Author's Note: Thank you for your continued support! As promised, here is my latest Saturday installment!

Part Four: how many lifetimes

As it turns out, Hope needs a very special kind of help.

She has her floor covered in pieces of paper. Klaus picks one up - a drawing of a face that is only half finished. A quick survey of the rest reveals that most are in the same state.

He feels Hope's small hand curl around a part of his. It always surprises him how much warmth can come from such a tiny creature. He forgets the anger that had just threatened to consume him entirely and instead finds himself crouching down in front of her.

"Are you still having trouble with the eyes?" he asks.

Hope turns to look at her easel. Another face, only one that can't stare back at them because it is missing a crucial part of its anatomy. She sighs and nods. "I can't do it like you do," she says and he can hear a hint of frustration in her voice.

He settles beside her, picking up the thick black crayon. "Watch carefully," he instructs. He gives himself over to the task and soon enough one eye is formed. "Just take your time." He extends the crayon towards her.

Hope is tentative, the crayon hovering over the paper. He sometimes wishes that she could be more carefree. A child her age should be covering the page with wild abandonment, not caring whether or not things are balanced. But Hope has always been wise, almost an old soul trapped in a child's body. After she makes the first swipe, she growls. The sound brings a smile to his face despite not wanting to see her in distress.

"Here," he says, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. "We'll do it together." He guides her hand so that both eyes match the best they can. Then he concedes control of the crayon back to her, knowing that she will finish the rest.

She is sketching long hair, just like her mother's in fact, when she speaks again. "Who was that lady you were talking to?"

It hasn't occurred to him that Hope might have witnessed any part of his conversation with Bonnie (but it should have; Elijah's words play in his mind). He stares at his brilliant girl, wondering just what to say. In the end, he keeps it simple. "She is someone I knew in another lifetime."

Hope appears to consider this. Then she looks at Klaus. "How many lifetimes have you had?"

He laughs. "More than I can count," he admits.

Hope steps back from her work, her head tilted just so. This one does not end up on the floor. Instead she places it on her bedside table. No doubt it will be a gift for her mother when she comes to tuck her in. She turns back. "Will you tell me about one of them?"

This is always such an intricate dance for him. He does not want to lie to Hope (nor deny her anything) but there are so many moments in his life that he needs to shield her from. He nods his head, reaching out to pick her up. He moves until he can seat himself on her bed. She tucks herself against his side and he tells her how he once met a real princess (she had a crown and everything).

Hayley finds them like that. Hope scrambles over her father, kneeing him in the stomach in the process, to present her drawing to her mother. It will no doubt hang in a place of honor in Hayley's room. For now, it is carefully placed back on the bedside table so Hayley can take Hope into her arms and get her ready for bed.

Klaus leaves them. There are things that only he and Hope share. But this moment belongs to Hayley and Hope (and has since she was young). He will not intrude. Instead he thinks he will find something strong to drink and reflect on what a strange day it has been.

He finds the courtyard much the way he left it. The food he had offered Bonnie still sits, half eaten, on the table. Her glass is tucked in the corner of the chair she had sat in. Yet all of that feels so very far away now.

Freya finds him picking over the grapes. She surveys the space. "Honestly, I thought I would come home to destruction," she admits. "She is a Bennett witch, isn't she?"

Klaus slowly nods as he cuts a grape in half with his teeth.

"Not something to be trifled with," Freya says and she sounds almost appreciative. "What did she tell you?"

"Nothing worth my time," Klaus answers (but that is not quite true, now is it?). He finds himself moving the table back to its rightful place. "Oh, and your clothes are lost, I am afraid." Freya has a look on her face that tells him she will delight in replacing them. "Bonnie is smart - she is no doubt far away from the city by now."

Only she isn't.

He doesn't realize this until an hour later, when he is sitting quietly with a bottle of bourbon squarely in front of him. An outsider may say he is contemplative (almost peaceful) but his family knows what really runs through his mind in moments like this. They know to give him a wide berth.

