Down my arms, a thousand satellites

Suddenly discover signs of life.

- Sleeping At Last, Touch

We love you, Hope. Always and forever.

The words resonated inside of her head as she tightened the grip she had on the wheel, inevitably bringing tears to her already teary eyes. Hope had been driving for hours, she had let the car windows down and had allowed herself to feel the cold air of the night hit her and dry the tears that she couldn't keep from falling. It felt good somehow, it helped her concentrate on something that wasn't the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings rushing through her mind.

She had left as soon as she had woken up. In the middle of the night, the school was so quiet she could hear the calm breath of those whose sleep was not disturbed by nightmares. She could also hear Dr. Saltzman and Lizzie talking up in hers and Josie's room.

Lizzie.

Hope closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had wronged many people recently, but Lizzie had been the one who suffered the most. She had done and said horrendous things to her. She had killed her. She had robbed her of the choice no one gave her. Lizzie was a heretic, and it was her fault.

She shook her head and took another deep breath. She knew she had to deal with that guilt, that she had to face both Lizzie and Dr. Saltzman eventually. That she had to face them all eventually. She knew how much she had to make up for, apologize for, fight for.

She wasn't running away. She hadn't forgotten her responsibilities, or about gods coming back and the world falling apart once again. She hadn't forgotten how much her friends needed her. After all, she had spent the last days fighting herself so hard to come back so she could protect them. And she was going to, she had to, she owed them that much. So no, this wasn't abandonment. She would be back before they noticed she was gone.

However, after the day she had had, all she wanted - all she needed - was to go home, even if just for a night. To wake up to the sound of music outside her window, and to breathe in the smell of old wooden furniture and dry paint. To hold and be held by those who meant the most to her…

Seeing the streets of New Orleans again had been hard and she knew that with her emotions on it would probably be ten times worse. But she needed to do it. She needed to actually be there, to be able to use her newly gained senses to feel every texture, memorize every smell, rediscover the colors and sounds that surrounded the city and made it feel alive.

Hope snorted and let out a small laugh, her eyes filling up with tears once again. New Orleans was home to the most beautiful and the most painful memories she had. It was ironic how a place could be the stage to such different emotions. And that was why she needed to go back in the first place, because that was where it all had started, where she started piling up all this guilt, all this pain and all this trauma that had filled her up and that spilled eventually, driving her to turn her humanity off the night she killed Landon.

Landon.

She held her breath for a second and swallowed hard. She could feel a meltdown coming and she knew she couldn't let it happen. Not in that moment, not there, in the middle of the road, all alone. She had people who loved her and would hold her as she broke down just a couple of hours away. People who understood the sacrifice she had made, who understood what that meant to her of all people, who understood how much it affected her. Killing Landon had been the final straw in a series of unhealed traumas she had been piling up.

My humanity flipped the second that sword went through Landon.

That was true. Even though turning one's humanity off was supposed to be a choice, she didn't feel like she had had one. She had closed her eyes as they kissed and professed their love to each other, looking inside of her own mind and heart for that one place she used to store all of her grief. The same place she had stored her feelings the night she said goodbye to her father, the day she buried her mother, the moment she left the prison world and Ralf behind, the instant she decided she had to become a tribrid. And the second she felt the sword she carved out of her own blood go through Landon's chest, that place became too small to fit all of the pain and, in desperation, she had found the one voice in the back of her head that said "turn it off!" and she obeyed.

My whole life has been one trauma after another trauma, and if I have to become the Tribrid, it's like I'm stuck in that trauma forever.

She had no idea back then how right she had been about that, and how much it would actually affect her, to the point of being scared of her own humanity because she was afraid of letting herself feel the weight of all of her trauma, forever. Her no humanity self had asked why she had let herself do all of the terrible things she had done, kill countless people, set the world on fire as she had put it herself. She had wondered herself how she could have just watched it happen and only interfere after she had done things she couldn't come back from.

The truth is, she was afraid. She was afraid of having to feel the weight that crushed her in that very moment. She was afraid of having to repeat the same cycle - love, lose, grieve, repeat - all over again, forever, knowing there was no more space left to store pain inside of her.

Selfishness.

