I own nothing but my own words.


Chapter One: Caring


He knew them.

He always knew them.

He never met them. Never spoke to them. Only watched them. Listened to them.

But he knew them.

In the middle of the countryside, miles away from the closest village, lived a woman and a boy. The boy was old enough for double digits but not too old so as to know everything yet.

For months, he watched them go about their day-to-day lives. Awaken as the cock crows, feed the cow, pig, and hens, collect the eggs before washing up for breakfast. The rest of the day consisted of chores like tending the garden, cleaning, doing the wash, as well as time set aside for the boy to learn his lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic. The boy didn't like his lessons and often complained.

"But, Mama, why do I have to learn it?"

"A learned man is a respected man."

"Like Papa?"

"Yes, and won't your father be surprised by all you've learned when he comes home from the war."

"Mama, when is Papa coming home?"

"Soon, sweet boy. Soon."

The boy's father didn't sound like his own, but he still feared the day the man returned. In his experience, fathers weren't that great. Also, continuing to watch this little family while avoiding detection from another person would be even more difficult. After a massive rainstorm the first month, he frightened the woman and the boy when they noticed his footprints near the home. He laid low for a few days, keeping his distance, until they accepted that it was just some curious soul passing through that meant them no harm.

As time went on, the more he began to yearn. He wanted what they had—a normal life with someone to look out for him, to care about him.

A place where he belonged.

Family.

One day, it all changed.

Reports from the closest village warned of a change in the tide. War wasn't waning, it was getting worse, and the opposing forces were pillaging towns as they passed through.

"What if they come here, Mama?"

"Then we'll give them all we have and they'll leave."

"But how will we survive?"

"We'll make do. I have a bit stashed aside for a rainy day."

"Will Papa come home and make them go away?"

"Your father is probably too far away to help."

"I wish he would come home."

As far as he could tell, the man never came back from war. In those times, no one sent word to families back home if a soldier met his fate. One simply waited for the war to end and hoped the family member returned after.

Soldiers discovered the quaint little home two days later.

The woman quickly offered everything they had in 'support' of the war effort, and even offered the home for them to sleep in for the night while she and her son would use the small shelter for their animals until they moved on.

Since he used the small animal shelter to sleep every night, he was forced to find other sleeping arrangements himself.

That was a mistake he would come to regret for hundreds of years.

A mistake that would live on in the horrors of his mind to torture him daily as he sank into a dark pit of despair.

Arriving the next morning to a destroyed homestead and the strung up bodies of the woman and child to serve as a reminder that war was ugly and the soldiers could take and murder and destroy anything they wanted eviscerated him.

It wasn't enough that he tortured himself with that image over and over again though.

No, his father found out about it in the pit, and Malivore used it to make sure Clarke relived one of the worst days of his life again and again and again. Each time the image ended before it rebooted, each time he became aware that he was reliving the past, each time he realized his hell was his father making him experience it over and over again, each time he screamed in agony as the pain of loss shot through him, he broke apart, shattering more and more each time.

Until he screamed and begged for the one thing that could put an end to it all.

Hope.


"Hope!"

Hope turned around abruptly, smile plastered to her face, "Yes?"

"Where are you going?" Lizzie asked, coming to a stop, regarding her friend with a knowing look.

"For a walk," Hope said as convincingly as possible.

"Where to?"

"Just a walk."

"I'll join you," Lizzie put her arm through Hope's and turned them back in the direction she was originally heading.

Hope stopped her before they went too far, "Something you want to talk about?"

"The fact you disappear at the same time every day, suspiciously at the same time hospital visiting hours are about to start."

Hope sighed. "Just checking in. You know, something anyone would do."

"Except he's not just anyone," Lizzie reminded her. "He's a mortal enemy."

"I wouldn't go that far," Hope smiled slightly. That definitely did not describe Clarke. It never really had but especially not lately.

"I would."

"He's human now. Harmless."

"So, that was your reason for saving his life?"

"Of course…" And, she got him into that mess… plus, seeing him like that scared the hell out of her.

"Was it also your reason for going along in the ambulance with him, staying during his surgery, and waiting at his bedside until he woke up?"