He doesn't even notice her at first. So caught up in his memories (and the pain that snares him). However, an almost cloying mixture of lavender and green tea wafts in his direction. It pulls him free from the hell he has been circling but still, when he sees Bonnie standing there he is not grateful.

There is a brief moment of confusion. Then his quieted temper seems willing to pick right back up where they left off. He stands, body tense and ready to move in the blink of an eye.

Her tongue darts out nervously to swipe across her bottom lip.

(those cracks - they seem to be widening with no assistance from him at all)

She appears to be caught between wanting to come closer and wanting to retreat. In the end, she takes a deep breath and steps forward.

"I need your help."

X

Bonnie has talked herself in circles since coming to her conclusion.

Approaching Klaus is a foolish idea. She may as well wander deep into the swamps and start swatting at gators with sticks. It is the same idea in principle. She had only walked out of that place because he had been distracted. Now here she is seriously considering walking right back in. She is losing what is left of her mind.

(or desperate; it is quite clear that she is desperate)

On the other hand, Lavinia is coming. Bonnie has no idea where she is at this moment but New Orleans is going to be her next destination. Sure, Bonnie can try to put as much distance between the two of them as possible but that's what she has been doing for months now. She has criss crossed this country (and an ocean, don't forget she has crossed an ocean) in an attempt to be three steps ahead but she is losing ground. And she's tired; the kind of tired that consumes just about every part of you.

She needs to stand and fight. She has always done so. She has never cowered from anything.

The fact that she is doing so now is a blow to her pride.

When she was a teenager, Bonnie had no problem walking up to the biggest, baddest thing (Klaus) with little thought to what would happen next. She is not a teenager anymore. She knows her faults, her weaknesses. She knows when she is not enough (and oh, how she hates that). Worse, she has tasted death. More than once. Despite everything, despite those moments when she questions herself, she does not want to do it again.

She reasons that speaking with him is not even out of character - she is doing whatever is necessary to ensure the desired outcome (she has always done whatever was necessary; even if it included throwing herself onto the fire).

Bonnie has to be prepared. Klaus can say no. That is the simplest answer. If so, she will drop him to the floor (she has already used magic tonight, what else has she got to lose) before getting the hell out of New Orleans. Or he can say yes. Not as simple, as she knows better than take him at face value. But still, it is not as complicated as him wanting to bargain. She has to be ready for that possibility.

Without realizing it, Bonnie has walked a rather large circle around the French Quarter and would up just where she started. She stands in front of the Abattoir, taking in the stylized M. There is a spot of rust on it - a blatant reminder that this family has history here. She is willing to bet that most of it is bloody and awful.

Yet she walks in the front door.

Klaus is practically right where she left him. Only now he looks small on the sofa and instead of food there is a bottle of alcohol on the table in front of him. He's staring into it like it is going to wither under his gaze and start giving up all its secrets.

She stays close to the entrance. Her hand comes to absentmindedly rub against her hip. The blazing pain that had brought her to her knees has dulled to a never ending ache (a reminder of what is coming). She needs to do this.

Bonnie watches him instead.

She realizes soon enough that he's not even looking at the bottle. He's not looking at anything at all. He's caught in something and it's pulling him in deep. The pain is evident on his face that her mouth falls open slightly. She knows this pain. She knows it well.

He stirs back to life, his head turning so that his eyes are on her now. She feels pinned in place. Her nerves flare and she almost turns to run.

In the end, she does what she came here for.

Her gaze is solely on him, knowing she can't take the words back now. He looks like a true predator, muscles clenched as if he is ready to spring forward (maybe he will). She squares her shoulders. This might not be the fight she is preparing for but this may as well be good practice.

He moves closer, his eyes narrowed. She expects that they will be a bright yellow in a moment or two. She is not backing down on this one. She is not blinking (she has had to do that too much).

Then suddenly, he stops, throws his head back and laughs.

Bonnie does not relax. In fact, the sound of his laughter echoing in the space around her only makes her want to take the feet right out from underneath him.

Finally, he stops, a hand against his chest. His eyes are no longer dead, but instead seem to swim with amusement. "What game are you playing now, little witch?"

