery musky delicate fragrance that had mixed with the iron aroma of blood. Dark and alluring at the same time.
Until he could question what she meant, Caroline went limp, effectively passing out in his arms. Panicking, Klaus listened for the sound of her breathing and let out a sigh of relief at the steady rhythm he found. Seeing her bleeding in his arms sent him back to that fateful night 9 months ago. That day he'd been too late.
Thankfully, today he'd chosen to follow Caroline, to ensure she got to her hotel safely. The figure he'd spotted in the window had been behind his decision. History tended to repeat itself. Easily chalked up to paranoid behavior, he'd still chosen to indulge his instinct.
Thankfully.
Otherwise, Caroline would have had the same fate as Camille. Worse, if one judged the way Lucien had her pinned, nearly undressed. It made his blood boil.
Still, Caroline had found it in her to grant clemency to Lucien Castle. For him. To preserve whatever goodness remained in his heart.
Too bad there was none left.
He cast one last look at the broken man before him. Looking at the past, Klaus could see he had good reasons to wish to hurt him. But he'd apologized and explained to Lucien what had really happened. They were friends. Klaus thought he'd understand, but no, he'd completely lost it and vowed to get revenge.
Just as Klaus had after Camille. Camille- the woman who could have been so much more in his life, but hadn't because she'd been taken too soon, the woman he'd sworn to avenge.
I'm sorry, Camille, he looked at the sky, I couldn't let her down too.
He'd nearly turned into Lucien Castle and his father and all of those things he despised about his family. A full-fledged monster is what he'd almost become. But he hadn't.
Because of Caroline.
She appeared to bring out a better side of him. One that he thought was long gone; vanished without a trace after he had died in his arms.
Caroline had awakened it. With her benevolence and faith in him. Only one other person had believed in him and he'd paid the costly price. After knowing him for two days, the blonde saw something in him that not even part of his family had.
His eyes softened as he glanced at her. Checking for further injury, Klaus was stupefied to see two deep slashes across her back. They explained her current state and almost sent him spiraling again. But before that could occur, he called 911 and told the operator what had transpired.
Consequences would follow his choice, he was sure. People would find out his current whereabouts. People who longed to see him dead. They would come. He would come.
All that Klaus hoped was the Caroline's goodness would not backfire against her.
If there was one thing he'd learned over the years was that being linked to him, resulted in death or grave injury every single time.
No, he would prevent that from happening. Somehow, he would find a way to protect her from the cruel creatures waiting for a moment of weakness on his part to pounce on it.
This time he would be the one who came on top in their duel. For the first time he would be the strongest one of the two.
Klaus would kill him if he did show up. There was no doubt in his mind. With him there was no other way. There had never been, but he'd been too blind to see it.
Not anymore. Their next confrontation would result with one of them receiving a one-way ticket to hell.
And it wouldn't be him.
A/N To begin with, I would like to thank all of the people who took the time to review or add this story to their favourite/follow list. You have no idea how much it motivates and means to me. I know that my decision to bring Camille in the previous chapter was met with a pretty negative response, so I would like to clarify some things. Klaus and Camille were never together, so to speak, and what Klaus had just started to feel for Camille will never rival what he will start to feel for Caroline. In my story, Klaus is a very broken person, who had never experienced real love and it was easy to confuse it with care and affection. Only with Caroline will he discover what true love is, you will see in the following chapters. Moreover, I like Caroline's character way too much to allow her to ever be second choice. The motivation behind Klaus's closed-off behaviour goes way deeper than what happened with Camille and it will be revealed in the future, when the story will take a turn for the dark side.
Now, I hope that you liked this chapter more than the previous one and I promise I will try to make them better every single time, for you.
