The Colors

Julien walked out of the hotel bedroom after dressing for the day, her eyes scanning the main living area for her little brother. A frown appeared on her face when she saw that he wasn't there, or in the kitchenette. "Elijah?"

The sound of the door being opened caused her to turn on her heel. Surprise flickered on Elijah's features when he saw Julien waiting for him, but it was quickly replaced by a neutral expression. "You're up early," he greeted casually, closing the door behind himself. "I wouldn't have left if I had known you would be up."

That was a lie, of course. He'd had business to attend to involving Rose and her friend Slater. Damon Salvatore's involvement hadn't been anticipated, but unsurprising nonetheless. Still, he was intent on keeping Julien out of the loop regarding the doppelganger for as long as he could manage. If a few white lies had to weigh on his increasingly guilty conscience to do so, it was a burden he would gladly bear.

Julien nodded, leaning so that her lower back rested against the kitchenette's island counter. "It is a bit early. Where did you go?"

Ah. There it was. "Personal matters," he attempted to brush off with a grin, moving around her to reach the refrigerator. Opening the door, he produced one of many blood bags and held it out in offering. "Hungry?"

"No." Julien's cheek twitched with agitation, her fingers weaving themselves into her shirt as she tilted her head curiously. "What are you hiding from me, Elijah?"

"Nothing, dear sister."

"You're lying."

A small crack formed in Elijah's heart at the frown on Julien's face – just another for the collection. "Never," he assured her, abandoning the cold blood bag on the counter to instead place his hands on Julien's shoulders. "I have never once lied to you, 'Lien, and I don't intend to start now."

Elijah measured his breaths as evenly as possible as her eyes examined his. It was true that he had never lied to her before. He hated for this to be the first time, but he was convinced that it was the only way to protect her. She had protected him for so long, sacrificed more than most could even imagine. It was time for him to return the favor.

Julien didn't buy it for a second.

She had been deceived too many times in her long life. She'd had to learn the hard way how to tell when people didn't intend to share the truth. There were a few obvious signs, but even more skilled liars were easy to detect if she looked for one specific thing – utter calm. Even when people told the truth they were nervous, for fear of not being believed. Only those confident in their lies did not fear being found out.

Just as it hurt Elijah to lie, it hurt Julien to see that he had done so. A small, uneasy smile settled on her lips as she cupped his cheek. "I trust you, my precious little Eli. Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do," he answered without hesitation, his fingers squeezing her shoulders as all traces of deceit abandoned his features. "More than anything or anyone. You must never doubt that."

"Then why do you refuse to tell me who you've been meeting with these past few days?"

Elijah's lips parted as if to answer… but the words stuck in his throat. He ground his teeth as his jaw ticked in frustration – frustration with himself at not having thought to prepare a story ahead of time, frustration for having to lie in the first place, frustration with Niklaus for putting him in this position.

"I'm sorry," he finally said with a near silent sigh, his hands sliding from her shoulders as he took a step back. At the flicker of hurt in her eyes, he hurried to make amends. "I promise to explain everything, soon. I just need a little more time to make sure everything is in order."

But Julien had already turned her back to him, nodding absentmindedly as she returned to her bedroom. The door closed with an audible click behind her, and Elijah growled to himself. Damn Niklaus for making him hurt her like this. If anything, it was only another reason he deserved to die. Though Elijah took no great pleasure in the thought of killing his own brother, it helped to imagine that he had done yet another injustice to his family.

Elijah contemplated following after Julien to offer what little comfort he could, but before he had the chance to decide whether or not that was a good idea his phone rang in his pocket. Seeing as it could only be one person, he didn't bother to glance at the name displayed on the screen before answering. "You have what you need?"

"We can begin the spell as soon as you arrive."

"Fantastic. Make sure everything is set up before I arrive," he instructed, making his way to the front door he had just entered through mere minutes ago. "I'm on a bit of a schedule, and don't have time for any distractions."

"You'll have the girl soon enough."

"You should hope so."

Elijah ended the call without a goodbye, slipping it back into his pocket as the door to his and Julien's hotel room closed. He didn't want to leave without resolving their issues, but finding Elena was possibly the only resolution he would be able to get. If he could simply ensure her safety before the night of the ritual, he could spend the remainder of his time convincing Julien that his side was the right one. He was already going to lose a brother. He refused to lose her as well.

Back in the hotel room, Julien stood with her back pressed firmly against her bedroom door, confusion and anger both clear in her features. Confusion as to who Elijah had been speaking with and what girl he wanted so desperately to find. Anger as to the fact that she had just received all the proof she needed to confirm that he was lying to her.

A small part of Julien compelled her to run to her bed, collapse into the mountain of pillows and thick comforters, and wallow over the fact that her sibling was keeping her at arm's length.

A very, very small part.