"My life is not a game," she blurts, her anger and fear bubbling up all at once. She takes a breath, knowing well she has tipped her hand far too early. Her eyes move along the floor, up the wall - anywhere but right in front of her. She does not want to see him amused at the thought of her impending death. When the silence drags on far longer than it should, Bonnie finally concedes.

There is no amusement on his face. He has his brows pressed together and his mouth set in a thin line. "I can honestly say that I was not expecting that," he muses aloud. "Although I should have - what other dire circumstances could force you into coming to plead at my feet?"

"I am not groveling," she tells him and raises her chin for good measure. Perhaps it is too much; perhaps she should be willing to bargain away what is left of her pride. It will work out in her favor in the long run after all.

One corner of his mouth turns up. "No. I suppose you wouldn't. That is not your style. I, on the other hand, am fond of it. In others, of course. You wouldn't be the first. Nor would you be the last. Just another face in a long line of people who come to curry favors."

Bonnie finds that her mouth is dry. She realizes, despite everything, this is the most vulnerable she has been in a long time. She has taken a huge risk coming here and she has exposed herself almost completely in the process. There has always been a power dynamic between them and right now she has tipped the scales overwhelmingly in his favor. She loathes the feeling that realization brings.

"I know you won't just help me out of the goodness of your heart," she tells him, keeping her voice even. "Because - what heart?" There is a flick of his eyebrows but he does not say anything. "I've come here, knowing full well that I am asking something of you and that will come with a price. I am prepared to negotiate, Klaus."

Klaus remains quiet, unmoving. Finally, he takes a deep breath, his chest swelling up with the smugness he is no doubt holding tight to. "Tell me everything first. Then we'll talk about logistics."

Bonnie grits her teeth. This is not the order she wishes to do things. He already has the high ground. He is now asking her to cut herself open so he can get a good look inside. Then, and only then will he decide whether or not, she's worth the effort.

(but, maybe this is the first step in bargaining)

She swallows back her revulsion.

"Have you ever heard of kirarik?"

X

The first time she ever lays on Lavinia Creed she is in Bucharest.

Bonnie has never stopped wandering. She likes to think that she is taking full advantage of her freedom - circling the globe many times over is her reward for everything she has been through (everything she has lost). But deep down she knows that is not quite true. She wanders because she is looking for something.

And as she watches Lavinia effortlessly perform a spell in front of a group of onlookers (their faces filled with a measure of awe and fear), she thinks she may have found it.

X

Despite the rest, the shower, the clean clothes, the food (all of which was enjoyed underneath his roof mind you), Bonnie looks drained at this moment.

He could offer her a seat. He could even offer her a drink; her nerves might benefit from something strong burning in her stomach. However, he does neither - because he does not have to. She needs something from him, not the other way around.

He is not above lording his advantage over her.

She stands awkwardly, one hand running up an arm. He wonders how badly she wishes the ground would open up and pull her down. He almost smiles (almost because she still has a bit of pride in her; if he pushes it too far she might throw away her chance to teach him some kind of lesson).

Kirarik, he learns, is a type of magic.

"One of the benefits of leaving Mystic Falls was the realization of just how small it is," she tells him. "For years, I battled what I thought was the end of the world and while I am not downplaying anything that happened, I quickly learned that there is so much out there."

He hasn't truly thought about Mystic Falls in years. Every now and then, he gets a passing fancy, an almost wistful feeling for the life he had once lived there a thousand years ago. But then he chides himself - because there is nothing in that life that is worthy of such a feeling. Mikael made sure of that.

But modern day Mystic Falls (and its residences, both friend and foe) haven't been a part of his thought process for a while.

Perhaps it should have been. If he had not had his own monsters to fight in New Orleans then maybe he could have kept a better track of those worth keeping track of. Her included. If he had done so, her appearance in the Bayou might not have been such a surprise.

"I saw things I never thought I would have the chance to see," she continues and for a moment he sees a wistful look of her own. "And I learned more about magic than I ever could have in Mystic Falls."