"I—"

"All while knowing my dad was dragging Malivore in Landon's body back to school," Lizzie interrupted. "You decided to stay with the newly human enemy rather than get started on saving Landon immediately."

"What exactly are you trying to get at?" Hope hedged. She knew exactly what Lizzie was saying. Choosing to stay with Clarke instead of Landon… hadn't been as difficult a choice as most people would think. She didn't know why, she just couldn't leave him.

"The truth," Lizzie deadpanned. "Does Clarke matter to you?"

It was the way Lizzie said it as if it were the most incomprehensible concept to grasp ever that had Hope denying it immediately.

"Not… really?" she cleared her throat. "No. He just doesn't have anyone."

She winced inwardly. Yeah, okay, he kind of did matter, and Lizzie totally just saw through her with that last sentence.

"So you've decided to be his someone," Lizzie narrowed her eyes.

"Lizzie," Hope tried to inflict as much of a warning as possible into her voice. She didn't want to talk about it. She had visited him every day. With Malivore imprisoned in the gym and everyone focused on finding a way to save Landon and Cleo, the few minutes she took to go see him had kind of become… the highlight of her day. His presence alone gave her hope. And, if his smile whenever she arrived was anything to go by, he looked forward to her visits as much as she did to visiting.

That wasn't something she was going to tell Lizzie.

"That's what it sounds like," Lizzie crossed her arms, indicating she wasn't about to budge on the subject.

"Hear whatever you want. I really don't have time for the third degree over visiting someone in the hospital. Are we done now?" Hope didn't understand why any of this even mattered to Lizzie. So what if she went to check in on Clarke? So what if she stayed with him instead of going with Doctor Saltzman? It was the right thing to do. Plus, he knew more about Malivore than anyone else. It was in their best interest to keep Clarke alive. It was in Landon's best interest to keep Clarke alive.

"That depends," Lizzie said with a calculating look.

"On what, Lizzie?" Hope was two seconds away from losing her patience.

"On whether I can go with you," Lizzie said with an unrelenting stubborn expression to rival Hope's own.

"Why would you even… you know what, never mind," Hope sighed. Lizzie wasn't going to be satisfied until she admitted that Clarke mattered. Then she would immediately launch into all the reasons Hope shouldn't trust him. Josie already gave her that particular speech.

She hadn't listened when Josie said it, nor would she when Lizzie did.

"I'll drive," Lizzie said by way of incentive.

"Fine," Hope pulled away and headed toward the parking lot. "I didn't feel like walking anyway."


Déjà vu.

In the flesh.

Literally.

The hospital must be having an influx in visitors because Lizzie couldn't find a spot to park. Rather than wait with her, Hope jumped out figuring she could at least give Clarke a head's up that her golden-haired bestie was on her way to make his day a little more miserable.

Walking into his room to find an empty bed confused her for all of two seconds before he came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel—as if she didn't still remember the first time clear as day.

"Shouldn't you be in one of those really unflattering gowns?" She glanced around the room under the pretense of searching for one of those gowns. Anything to keep from looking at his damp chest or the messy hair he attempted to dry with a towel but just made it look…

How it looked did not matter because she wasn't looking at it.

"The nurse went to get one… like ten minutes ago. You're early," he stopped halfway between the bathroom and the hospital bed, glancing around to see if the nurse had returned and sat it somewhere without telling him.

"I got a ride. Should you even be showering without help?" Still avoiding his scantily clad body, she went to open some cabinets but all she found were extra pillows and blankets. No gown.

"I'm not a fall risk, and I'm done with suffering the indignity of a sponge bath," he grimaced.

She laughed and finally looked at him, enjoying the look of distaste on his face until she noticed his neck.

"Well, you're bleeding again," she winced. "Maybe the indignity is worth it."

"What? Where?" He reached up to touch at his wound and, sure enough, his fingers came away with a couple light smears of blood.

"You probably tore a stitch or tugged on it. Here," she grabbed a small towel out of one of the cabinets and walked close enough to hold it gently over the healing wound.

He flinched, "Just, no fire."

"I don't gotta cauterize it again, jeez," she said, applying light pressure. "It's not like you're gushing, just a few drops."

"Right…" he swayed slightly.

"Clarke? Are you okay?" She didn't like how pale his face was.

He swallowed, "You might not want to move."