That childish whim was quickly squashed by Julien's rationale, which begged her to pry open the bedroom door and march right out of this hotel. If Elijah wasn't going to tell her what he was up to, she would simply have to deduce it for herself. That, of course, meant following him.

She wasn't an especially good tracker, nor did she have the faintest idea where Elijah was headed, but Julien was nothing if not determined. Besides, being a thousand-year-old vampire had to be good for something, right?

Elijah's long legs suited him for walking at a much quicker pace, but Julien had the gift of not growing tired as she hurried to keep up with him. Through a series of twists and turns, never-ending sidewalks, street corners and neighborhood strolls, she had just barely managed to keep up with her brother. He had made a short stop at a smaller house on the way, but Elijah had only been inside for a few minutes before continuing his journey out of town.

Which had led them here, to the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia where a large house with thick windows hid her brother's secret. Though Julien had no idea who it belonged to or why Elijah had come here so quickly, she knew that he had gone inside. That was enough to lead her to the front door, which she thought would pose a greater threat than it did.

After pushing the door open, Julien tested the entrance by moving her hand through the doorway. When she felt no invisible barrier that came with the need to be invited, she felt conflicted. While this meant that she could enter, it also meant no living residents occupied the space. Elijah was meeting with another vampire, then? Curious.

Normally Julien would have taken the time to appreciate the fine architecture of the home – the way the wood bent unnaturally to the owner's wishes, metal chandeliers holding lights that required no flame – as modern times had never ceased to amaze her, just as new inventions had astounded her in the past. She had no time to marvel at the beauty of the place, however, with much more pressing matters clouding her mind.

That didn't stop her hand from trailing along the ornate wall decorations as she tip-toed her way down the main hallway. She could hear voices in one of the rooms up ahead, but wasn't quite close enough yet to understand what they were saying.

Julien's eyes closed in concentration, her feet pausing as she tilted her ears in the direction of the voices in an attempt to get a better idea of what was happening.

Her presence had clearly not been anticipated, if the woman who came sprinting down the hallway only to crash directly into her was any indication. Julien instinctively caught the woman who had knocked her a few steps back, her fingers closing around her arms like steel traps. The woman's eyes widened in fear at the same time that a mischievous grin grew on Julien's face, both recognizing the other simultaneously.

"Hello, Rose-Marie," Julien greeted, her voice barely above a whisper. She wouldn't want to announce her arrival preemptively, after all. "My, but it has been some time… Nearly 500 years, in fact."

Rose offered no answer other than her constant fearful shaking. Though Julien was known among vampires to be the least cruel of the Mikaelson siblings without a purpose, those who had slighted her family were never heard from again.

Julien had long since abandoned her quarrels with the poor woman, however. As Elijah had spared her life the other night, Julien would do the same now. Of course, she didn't need to know that just yet. "Who else is in this house?"

"I don't – "

"Shh," Julien warned, moving one hand to press a finger to her lips with a single eyebrow raised. "Quietly, if you please."

"I didn't know what she was planning when she asked me to bring her here, I swear."

"You didn't know what who was planning, darling?"

Rose's eyebrows twitched in confusion as she answered. "The doppelganger."

Julien's smile disappeared instantaneously, replaced by a much harsher expression as her grip on the terrified vampire increased tenfold. "I am going to ask you one more time who is in this house," she said, her voice low and threatening. "And might I remind you that anything less than the absolute truth will not end well for you."

"I'm not lying," Rose assured the Original, shaking her head frantically. "Elijah is with her… Did you two not come together?" The thought crossed her mind that if Julien hadn't come to find the doppelganger with Elijah, her much deadlier brother was the only other option. "Did Klaus send you?"

Julien ignored both questions, releasing her hold on the woman. "I suggest you run very far, very quickly."

Rose didn't need to be told twice. Before Julien could even finish her warning, she had run from the house at full vampiric speed. Julien remained firmly in place, her unfocused eyes set on the closed set of doors in front of her as her teeth clamped down painfully on the inside of her cheek. It seemed Elijah was hiding a much bigger secret from her than she originally thought.

The whim to make a dramatic entrance crossed her mind, but just as nearly all her whims were, it was quickly forgotten. Instead, Julien turned sharply on her heel and swept out of the house. She needed time to contemplate the implications this discovery held for her family, without anyone else offering their own dim-witted opinions. She needed to be alone.

Elijah didn't return to the hotel until much later that night. After dealing with Elena's suicidal tendencies, he'd gone back to Jonas and Luka to discuss their next move. It had taken much longer than he had anticipated, meaning he wouldn't have as much time as he'd hoped to speak with Julien when he finally returned.

"'Lien?" he called as he entered the living room, quickly scanning the room only to find that she was nowhere in sight. He turned then to her bedroom, knocking quietly on the door. There was no response. Regardless, he twisted the knob and pushed it gently open, peeking into the dark room.

