If you recognize it, I don't own it! I own the OCs and a weird fascination with owls (hence the user name being the scientific name of an elf owl, and the profile pic of an elf owl)
TW: Miriam remembers her attack from the last chapter.
The Powers That Be hate me, Miriam thought miserably.
It was about two weeks into the new year, into 2010. The new year had passed with little fanfare and a phone call to Baahir and Philip. The holiday did bring up feelings of introspection. She had been living in this alternate reality for two solid years and was now entering her third year. She would be twenty-three this upcoming March. Recently, she had been wondering if her choices had been the correct ones. Should she have decided to intervene with the storyline of the Vampire Diaries? She could have just had Baahir compel their way to Mexico, or another Central or South American country. She could have carved a simple but fulfilling life as a teacher somewhere. Maybe she could have met a nice boy and had a couple of kids. She fantasized over this lost life on days that were particularly difficult.
Those days were becoming increasingly frequent.
Miriam was currently spread out on her futon in its couch form. Her body ached from it's recent attack. She flinched whenever she thought about Mr. Schmitt and his hands on her body. She had never been hurt that badly by another human being before. She knew, like nearly everybody knew, that people were capable of great evil. But she had never experienced it before. For all her crappy luck, she had stayed relatively safe the past two years. Mr. Schmitt had reminded her that while she might live in a fantasy world, she was most definitely not in a fairytale.
His hands had been big, like paws. Her shoulders and arms were bruised where he had grabbed her. Her cheek was bruised too, as were various parts of her body from where he kicked her. There was an imprint of a shoe on her stomach from when he stomped on her. Her thigh sported a bruise so deep that it was painful to walk. When he had thrown her to the floor her head had hit the side of a cabinet, and now she had a nasty gash on her forehead. When he had paused in kicking her- beating her- she thought that maybe he had felt remorse, or that at the very least he was finished. From her position on the floor, cowering like a dog, she had seen Mr. Schmitt start to undo his belt.
Miriam wanted to be able to retell the story with flare: She picked herself up and took his belt from him and dealt out several justifiable whacks to the perverted man. After reducing him to a sniveling, pathetic mess, she would kick him in the balls and leave the house with her head held high. But that didn't happen. She doesn't want to believe that she was lucky that Mrs. Schmitt arrived before her husband managed to get his belt off, but she knew that she was lucky. Compassion had flashed in Mrs. Schmitt's eyes when she took in Miriam's broken form, but then a mask of stone fell over her features. She called Miriam a whore, then fired her and kicked her out of the house.
Mrs. Schmitt's actions had gotten Miriam out of the house quickly. She had limped to the company car and drove back to the company's building in town. Her boss had given her a warning for 'unprofessional conduct', and then sent her home for the week. His actions were both a punishment and a kindness; Miriam now had time to recover without straining herself, but she wasn't making any money.
It had been four days since the attack, and Miriam had barely moved from her bed/couch. She needed to go grocery shopping, but her food budget had been allocated to her rent budget. She used the word 'budget' because it sounded very mature and grown-up. In actuality she had four old peanut cans on the counter that held the cash for each life expense: rent, food, bus fare, and miscellaneous (clothing, knitting materials, medicine). The miscellaneous peanut can had been empty for two months.
Somedays, the low days, Miriam resented her life. She resented her grandparents for raising her in a comfortable middle-class life, because it made the transition to her hard, lower-class life very difficult. Occasionally she would resent Baahir. He was living his life with his soulmate, and Marcel Gerard was supplementing their income with his own funds. When her low days were over, her resentment of her grandparents and Baahir would disappear. Her grandparents had given her the best life that they could, how could she fault them for that? And Baahir deserved happiness after 800 years alone. She wouldn't pop his bubble with her trivial problems. But there was one entity that constantly had Miriam's wrath. Miriam frequently hated whoever sent her here; God with a capital G, the gods, or the universe, or whatever. Whoever had plucked her from her easy (and lonely) life before tossing her into her current life had a harsh talking-to coming their way. Why couldn't she have been the original character who fell into her favorite fictional universe, landing on her fictional crush. Miriam would have loved to have fallen into Loki's lap in the Marvel Universe (maybe she could have gotten real powers, not blood that tasted funky), or Kylo Ren/Ben Solo's lap in the Star Wars universe (lightsabers and Jedi mind powers would have rocked), or even Sherlock's lap from the TV show Sherlock (he'd rip her to shreds verbally, but it wouldn't be boring)… Miriam knew she had a thing for bad boys and morally gray characters, but it was just a fantasy.
