Author's Note: Thank you so much for the overwhelmingly positive response to my story. I am glad that you are enjoying it so far. I just wanted to let people know that dreams and memories play a role in this tale too so if something seems out of place at first it will all be explained. Don't worry - by the end, all questions are (hopefully) answered.

Part Two: heartbeat

He tells her he hates to dance as he spins her into his arms. She laughs. He always says that. Always pretends that he is making some big sacrifice to show how much he loves her - and she always calls him on it.

Enzo's eyes sparkle with mischief and his fingers slide down her spine. She shivers, tilting her head so she can properly look at him. She only sees him, everything else is a muted blur of colors and mindless shapes. She can hear the music, low and pulsing. They fit together perfectly, moving with little care to the outside world.

However, there are dark edges and they inch closer with every beat. Bonnie feels them first and when she shivers again there is nothing romantic about it. Her head turns, resting against his chest where she can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. Finally she asks him what she should have before he pulled her into the dance. "Where were you?"

Enzo stills for a moment, his fingers tightening until they dig into her skin. She can't stop herself from returning the favor, gripping him as if she is afraid he will slip away right before her eyes.

(he just might)

Finally, he lowers his head, his breath tickling against the shell of her ear. "You can't keep doing this, Bonnie, love."

Suddenly, the rest of the world floods in so quickly that she is knocked off her feet

X

Klaus is the one who lifts her from the dirt.

It has quickly become evident that she is not going to wake. He has shaken her lightly, called her name before resorting to jerking her body by her arm so she flops on her back. Her eyes remain closed.

So he places an arm under her knees, uses the other to support her head and stands. The first thing he notes is how light she is. She has always been a slip of a thing, a deception considering he has always viewed her as a ball of coiled energy just waiting to explode. Now what she lacks is more noticeable. She is nothing in his arms.

(a far cry from the warrior who had cut into him so deeply she had nearly finished him off)

He looks up to Moreau and his fellow wolf. They stand opposite him, watching the whole scene with trepidation. He wonders if they are questioning themselves (maybe they feel as if they have just fed Goldilocks directly to the bear). He does not feel the need to correct any assumptions they may have. But he can't just leave them thinking he is ungrateful. "Your loyalty today will be remembered." It is as close to an I owe you as he is going to say. Keeping the Crescent Wolves on his side is crucial should any threat become overwhelming. He does his part; Hayley takes care of the rest.

Moreau just nods and before anything else can be said, both wolves disappear into the thick brush.

"Talkative fellow," Klaus deadpans. His eyes fall to Bonnie once more. In the dim light of morning it strikes him that she looks dead. Her body is rigid and her face is twisted in a grimace. If it weren't for that heartbeat (loud, persistent) he would assume that the spirits had taken her.

Then he wonders just what he is going to do with her.

He had been too overwhelmed by the idea that she had been facedown on the ground in his territory to actually think it through. The questions come hard and fast, representing the usual thought process in a situation like this: how did she come to be here? And in such a state? More importantly, why is she here?

Klaus stands, almost awkwardly, over the remnants of her makeshift bed. For a moment, he is filled with the idea of unceremoniously dumping her right back where he had found her. She is clearly in no position to pose a threat to him (or anyone at all for that matter). He can leave the bayou (and her) and be home before Hope rises. They can have beignets for breakfast while Hayley throws her hands up in protest.

He almost does it. He almost leaves that part of his past behind him.

Instead he walks back the way he came, better able to follow the scent of the man who had led him there in the first place. As he steps over fallen branches, he contemplates the prison he will build for her. In the past she has found loopholes, she wiggled free from the fate he has set for her - not now. He will have victory over Bonnie Bennett (long overdue as it is).

She moves slightly just as he relishes the idea. It distracts him long enough for that feeling to crash to his feet. Whatever triumph he has felt is gone as quickly as it has come. She is broken; he doesn't need to hear how to know that it is true. Locking her away will not change a thing - how can he rip the floor out from under her when she clearly has been free falling for some time now? This is not the way he wants to say he has won over her.

In the end, he takes her to the Abattoir.