Julien's back was turned to him, the plush white comforter pulled up to her chin rising slowly and evenly. The sight of her peaceful sleep brought the first genuine smile to his lips that day, despite the fact that he would have to wait until tomorrow to speak with her.

"Goodnight, Julien," he mumbled, closing the door silently behind himself as he left her to sleep.

What Elijah had failed to see with her back turned was Julien staring blankly into the night, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She loved her brother more than life itself, truly. She had never done anything that might lead him to doubt her. And yet he had betrayed her trust – lying while he insisted that he told only truth, and conspiring against their family behind her back as if she were some blind fool.

In the morning he would need to be dealt with, but for tonight she would simply pull her knees to her chest and wonder when she had lost Elijah's trust.

"Another early start? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?"

Elijah stopped halfway to the kitchen when Julien ignored his teasing. He had seen her sitting on the couch facing away from the kitchen when he left his bedroom, a mug of steaming coffee held between her hands and a thoughtful look on her face. He had thought she was simply tired, but when she didn't respond to him, a new thought formed in his head. "'Lien?"

"You lied to me."

Elijah sighed when she spoke, abandoning his previous journey towards the kitchen in favor of sitting in the chair opposite Julien. Her fingers had tightened around the mug, her eyes focused on the table that separated them. "We went over this yesterday. I have never – "

"You had never," she corrected, her tone harsh and reprimanding. "You had never lied to me."

"And I still haven't," he insisted.

"The doppelganger."

Elijah could have sworn that in that moment his heart ceased to beat, his chest constricting painfully. She knew. He didn't know how she knew, but he could tell from the way she had said the word that she wasn't guessing or implying, she knew.

Thick silence clouded over the siblings, both at a loss for words at this revelation. Elijah had lied to Julien. She knew he had lied, and was not happy about it.

"I suppose you never have been one for doing things halfway," Julien finally broke the silence with a rueful laugh. "If you were going to lie to me, it would have to be a big one. No breaking a vase and covering it up or losing the keys and saying it was me. No, you just had to find the single component keeping Niklaus from breaking that wretched curse, and insist it still did not exist!"

Elijah flinched when her voice ended an octave higher than when she had begun the accusation. He hadn't heard her raise her voice in over a century, and now she did it to scold him of all people. What a terrible morning this was turning out to be. Still, he had one big question. "How did you find out?"

Julien stood from her seat with a scoff, setting her mug on the table before moving to stand behind the chair. "If you plan on deceiving your family, I suggest being a bit more subtle about taking incriminating phone calls from those helping you and taking leisurely strolls in broad daylight that would lead me straight to the very girl you wished to hide."

Elijah ran a tired hand down his face. She was right, of course. He shouldn't have been so obvious about his actions if he didn't want her to know. "I never meant to hurt you," he assured her, standing to match her position.

"I don't care what your intentions were – you failed."

"If you would just let me explain – "

"How?" Julien gripped the back of the chair, her jaw set as her knuckles turned white. "How could you possibly explain this in such a way that I might understand, Elijah? What words are there in any language you know that might even begin to explain why you betrayed me – betrayed your family?"

"What family?" Elijah exclaimed, holding his arms out by his sides as if to show that they weren't there. "What family do I have left to betray? Niklaus has taken them all! Finn, Rebekah, Kol – they are our family, Julien. He has taken them away from us, driven daggers into their hearts, locked them in coffins and you expect me to do nothing?"

"I expect you to tell me the truth!"

"You would not have helped me even if I did," Elijah said with a vehement shake of his head.

"Perhaps," Julien allowed with a slow nod, her hands dropping to her side as she retreated backwards. "I suppose we'll never find out."

Elijah followed after his sister as she turned her back on him, striding with determined steps towards the door leading out of their shared room. His anger dissipated in record time when her hand closed around the knob, pulling the door open with enough force to make the hinges groan under the pressure. "Julien, wait!"

Julien bit back a sigh as she paused, her desire to leave the argument warring with her primal instinct to stay with her family. She didn't look back at Elijah, only tilted her head enough to show that she was listening.

"Don't leave," he pleaded, his hand hovering above her shoulder. "I don't want you to be angry with me."

"I'm not angry," she breathed, her voice no louder than a whisper. "I'm disappointed."

Elijah didn't try to stop her again when she left, frozen in place by her words. She had never been disappointed in him before. Niklaus once or twice, Kol a handful of times, but never Elijah.

He found himself wishing then that he had told her of his plans for Niklaus. She would have been angry and upset, of course. She would have yelled at him, and he would have let her. It would have been better than this. He would have embraced it, in fact – the outrage and the indignation, the desolation and the begging him not to go through with it. Anything was better than disappointing Julien.

And yet that was exactly what he had done.