"I mean, I kind of have to eventually."

"Yeah, about that…the towel dropped," he smiled slightly despite the paleness.

"You're not serious," she stared hard at the cloth on his neck. Standing that close to a naked Ryan Clarke was not on the agenda today.

"I was rushing," he said sheepishly. "Guess it wasn't secure enough."

"Right," she was about to attempt to levitate the fallen towel without looking at it, but he continued.

"And there's another problem…"

"Dare I ask?" she bit her lip.

"I think the blood is making me woozy."

Before she could ask for further explanation, he wobbled forward, making her step back and bump into the hospital bed.

"Clarke! Don't you dare fal—"

Too late.

He fainted and fell forward against her, taking them both down on the bed with him lying squarely on top of her.

And naked as the day he was raised from the pit.

"Great," she huffed.

How was she supposed to get him off of her and keep pressure on his neck? What she really needed was a nurse. Where was the nurse with the gown? Shouldn't she be back by now?

Well, the neck wound wasn't really bleeding that badly. It probably already stopped by now. She just needed to take a peek at it—

The clearing of a throat in the doorway had her tilting her head back.

Lizzie.

Great.

With a nurse.

Double great.

"Any chance you've got that gown? And can, uh… help?" Hope asked the nurse, studiously ignoring Lizzie.

The nurse tsked as she walked around to pick up the towel and cover him, offering some kind of modesty to his bum.

"He's on the mend, maybe give your boyfriend a little more time before," the nurse cleared her throat, "well, before."

Lizzie snorted.

"No!" Hope winced. "He is not my boyfriend. He's just apparently not great with the sight of blood?" She would have thoroughly enjoyed teasing his new human self about that too, if it hadn't resulted in him fainting on her.

The nurse applied a clean bandage across the wound and taped it in place.

"Should we leave you two alone?" Lizzie asked. "Wow. Sometimes I really hate it when I'm right."

"Not what it looks like and you know it," Hope grumbled then worked to wiggle out from under the hulking six foot one figure. She would've long since used her magic to move him but with the nurse there her options were limited.

"Don't you have smelling salts or something?" Lizzie asked the nurse.

"If this were eighteen century England, maybe?" the nurse said, huffing as she struggled to get him in a good enough position on the bed once Hope was freed.

"Right," Lizzie smirked at Hope who stepped away from the bed as quickly as possible.

"Not another word," Hope glared. "Still don't know why you insisted on coming."

"And miss this? Plus, I still don't know why you insist on seeing him every day. Oh wait. I think I do now, like I said, I was right. He does matter to you. I just don't understand why."

"You do realize he knows more about Malivore than literally anyone else, right?"

"You do know he's lying right here, right?" he grumbled, coming out of his faint slowly.

"Oh goodie," Lizzie said sarcastically. "It's alive."

"I've got that gown for you," the nurse said, opening the material.

"How did I end up here?" he looked around as the nurse worked to put the covering on him.

"Don't ask," Hope said quickly.

"Sight of blood makes you weak in the knees, hmm?" Lizzie asked. "Good to know."

"Why would that be good—" Hope threw her hands in the air. "Why am I even asking?"

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Checking in?" Hope said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I mean her," he nodded at Lizzie.

"Investigating a theory," Lizzie said vaguely.

"Right," he shook his head.

"How soon before he can leave?" Hope asked the nurse.

"Gotta check with the doctors, but he may be discharged today."

"Then where ever would Hope disappear to every day?" Lizzie said disdainfully.

"Lizzie," Hope said in warning. Then to Clarke, "Where are you going once you're discharged?" They hadn't talked about that in her previous visits. They mostly talked about how he was feeling, what he missed while he was 'dead', or watched some old game show rerun from sheer boredom—which he usually kicked her butt at especially when trivia was involved.

"Haven't quite figured that out yet," he shrugged with a smile. "Anywhere is as good as another."

"I had a thought…" Hope began. She didn't feel right asking this sooner, not when he was on the mend. Not when she knew how much Malivore terrified him.

"Don't even think—" Lizzie cut in.

"Stay at the school, Clarke," Hope spoke over her friend. "Help with our Malivore problem."

His eyes met hers, his smile fading.

She knew agreeing wasn't something he would do lightly. She just hoped he didn't say no… and not just because she would miss him when he was gone.