Now that she was in a universe filled with morally gray characters she wasn't in a huge hurry to meet them. She dreaded the day when she had to meet Klaus Mikaelson. He was notoriously unpredictable. Would her knowledge of the future be any help to him? Surely he would want to live longer than the next 20 years, but if she told him everything (or he got the information from her) would he keep her alive? Miriam knew she would need to make herself as indispensable as possible…
But Miriam was also becoming a realist. During her darker days, she believed that she didn't have long to live. In this world, if you weren't a main character you didn't get the plot armor. And even then, your survival wasn't a sure thing. To ensure her survival, her plan was to make a deal with Elijah at the very beginning. She would let Elena get kidnapped, then after the Salvatores rescued the doppelganger and 'killed' Elijah, Miriam would be there to bargain with the second eldest Mikaelson.
Knowledge for money and security, that would be her deal. Elijah and Klaus would get a play-by-play of Mikaelson tragedies, and she would get enough money to start a life far away from Mystic Falls and New Orleans. Maybe she would get a cabin somewhere up in Alaska. She could live out the rest of her life as unobtrusive as possible. Miriam didn't belong in this world, and after saving the Mikaelsons, she would fade to obscurity.
The thought was depressing, but she knew it was the best option for her.
Day five into her mini-vacation someone pounded on her door.
Miriam groaned. She wasn't ready for life to intrude into her solitude. Her body still ached, and probably would for a couple more weeks.
Reluctantly, she dragged her body off the couch and to the door. She groaned again when she saw who it was.
Damon Salvatore stood on the other side.
"I can hear you breathing, let me in," he snapped.
"I am sooo not in the mood for whatever this is," she said once she opened the door.
"I don't care," he pushed her deeper into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"Don't play games with me," he hissed.
Miriam sighed. "Where are you? Events-wise, I mean. What just happened, give me some context. I've been kinda busy the past couple of days, so I haven't been in town."
"The tomb. Katherine wasn't in there. And then Alaric just came back to life from a special, mystical ring, and did you know?"
Miriam carefully lowered her body down onto the couch. "Yes, I knew that Katherine wasn't in the tomb, and I knew that you would kill Alaric but the Gilbert ring would save him. I know everything you've done since you entered Mystic Fall, who you killed, who you talked to, and what you will do in the future."
"Why didn't you tell me that Katherine wasn't in the tomb?! I spent so long trying to get her free," he vamp-sped across the room and punched the wall.
Miriam frowned at the hole, and decided the next time she visited the Goodwill she would get a picture to cover it.
"I didn't want to change anything too big too soon. In a couple of months I'm going to start being a more active player in this twisted game, but I couldn't change things early on, because my knowledge would change."
Damon still seemed angry, but his breathing seemed to even out. "Will I see her again?"
"Yes, I promise you," she said sincerely.
He sighed and rubbed his face. "So you aren't all-knowing, Mysterious Miriam?"
"No. I just know the past, and one version of the future. It's like a ripple effect: if I change something big now I might affect other events in the future, and then suddenly I'm not useful anymore, because I changed so much."
"Can you tell me anything about the immediate future?"
"Stefan's going to fall off the metaphorical blood wagon," in too much pain to care whether or not this piece of information might cause a ripple effect, Miriam added, "It's going to be hard on you and Elena. Be patient with each other and with Stefan."
Damon nodded, and sat down next to her. He glanced over her damaged body. "What happened to you? Get into a cat fight? Can I watch next time?" he leered, but she knew it was a mask to hide his emotions.
His light-hearted (if slightly perverted) tone made Miriam flinch. "No. It was nothing like that. I clean houses for a living, and this one homeowner has been watching me for a long time. Five days ago… well, let's just say he wanted me to do more than clean his kitchen. When I refused, he got a little violent," she weakly motioned to her bruised body.