That was another reason for her last minute trip to New Orleans, to her family home. She had many struggles ahead of her, and she honestly didn't know if she would make it out alive. What she did know, however, is that she needed her dad with her. She needed to find that perfect spot, to feel him near.

Our family has infinite struggles ahead, but right now, I need to be here... with my daughter. I'll always be here for you. Even if I can't truly be by your side, holding your hand.

She let the tears run down her cheeks this time. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hand holding hers that night, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and his hand pressing against her neck, bringing her as close as he could to comfort her. If she focused hard enough, she could feel his gaze on her, intense and pained, but full of love.

"I know you're out there, you know" she whispered in a crying voice to the emptiness of the car and closed her eyes for another long second. "I know you're looking after me, and I'm sorry if I disappointed you... I promised I would be okay, that I would make you proud..." she continued, her own words from years ago echoing in her head. "Instead I made a mess out of things. And I don't even know how to begin to fix it, dad. I really wish you and mom were here to tell me..."

She rested her head on the seat and took a long breath. She wished for them to be there more than anything in the world. She knew it was impossible, and she had accepted that a long time ago. And she knew her mother was at peace, she had seen it. But the thought of her father tormenting himself watching her go through this brought her so much more pain. And, deep down, she simply felt like a lost child who just wanted her parents.

I've spent my entire life trying to get our family back together, and if anything, I ruined it, okay? I-I broke it. So please, just let me go, because I'm tired. I'm so tired. And if anything, I just want my mom, I just want my mom.

"I'm so tired" she repeated her own words as they came back to haunt her, fighting to keep her tears from becoming something much stronger and powerful. She had been tired for so long she had forgotten what it was like to not be. And having Landon, having her friends, she had felt like for the first time since her mother had died she could rest a little.

But just like always, time had found her and taken away her safe place to land. And this time, ironically, it really had been her fault. Her entire life she felt guilty for people leaving, dying. After all, her family had sacrificed everything, including their eternal vow, for her, and her parents had both died to protect her. She had always felt like she metaphorically had the blood of her most loved ones on her hands. It had to be only a matter of time before the universe made her actually have the blood of someone she loved on her hands.

The sight of the blue entrance sign that read Welcome to New Orleans, adorned with the fleur de lys that decorated her home and her family jewelry, brought Hope out of her reverie. She really was home.

Hope stopped the car for a second, closed her eyes, breathed in, and listened - really listened. It was sometime between 3 and 5 am. Back in Mystic Falls, that was the silent hour, the moment when everyone and everything was asleep, except for herself during restless nights. But she let her senses search through the night, and she could hear trumpets, hoarse voices singing sad melodies, friends laughing and walking down the streets of the french quarter. She could identify the sounds and smells of Bourbon Street, and if she tried hard enough she could identify the faint smell of beignets being baked for those who left bars in the wee hours of the morning. She could hear artists offering to paint portraits of tourists in Jackson Square.

Mom said you loved New Orleans most of all.

She let a hint of a smile take her lips. She understood why her father loved the city so much. Not only because he had helped build it, but because somehow every inch of that town screamed his name. It was full of colors, of art, of music, it was like a living organism, full of light and darkness cohabiting. It was beautiful and decadent at the same time, exciting and mysterious.

After having reached a corner of the city close enough to the Quarter, Hope got down from the car and let herself wander the streets for a while, watching the night life of the city and taking in every detail she could perceive. She didn't know if she would be able to come back, or if she could bring herself to do it anytime soon if she survived the outcome of a war against the gods. She knew she wanted to keep those details in her memory, as if she had been seeing the city through her father's eyes for the first time.

Not long after she started walking, she spotted the ornamented galleries of the Mikaelson compound. To the common tourist, it could have been any balcony from the city, but Hope could recognize the patterns that decorated the metals with her eyes closed. She had spent a long time analyzing them. She used to have fun imagining what her father was thinking when he chose those details for the Abattoir.

She stood by the front door for a few minutes, taking up the courage to walk inside for the first time in years, to see the walls and floors and furniture that had all been minutiously chosen by her father, to see the Mikaelson crest carved on stone on the walls, to see the rooms that used to be inhabited by her father, by her, by her mother.