"If you think my father will—" Lizzie tried to speak once more.

"I have two conditions," he said, speaking as if Lizzie wasn't there.

"No!" Lizzie snapped.

Hope ignored her too, "Name them."

"I want my father to believe he succeeded." His eyes bore into hers, saying without words how monumentally important that condition was.

"You want him to think you're dead," Hope nodded, understanding immediately. "Done. What else?"

To that one, he grinned.


"Absolutely not."

"He needs a place to stay; we need his knowledge," Hope said firmly. Her face showed exactly how much she wasn't willing to budge on this. "It's a win-win."

"You want me to let Agent Clarke stay here? At the school he once conned his way into running?" Alaric asked in disbelief.

"He actually did a pretty good job at running the school if you really think about it?" she rationalized.

"Not the point. And, no, he didn't."

She disagreed… except for the whole black magic club thing.

Something told her not to mention that.

"Oh, and also?" She changed the subject smoothly. "We can't call him Clarke anymore. It was one of his conditions." That one wasn't as important as his first one, but it meant a lot to him just the same.

"I could think of a few choice names for him," Alaric grumbled out the side of his mouth.

"Call him Ryan." She had known that was his first name since the second time she met him, they all just referred to him as Clarke because that's what you refer to special government agents as—their last names. She recognized his request for what it was.

His new life as a human began a few days ago and he wanted to embrace it fully starting with being called by his first name.

Like a normal human.

"Hope."

The warning in his voice didn't dissuade her in the least.

"Doctor Saltzman," she warned right back.

She could give as good as she got.

"He can't just stay here," he said, exasperated.

"Just until he's completely healed?" She injected a bit of pleading. She had known Doctor Saltzman for years. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted from him, she just had to find the right angle.

"No," he crossed his arms firmly.

"He doesn't have anywhere else to go. He has no one," she tried. Ryan hadn't actually said that. In fact, he said quite the opposite. He reinvented himself before to infiltrate a secret government agency. She had no doubt he would have no problem reinventing himself into his new persona and building a whole new life around it. The life he wanted.

"Don't be too sure about that," he shook his head.

"It's only for a few weeks and think about everything he knows. He can help with Malivore and you know it." Appealing to the logic of the situation always helped too.

He scoffed. "If he's not helping Malivore."

"He's not," she said fiercely. "Malivore just stabbed him in the neck. Why would he help him?! And what's that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"He's your friend now?" Alaric made a face.

"Frenemy," she clarified. "Sort of."

She grimaced. That wasn't the best way to convince him.

"Right."

"So that's a yes?" she asked hopefully.

"That's an 'I don't know'," he stared at her silently for several long moments. "If I agree, he's your responsibility. If he does anything he's not supposed to, it's on you."

She released a sigh of relief. He was going to say yes. "I know. Trust me, he's good now. And he'll be able to help. In more ways than one. Weren't you just saying how you needed a new History of Supernaturals teacher? He could sub?"

"Now you want me to give him a job?" he shook his head. "No way. Never happening."

When Hope left a few minutes later with a self-satisfied smirk, Kaleb entered glancing between her retreating back and the bewildered look on Doctor Saltzman's face.

"What's up, teach?"

Alaric stared after Hope, his face changing from bewildered to contemplative. The way Hope dove right in, defending Clarke and using every trick in the book to convince him to let the former mudman stay, it was very… suspicious.

"Nothing I want to hazard a guess at..."


"Can't he sit in the back?" Lizzie grumbled as Hope climbed into the backseat, leaving the front passenger seat for Ryan.

"There's barely any leg room," he said, sitting down and slamming the door shut.

"More space than the trunk," Lizzie muttered, putting the car into gear.

"You're not wrong," he winced, remembering waking up in the darkness of that small enclosed space.

"What he means is, thank you for giving him a ride," Hope said pointedly.

"Right, thanks," he said reluctantly, putting the seatbelt on quickly when Lizzie took a turn too sharply.

"Can't believe Dad said yes," Lizzie shook her head. "Guess its true, Hope really can get him to say yes to anything."

"It's for Landon, not me," Hope corrected quickly. Even though they came to a new understanding about each other in that sci-fi dream, she didn't want to further the idea that Doctor Saltzman preferred her to his own daughters. It simply wasn't true.