Striking blue eyes seemed to document every bruise and cut visible, and how she sat gingerly. Miriam ignored his gaze. The anger and fear from the attack was bubbling up her throat, and she found herself continuing to speak.
"I can handle pain. I have a really high pain tolerance. But what made the whole thing so unbearable was the way he saw me. The names he called me when I rejected him… these names attacked my gender, my race, and my class. As if working for him gave him the right to demand sex! As if my race was something to be belittled for! As if my gender made me a second-class citizen!
"I've had people call me all those names before. As a person of color, you just kinda accept that's how some messed-up people see you. But I grew up sheltered from the brunt of it. I was raised to respect everyone I meet," Miriam scoffed. "Do you know how much of a target kindness makes of you? Do you understand how encouraged men get from a single respectful word? I kept calling him 'sir' even after he repeatedly told me to call him by his first name. He thought it was a game. I was trying to be professional, respectful. HA. I stayed silent and respectful when he groped my ass on multiple occasions. I had to smile when he called me slurs. By the way, saying 'you sure are pretty for a _' is not a compliment! It is, in fact, an insult. I just…" she deflated into the couch like a balloon. "I know that there are some entitled, racist men out there, I just never expected to be attacked by one."
They sat in silence for a long time.
Finally, turning to make eye-contact with Miriam, Damon asked, "What is his name?"
Miriam didn't even hesitate before answering, "Jonathan Schmitt. He lives down Maple Drive, third house on the left."
Damon nodded. They continued their silence for a minute, before a random thought popped into Miriam's head.
"Hey, how did you get into my apartment a couple of months ago? Aren't vampires supposed to need permission to enter a dwelling?"
Damon grinned. "Yes, but you aren't the owner of the apartment, your landlord is. I had to compel him to let me into the building as a whole. I could walk into any apartment now."
"Huh. Learn something new every day."
Miriam healed slowly, but the need to generate income was more important than her well-being. The day after her boss took her off 'vacation' she was back cleaning houses. The other women who worked with her whispered tips to get rid of the bruises and places that would 'get rid of any situation you might have'. Miriam thanked them for their help. She wouldn't need the second piece of advice, but anything that helped her bruises fade faster would be helpful.
Her nightmares had a new villain in them: Mr. Schmitt. Despite the news saying that he died from a mixture of black ice and a too-fast car, Miriam was still haunted. She was glad he was gone, but she could still feel his hands on her body.
Miriam had a long (extensive, annotated, color-coded) list of things she wanted to buy or do once she had money. One thing that was rapidly rising to the top of her list was a therapist. While she might have a hard time finding one that believed in magical creatures (there had to be a therapist out there who knew of vampires, werewolves, and witches), she knew she needed to find one for her peace of mind. She had been through a lot of shit the past couple of years, and she knew that talking to someone would be very helpful for her state of mind.
Miriam kept better track of the storyline once she was healed. It was late February when things began to speed up. She heard about Tyler, Matt, and Caroline's car accident on the 26th, and knew that Caroline was going to become a vampire.
Several nights later, there was a knock at her door.
Miriam was surprised to find Caroline on the other side, but let her in.
"Hi. I have a bone to pick with you," Caroline marched into the room looking frazzled. She casually tossed her jacket onto Miriam's couch before beginning to pace.
"By all means, make yourself at home," Miriam mumbled as she closed the front door.
"Vampires, werewolves, and witches are all real, and also I'm a vampire, a brand new, baby vampire, like what even?! But what's worse is you knew!" Caroline accused. "I remember Damon bringing me here months ago. You told me stories about my future vampire self that night. You call me strong and beautiful. But how did you know?"
"I'm a knower. It's nothing like what Bonnie can do. I'm…" she hesitated, trying to find the right word, "an abnormality. I know things I shouldn't, Caroline, and that can get me in trouble. You saw what happened that night. I tried to control Damon and he bit me and fed from me."
"But you could have warned me about, I don't know, anything that was going to happen! Matt breaking up with me, Katherine threatening me to spy on Elena-" Caroline waved her hands wildly in the air, "But you didn't!"
Miriam never had a younger sister, or interacted with her younger cousins. She didn't really know how to calm down a hysterical teenager, so she did what she thought would work for herself: "Do you want something to eat?"