Freya is waiting, dressed by now. She gives him a questioning look which he pointedly ignores. He won't explain his line of thinking to her at this moment. Instead he climbs the stairs to Rebekah's room. He deposits Bonnie on the bed, sending up a cloud of dust that speaks to the years of disuse the room has seen. For a moment, he watches her, the rise and fall of her chest barely noticeable (it is much easier to listen to her heart).

Then he curses himself and grabs a blanket to cover her with.

X

The moon's pull is especially strong tonight.

Bonnie lets it wash over her, throwing her head back so her face is tilted towards it. She breathes deep, taking in the waves of energy that have filled the space. It flows through her, moving down her arms until it fills her finger tips.

She is not the only one drinking it in. Beside her stand two other women, their postures very much the same as Bonnie. She sneaks a peak, noting the way Sasha seems to sway, her hips jutting side to side in an almost hypnotic way. There is a euphoric smile on her face.

(she wonders if she has ever looked like that)

Before long her entire body hums with untapped potential. She is giddy at the prospects before her and nearly sets the nearest thing on fire just because she can. However, she is more restrained than that. She is far from a novice. She looks at Sasha andEve and they all break into laughter at the same time.

A sharp clap feels like the equivalent of a bucket of cold water being dumped on their heads.

Bonnie turns to look at the woman standing behind them. Most would overlook her - she has a plain face with a small mouth and mousy brown hair that lays flat against her shoulders. At one time in her life, Lavinia Creed could probably have slipped through any crowd without a set of eyes falling on her.

But now - now, no one would dare look away.

Lavinia lets her hands fall, smiling at three witches before her. "I can practically see the magic rolling off you in waves. You are the most beautiful things I have ever seen."

Bonnie feels herself stand a little taller. This is what she had missed in Mystic Falls. The company of other witches - the bond that could come when you stood hand and hand with someone who shared your gift. She hadn't left the town in search of it; it had found her instead and she feels very grateful for that fact.

Lavinia turns on her heels, a swath of cloth moving with her. She is looking down from the hill, towards the lights of a small town. Even though it will take them at least fifteen minutes to navigate the rocky path, Bonnie swears she can already hear the murmurs of tourists enjoying themselves on cafe patios (she can even hear the sea beyond them, lapping at the golden sand in constant succession).

"Let's go have some fun."

She grins, already looking forward to the music, the drink and the chance to take what is inside of her and show it to the rest of the world.

X

It is midday and Bonnie still has not moved. She is in the exact same position he left in her. He tries in vain to rouse her once more but he may as well turn and talk to the wall.

Freya tells him that Bonnie is likely doing some kind of reset. If she has performed a practically taxing spell in recent days, she will need time to recover. "It's a witch thing," Freya says, with a soft smile. Her eyes run over the sleeping form in her sister's bed once more. "If she doesn't wake by tomorrow morning, I'll try something."

Klaus does not leave with Freya. Instead he stands there, letting the implication of Freya's words sink in. A taxing spell - so near New Orleans (near him). He tilts his head a little, noting a leaf tangled in her curls. Unable to stop himself, he wrestles it free and lets it fall to the floor. She hardly looks like a Trojan Horse.

(but hasn't he already learned the hard way never to underestimate her?)

X

Klaus finds Elijah seated at the table.

In front of him is a worn (well cared for) notebook and he has a pen in his hands. Klaus sinks down into the chair opposite his brother, his eyes drawn to the familiar loops and dots of handwriting on the page. He sees more than that of course; he sees a bright smile, shining eyes - he sees a faith in him that rarely wavered.

He finds himself tracing the grains in the wood of the table instead.

Elijah is silent for a moment and then he carefully casts the notebook aside. Klaus is drawn in by the movement and he meets his brother's eyes. Elijah takes that as his cute to speak. "I had not realized that we were in the business of taking in wayward witches."

(ah, there it is)

Klaus has been waiting for this conversation since the early hours of the day. Elijah is no fool. He may have still been asleep when Bonnie entered his home, but he knows. The fact that he has waited this long to question Klaus about it is surely a testament to his patience.

"Bit off brand isn't it? She's not a Petrova Doppelganger." He shouldn't say such things. The way Elijah briefly clenches his fist tells him so. He breathes deeply through his nose before he tries again. "You needn't worry, Elijah. She's incapacitated."

"For the moment," Elijah finishes.