"Right," Ryan nodded. "Get Malivore out of my brother. The sooner, the better. Then I can get out of this town and never come back."

Lizzie sputtered with laughter, "What? Kinda hard to have a job at the Salvatore School when you don't live in town."

"A job? What?" He looked back at Hope, confused.

"Just to sub for a while… until you're healed," Hope shrugged. "You needed a place to stay and with Triad Industries gone, you need a job too, right?"

"So, you got Saltzman to give me a job?" he shook his head. He didn't know why she would do that or why the man would agree, but he didn't want it.

"If I get assigned to any of your classes, I'm putting in a transfer stat," Lizzie said.

"I'm not staying that long," he said. "And I'm not teaching."

"Wonder if that has anything to do with student-teacher relationships being frowned upon," Lizzie muttered under her breath.

"What?" he asked, not making out her words though he tried.

"Ignore her," Hope said, understanding Lizzie clearly. She leaned forward. "You don't want a job? Fine. Let's just get this over with."

She would also rather Lizzie stopped reading into things. She guessed after Lizzie found Ryan passed out naked on top of her, she went from wondering if Ryan mattered to Hope to thinking way more was going on between them. She needed Lizzie to stop that train of thought before it got out of hand. It wasn't true, and she didn't want Ryan to catch wind of Lizzie's implications.

He nodded. "That's all I want."

You and me, both.


"At least you're decent this time."

Ryan glanced up from writing at the corner desk in his temporary room at the Salvatore Boarding School.

Hope.

He wasn't sure he would ever get used to seeing her so often. Though, that was probably a good thing because once he moved on it would be better not to expect her to knock at his door. He could save himself the disappointment that way.

"Wouldn't have left the door open otherwise," he said as he tossed his pen down and turned toward her.

She walked in and glanced around.

"Kinda small, but it works for now," she shrugged. "Came to escort you to breakfast."

"Worried I couldn't find my way?" he asked.

She smirked. She wasn't going to tell him the real reason was Doctor Saltzman making her responsible for him, especially not when she could finally tease him.

"Well, as a human who faints at the sight of blood, there's no telling what could happen on the short walk from here to there."

The amusement in her voice had him rolling his eyes.

"Just one of the quirks." That one he wasn't too pleased about, but, as he was quickly learning, being a human sucked so he would just have to get used to it.

"Funny how gushing at the neck didn't provoke that reaction in you," she noted.

"Maybe it's some kind of PTSD from that?" he suggested. He was trying to figure it out himself. "Or maybe I was just in shock before."

She considered, "Okay, I'll concede one of those possibilities. You were really freaked."

"So were you," he pointed out. "Freaked, almost like you were worried about me."

First Lizzie, now Ryan was fishing for the inside scoop on her feelings. Ugh.

"Hmm," she murmured noncommittally.

"Were you?" he asked. "Worried?"

He knew better than to ask, but he couldn't help himself.

"I'm not one to let someone die, Ryan," she said instead of answering.

"Except you did, you let me die," he reminded her.

"I didn't have a choice before."

"You kinda did, but that's ok," he shrugged. "Feelings take time. Bet you thought about me a lot after my 'death'."

"You'd lose that bet." She hadn't really thought about him that much. When she did… she felt bad she hadn't been able to do anything to help him. She hoped wherever death took him granted him some kind of peace. Finding out he was in Malivore all that time… well, she was glad she hadn't known he was there suffering.

She was surprised he was even asking if she worried about him like he didn't already know. She thought she was doing pretty well at showing concern by showing up daily at the hospital

"Enough to make you regret letting me die at least," he added.

Sometimes he read her mind and it startled her, which immediately made her defensive.

"You think really highly of yourself," she said, deflecting his statement.

"Just pointing out the obvious," he said innocently. "You seemed desperate to save me this time. Like you were freaking out. Do you usually do that over someone you don't care about?"

Why was he trying so hard to get her to admit she cared about him? She wasn't ready to say it… he probably deserved the truth, but part of her knew there was more going on with her than just caring about him.

Admitting that to herself was enough to reveal more than she meant to just to get him to stop prying.

"It was how my mom died, alright?!" she blurted out.