Caroline paused in her accusations to stare at Miriam like she was crazy. "What? No! If you didn't know, I drink blood now," she added sassily.
"Yeah, and you can also eat human food. Do you want some Oreos?" Miriam went to her tiny kitchen and pulled a package of unopened Oreos. She offered the treat to a flabbergasted Caroline. Slowly, the teenage vampire accepted the cookies, and sat down on the couch. She opened them and took a couple before handing the package back to a smiling Miriam.
Miriam sat down next to the blond girl. She took advantage of the quiet moment to observe the differences between human Caroline and vampire Caroline.
The differences were slight. Caroline still looked like the teenager she was. There was no magical difference to her hair, or eyes, or skin. There was no ethereal glow around her. She didn't sparkle (sometimes Miriam wished she was in the Twilight universe, just so she could see sparkling vampires). No, the outside package was unchanged. What had changed was how Caroline held herself. Her movements were more graceful, more calculated. She looked like she could go from relaxed to snarling in a moment's notice. She might be cute and perky, but the fact of the matter was that she was at the top of the food chain now. She was stronger, faster, and more durable than the human race. She was a predator.
"Why didn't you warn me?" the question was softer, almost a whisper. "You knew that Damon's compulsion would go away once I was dead, so why didn't you tell me anything useful?"
"I didn't want to change the future too much," Miriam admitted. "If I do that… if I change too much too early, I become expendable. And if I become expendable, then there's nothing protecting me."
Miriam turned slightly to look Caroline in the eyes.
"But I promise you, I will try to stop the very bad things from hurting you. I'm only human, but if I can stop just a little bit of your future pain, then this horrible journey will have been worth it."
Caroline's eyes gentled. "Thank you, by the way, for stopping Damon from compelling me to have sex with him. All he did was feed on me and kiss me a couple of times. I mean, he was a jerk, but he could have been much worse."
"I'm glad. I did wonder if he ignored me," Miriam was relieved.
"No. He wants you as a potential weapon or ally too badly," Caroline revealed. "He told me once. He was pissed, but he thought that having you in debt to him was worth more."
Being in-debt to Damon wasn't exactly comforting, but Miriam would take the win.
"There's a lot coming your way this year," she told Caroline. "There's going to be moments when everything feels hopeless, or frustrating, or infuriating. I'm going to be involved more, but what I can't have happen is you or one of the others coming to my door for advice. Have you told anyone that I exist?"
Caroline shook her head.
"Good. Let's keep it that way for a little while. Also, don't tell Katherine about me. I'm not important to her plans, but I don't want her thinking I'm a threat."
Miriam didn't want to die via Katherine Pierce. She was quirky that way.
"That being said, if you ever need a place to crash if life gets crazy, my door is always open," Miriam smiled at Caroline.
"I might take you up on that offer. My life's pretty crazy right now," Caroline laugh was forced.
"I mean it," Miriam grasped Caroline's hands in hers. "Anytime."
"Thank you," she whispered.
They stayed on Miriam's couch talking for a couple more hours, which was a balm to both of their souls. Miriam hadn't gotten close to anyone besides Baahir since landing in the alternate universe two full years previous. Talking to an upbeat Caroline felt different, nice. Caroline admitted that her life had become so full of drama that she sometimes felt like she couldn't breathe. They talked about their respective families, but made sure to keep the stories light. Miriam told Caroline about the time her grandmother had forgotten to put water into a brownie recipe, resulting in flat (but edible) brownies that Miriam had been told to share with the neighbor kids. Caroline shared a story about the time her mom had accidentally put an uncapped pen in her sheriff uniform's front pocket, staining the shirt black. They laughed and ate Oreos until the package was empty and their sides hurt from laughing.
Miriam knew the storm was coming, but until then, she was going to enjoy the calm.
AN: THANKS to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited A Small Boat on the Ocean! You guys are the best!
We reached the end of season 1! Who's excited for some real Mikaelson face-to-face interaction?!
SO I'm going to torture Miriam for a little while longer. I thought it would be difficult for me to harm my OCs, but it's surprisingly easy, lol
My second semester of grad school has begun! I'm not thrilled with the online aspect (COVID sucks), but I'm happy to be learning again.
Stay safe, folks! - Whitney