"And when she isn't, I will get to the bottom of why she was communing with nature in the Bayou," Klaus promises.

Elijah leans back in his chair, his head tilted in such a manner that Klaus can tell that his brother is taking him apart piece by piece in hopes of discovering his motivation. "And you think it wise to have her here? There are other places with our name on it."

"Keep your enemies close," Klaus retorts.

"Under the same roof as your daughter?" Elijah shoots back, his tone casual but his eyes hardened.

(actually: ah, there it is)

It is Klaus' turn to tense and he does so by clenching his jaw so tightly it is a wonder he doesn't snap something. The implication that he would knowingly put his daughter in harm's way is one that constantly floats over his head but few are foolish enough to say it aloud. It is akin to walking up to a pile of explosives and ever so casually tossing a lit match on top.

He lurches forward as he speaks, only held back by some invisible familial chain (or perhaps because of the truth in Elijah's accusation). "How dare you think that I would let any harm come to Hope? I will protect her with everything I have…"

Elijah reaches for the notebook, pulling it back into focus. It is tilted this time, giving Klaus a better view of the words that lie on its pages. He has done this on purpose, Klaus knows. He is trying to douse the fire he has set.

And it works.

His eyes follow the handwriting slowly, feeling the heat drain out of him. He forces his mouth into a thin line. "How many are left to find?"

Elijah glances down. "Well, now that we have the box," he begins and his pen makes a neat check (Klaus nearly rips the notebook free, feeling as if his brother has sullied it somehow). "That leaves just over a dozen. It is probably wise to categorize what is left - go after what poses the greatest threat."

"Agreed."

For a moment, they almost sound like proper brothers once more.

X

There is no peaceful transition in from sleep to waking for her.

Bonnie's eyes simply snap open.

For a moment her mind is so muddled (dancing, the moon, Enzo, Lavinia) that she doesn't even realize that she is not where she should be. Or at least, not where she had left herself. She breathes deep trying not to let the dreams (memories) pull her in too many directions at once. Her eyes focus on the dark ceiling above.

The dark ceiling above.

Her body jerks before she sits up. Her eyes move across the room - antique furniture (the kind that probably had hung out with queens in their day), feminine clothing strewn about, a picture sitting on its side.

Bonnie moves toward it, figuring it is her best clue. Her fingers close around the silver frame and she turns it toward her. It is an inviting image to the uninitiated: a woman laughing, her arm around a man. For most it invokes pure happiness, love.

She sends it tumbling towards the floor, reacting as if she has just touched a hot element on the stove.

She is not most. She knows those faces. Rebekah Mikaelson. Kol Mikaelson.

Her heart begins to beat double time as her eyes slide towards the closed door. She had taken a chance coming anywhere near New Orleans, she knows this. Foolishly she had convinced herself that the Mikaelson family will be too wrapped up in their own set of problems to notice hers.

She moves carefully, going to the balls of her feet in hopes of keeping the noise to a minimum. Her hand falls on the doorknob and there is a spell on the tip of her tongue. She can weave it around the simple piece of brass and keep this room to herself until she figures something else out. However, she holds back. She has to be careful (she has given them enough clues in the past few weeks).

But she knows she can't stay here.

Bonnie glances around the room once more, seeing everything in a new light. The clothes, the furniture, the colors on the wall - all of it speaks to the psychotic femininity of Rebekah. She ignores it all in favor of the soft brightness streaming in the window.

The window!

She is quick to throw back the latch and push the window panes apart. She gets her first look at the city of New Orleans and it is everything she has assumed it would be (tourists milling about in drunken hoards, the hint of jazz wafting down the street). She also gets her first look at the rather impressive drop to the ground below.

Hardly ideal but she can work with it. Maybe if she ties the sheets of the bed together. Oh, there could be a trellis. Aren't there always trellises conveniently placed when the heroine needs a quick get away? She looks both ways, sees nothing but stone.

(she can jump; it will hurt, it may kill her - but isn't she headed towards that anyway?)

She doesn't even realize that she has thrown a leg over the window ledge. Doesn't realize it until the door swings open to reveal Klaus Mikaelson. She recoils immediately at the sight of him, sending her body off balance just enough.

Before she could stop herself, she tumbles backwards.