He frowned.

"The first time. When she became a hybrid. Mom always told me everything, like how they slit her throat right after she had me. Seeing you like that, I didn't realize before how traumatic it must've been. Between you freaking out and everything, I just…" she coughed and looked away. "I'm glad you're alive."

That was enough for him.

"... Me too." He wasn't expecting her to open up to him. He just wanted to hear her say she cared about him. "Thank you for saving my life."

"Funny how my blood is what saved her then, but you wouldn't let me use it to save you now." She was a bit lost in her thoughts still.

"I couldn't take the chance…" If she knew what he went through, she would know why.

"I know," she said, her eyes meeting his once again.

Maybe she did understand why. Just like he knew she did care about him.

Maybe one day she would understand why he needed to hear it.

But he knew it was true. She did everything she could to save him, she stayed with him, and she checked on him daily. She was glad he survived. If she wouldn't tell him she cared in so many words then maybe it was time to change the atmosphere to a lighter one with some good old-fashioned teasing between friends…frenemies?...

Friends.

"So, yesterday, when I passed out, how bad was it?" he said slyly. He was pretty sure he knew what happened after he passed out. Now was as good a time as ever to bring it up, especially since she brought up his fainting at the sight of blood in the first place.

"Oh, you know," she replied as quickly as possible. "The nurse showed right after and helped. She, uh, covered you." Well. This conversation just went into awkward territory. Why did she mention him having to be covered up? She bit her lip, wishing she could take the words back.

"Wasn't anything you haven't seen before," he said innocuously.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she narrowed her eyes.

His crooked grin fell into place as he continued. "Back at the cabin. Lizzie knocked me out, I was wearing a robe. Woke up in the trunk wearing something else. Figure that was you."

"For crying out loud," she yelped. "I did a spell!"

"If you say so," he said knowingly.

"I've never seen you naked!" Why was she continuing to argue with him about it? And why did her face feel flushed?

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?" He kept egging her on. "Your face is all red."

She glared and raised her finger to point at him, "If you want a scar to match the one you already have, keep it up!"

He couldn't resist. "You mean my sexy scar?"

She threw her hands up and turned around sharply, "Breakfast alone it is."

"I'm kidding!" he laughed and followed her out of the room.

He was already immensely enjoying his time there.

Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as the dread that formed in the pit of his stomach when he agreed to help her told him it would be.

He really hoped not.


He knew this place.

He knew her.

"What did you wish for?!"

"A savior," he choked out.

She released her magical grip on his throat and stared at him in surprise.

"What? You think I want this?" he swept his arms out. "To die at midnight? I would do anything to stop it. Can you blame me?"

"At the expense of everyone at the school?"

"What do I care about them? They don't care about me. You don't care about me."

"After what you've done? Why would they? Why would I?"

"What would you do to survive?"

"Not this," she shook her head.

"Then, please, tell me what to do? Because I know nothing else."

"You want me to save you."

"I don't care who does it, I just can't seem to do it by myself. And I don't want to die."

She stared at him quietly for a long moment.

"I don't want you to die either."

She didn't want him to die. Did that mean she actually cared that he lived? That she cared about him? He was afraid to ask his next question because, if she said no, then she really didn't care.

He asked anyway.

"Will you help me?"

And she did. She dug through Alaric Saltzman's black magic books as quickly as possible with the midnight deadline fast approaching, made even easier given the adult's affinity for Christmas and spiked cocoa at the moment. She found a spell that recreated his golem body without using parts of his father and used his trident to transfer his consciousness from the simu-Landon body into a brand new mud body. He was no longer connected to Malivore; and, miraculously, he was no longer desperate for a solution to survive.

He was going to live.

She saved him.

She cared about him.

Laughter.

Eerie and creepy.

The laughter grew.

Sounding out louder and louder in his mind.

Along with the laughter came stark awareness.

None of it was real.

It never happened.

He never placed his faith in Hope.

He put it in his father, thinking the Krampus was sent to save him.

Thinking that his father cared for once.

But Malivore didn't care.

Neither did she.

The knowledge that the perfect memory of her caring about him was never real tore at his already ravaged and suffering soul.

The torture, it was never going to end.

His father wouldn't allow it.


To be continued…