That much is true. In that town, she had often been the only one, isolated from those whose wisdom could have helped her development. She had always had more raw power than she knew what to do with and no hand to guide her.

(at one point in his life, he had fantasized about being that hand)

"I got to dabble. Test things out and see how they felt - spirit magic, blood magic, kemiya…" Bonnie lists and he has a feeling there are many others. Freed from the restraints placed on her by her friends, he thinks she would go a bit wild. "Each had a different purpose, a different effect. I didn't quite take to any of them."

"But kirarik became your answer?" Klaus fills in the blank.

Her body tenses and any joy fades from her face. "I thought so. It was not like anything I had ever experienced. A true connection with nature - like tapping into the elements directly and using them for whatever you desired."

Klaus can already see the folly of what she describes. He may never have properly practiced but as a young boy, before things broke in too many pieces, he had been attached to his mother's hip. He had watched as she created simple spells and she had indulged his curiosity, explaining the process to him step by step. He has forgotten much of that, a purposeful wiping of Esther from his mind.

But one thing stands out: all magic comes with a price.

She should already know this lesson. After all, she had been willing to trade her life to hold onto the power of a hundred witches long enough to kill him. He tilts his head a little, wondering if she had simply forgotten or if she had overlooked its price in exchange for its reward.

"You practiced with others, forming your own circle. This made sure that all the elements were represented if need be. I was brought into a circle by a witch named Lavinia Creed. She was well versed in kirarik and eager to teach others. I caught on fast." There is pride in her words. "And I enjoyed everything it gave me. I should have known…"

The price.

Bonnie's eyes on the floor once more. "I guess it's like a drug. For a while you are so caught up in it and what you can do. Of course, there is euphoria - just like any magic. It is so intense, maybe you get blinded to the reality of it all."

She is struggling now. Klaus knows she would rather fall quiet. Rather leave the story at just that. However, he is not as kind. Instead he is intrusive, both wanting knowledge and if he is being honest, her discomfort. His silence is simply an unspoken instruction for her to continue.

"You bond yourself to your circle. Quite literally." Her hand brushes consciously over her hip and his eyes follow the movement. "At first, I was led to believe that this allowed me to draw strength from my fellow witches but in the end, I learned that it allowed Lavinia to draw from me. Kirarik is a form of a sacrificial magic, disguised as something else. And the reason why Lavinia is so good at it is because she has had many lifetimes to practice."

Klaus gets it immediately. "Which she takes from her disciples."

Bonnie nods her head in a jerking motion. "That bond is just a one way street. She takes from me, using everything I am to become even stronger. Then when I am nothing more than a shell, she finds another to replace me."

"Clever strategy," Klaus says and there must be enough reverence in his tone for her reaction. She narrows her eyes and clenches her fists at her side. But to her credit, she does not lash out at him (she really is desperate). He stands there, reflecting on what she has told him. One thing stands out. "Despite your faults, I always thought you were far too clever to fall into something like this. How on earth did you walk into something so blindly?"

Her answer plays across her face. Anger is replaced by pain and at first he thinks his callous words are the cause. But then he takes it in, sees how it threatens to cripple her and knows that this something far beyond what he could do to her.

She doesn't answer. At least not properly. "Everyone, including the big bad hybrid, makes mistakes."

He is not happy with that answer but strangely enough he doesn't push (maybe because he understands the pain he saw all too well). "What do you think I can do for you?"

"She's coming for me," Bonnie says simply. "I've tried my best to stay ahead of her but she's closing the distance. I've seen what happens to people when she's done with them. I won't...I won't become that. So I need something bigger than her to help me fight back." She gives him a look, as if she is sizing him up. "You're the biggest."

Klaus hums appreciatively. "You want me to kill a witch."

Bonnie nods.

"It won't come cheap," he says.

"I didn't figure you were running a charity." she retorts.

He smiles at the hint of fire in her voice. He extends a hand towards the furniture and the bottle of alcohol that waits there.

"Shall we talk specifics?"