Hope tried to listen to any movement inside the compound, but couldn't. Of course, she told herself and smirked a bit, it's a house of witches and vampires, privacy can only be attained with some magic.

After pondering for what felt like forever, she finally took a step inside her home, opening the metal gate and entering the Abattoir. Hope took a deep breath that got caught up in her throat. It was exactly as she remembered. It was almost as if nothing had changed since the last night she was there. Surely, she could spot some changes, like some wooden toys lying on the floor, next to the fountain, that probably belonged to her cousin. She looked up, observing the second floor where the bedrooms and the library were. She wondered if her father's art studio was still there, if her room was still there…

Hope took a few hesitant steps towards the stairs, wondering how long it would take for someone to notice she was there. However, the sight of an object on top of a table in the back corridor caught her entire attention. There it was, sitting on a beautifully furnished table, her father's urn, his recovered remains, the one thing that had gotten to her when nothing and no one else could.

She approached it, her eyes watering and her breathing getting harder. She didn't hear it when someone walked down the stairs, nor when the person walked down the corridor in her direction. She only became aware of their presence when she heard their voice calling her in the way she was perfectly used to.

"Hey, gorgeous" Hope heard the sleepy voice of her aunt and slowly turned around to face her, tears streaming down her face as all of the emotions that she had been trying to keep from coming to surface for the last 14 hours made their way out.

You know that feeling inside, like a balloon constantly filling up, always on the verge of popping? Well, let it pop!

Lizzie's words came to her mind just as she whispered a soft "Auntie Freya" and ran into her aunt's arms, letting herself sob as hard as humanly possible. She could see the candle lights flickering and hear the shaking of objects inside of the cabinets, but when Freya wrapped her arms around her and let them both fall to the floor, she knew she didn't have to try to control what was coming out of her. She knew her aunt understood.

And so she let herself cry and scream, flashes of her mother, her father, her uncle Elijah, Landon and everyone she had loved and lost going through her head. Flashes of Lizzie. Of Josie. Of the horrible things she had said to them, the unforgivable things she had done to them. She let a wave of guilt hit her. And then a wave of grief. And a wave of fear. She could still lose them all, she could still lose everything that was left : her friends and her family. What if she couldn't win? What if something did happen to them? And even worse, what if they perished and she remained? She was the tribrid after all, an immortal and unstoppable force of nature. And her greatest fear could come true. She could be left infinitely and utterly alone. Always and forever.

Hope started gasping for air, panic settling in as she considered the possibility of ever having to go through the scenarios she was making up in her own head. She could imagine what no humanity Hope would say : "See, you are weak. And you are never going to save the people you love, you're not strong enough, and you will end up alone."

"Sshh, it's okay" she heard her aunt's soothing voice and felt her fingers go through her hair trying to comfort her. "It's alright, sweetie, you are safe, you are home. Let it all out, we're here for you."

We.

She looked up from her aunt's shoulders where she had buried her head, and she saw the ones who had been there for her all day fighting to get her back. Marcel kneeled on the floor next to where they were sitting, and was followed by Rebekah and Kol, who sat down crossed-legged beside her.

"It's okay, kiddo" Marcel said and touched her hair, receiving a sob in response. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

"And if it ever isn't okay" Rebekah proceeded, touching Hope's shoulder. "You will always have a place to come home to. We are your family, Hope"

"And though we have been more absent than we should" Kol stated, looking down in what she recognized as shame. He looked her in the eyes before continuing. "We do love you, kid."

"Always and forever" Freya finished, whispering in her ear as she hugged her as tightly as she could.

Always and forever.

She had heard those words pronounced so many times, yet every time it felt like it touched parts of her that were so deeply rooted. That's what family was. That's what loving was. That's what being a Mikaelson was. And most importantly, that's what being her father's daughter meant. It wasn't, unlike what the world kept trying to convince her of, the darkest thoughts in her mind, her cruelest actions, her biggest mistakes.

You are equal parts your father and mother.

Hope took a long and deep breath, smiling through the tears and she took in the sight of what was left of her family. Her father was right: his death wasn't the end of the Mikaelsons, and they would always come to her rescue, time and time again, no matter what she did or how far she pushed them away. And, in hindsight, she was thankful for that.

"I love you guys too," she managed to whisper. "Always and forever."