Alaric spiked Jules' drink with wolfsbane while Damon distracted her by calling him the town drunk, explaining that they simply put him in a cab when they grew tired of him. After he the wolfsbane had mixed into the alcohol, Alaric slipped the drink back in front of the woman with a lopsided smile. "Please don't talk about me like I'm not here," he slurred slightly to give the 'town drunk' angle more credit.

"Why are you here?"

Damon smirked when Alaric shot a glare at him, nodding his head to indicate that he would take over from here. Alaric lifted his own drink as a goodbye when Jules thanked him for hers, taking it with him to a booth towards the back of the Grill. Even though it was part of their plan to see if Jules was a werewolf, it still annoyed him when Damon was an asshole.

He sat where he could keep an eye on the conversation, but far enough away where they wouldn't see him if they weren't looking. His part in this masquerade was over, anyway. The only reason he stayed was to keep an eye on Damon and make sure he didn't royally screw things up – which was honestly a very high probability.

Three drinks later, Alaric had grown tired of watching Damon flirt and had turned his attention to the phone in his hands. He hadn't spoken to Jenna all day – not since she confronted him about hiding things from her. He lied, of course. I would never hide anything from you. Vampires, werewolves, witches, doppelgangers… Of course she hadn't believed him. Or answered any of his texts or calls. Or the door, when he had gone to her house to check on her.

He took another drink.

"You're a good friend."

Alaric looked up from his silent phone at the quiet voice. A woman he had never met before stood next to his otherwise empty table, an easy smile on her lips while her eyes surveyed the bar across the room. He followed her gaze to see that she was looking at Damon and Jules. "What makes you say that?"

The woman turned back to him, and he had to remind himself to breathe when he saw her eyes. "Playing wingman for your friend at the bar," she explained in a whisper, bringing one hand up to hide her mouth as if they were sharing a secret. "I know a town drunk when I see one, believe me. You aren't one of them. Oldest trick in the book, that is."

Alaric chuckled with a small shrug. She wasn't exactly right, but it wasn't as if he could correct her. "It wasn't a big deal, really. She's, uh… Not my type."

"Oh?" The woman raised an eyebrow, setting her own drink that she had carried with her to his table down as her smile shifted into a smirk. "And what exactly is your type?"

"My girlfriend."

A sudden laugh burst through the woman's lips, her hand quickly moving to smother it when it turned a few heads in their direction. "I would certainly hope so," she chuckled softly after taking a calming breath. Her piercing eyes scanned Alaric then, her elbows leaning casually onto the table. "What's your name?"

Alaric glanced once more at his phone before setting it face down on the table, offering the woman his hand. "Alaric."

Her smile seemed to brighten as she took his hand, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. "Alaric," she repeated. "It would seem that we have something in common."

"And what would that be?"

"Our names," she explained, taking the seat across from him without waiting for an invitation. He didn't mind. "They're both Viking."

Alaric took another sip from his drink as she spoke, his natural curiosity winning out over logic the longer he spoke with this woman who had come to speak to him for reasons unknown. "Oh yeah? What's your name?"

"Julien."

"That's a pretty name," he said without much forethought. "Do you know a lot about names?"

She nodded silently, the natural smile that never seemed to leave her face firmly in place. "It's a bit of a hobby for me – knowing things that don't have much practical application."

Alaric wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. She seemed content enough to simply sit without speaking, her eyes falling to the fake candle attached to the wall separating them from the next row of tables. Her fingers drifted absentmindedly to the light shaped to look like a flame, slowly drifting as her expression became nostalgic for a reason he would probably never know.

Maybe it was because he was drunk. Maybe it was because something in her eyes looked sad and lost. Maybe it was because he was fighting with Jenna. Maybe it was because he had nothing better to do while he waited for Jules to drink the wolfsbane. He didn't know why, but he did it.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

After her spat with Elijah, Julien had gone wondering through the little town of Mystic Falls that she knew now Elijah had come to in order to find the doppelganger. Seeing as it was early morning, there hadn't been many residents around to observe her angry posture and rigid walking pace. She hadn't known how to get there, but Julien knew exactly where she was going.

The forest.

All her life she had taken solace in the comforts of nature. It made sense when you considered the fact that not only had she been raised around witches, but had been one herself once upon a time. Of course, she had lost all traces of that the night her parents decided the answer to all their problems was turning their children into vampires.

As Julien settled herself against a tree, her fingers digging into the soil she sat on while the sun shone against her closed eyelids, she tried to remember the feeling of magic coursing through her body. It was a distant, faraway feeling – one that hurt to try and conjure only to ultimately be disappointed when she felt nothing but the bloodlust. That had never stopped her from trying, however.

In fact, she had spent the entire day trying. Birds soared above her as woodland creatures scurried above and around her. The townspeople of Mystic Falls carried about their days, working and playing nearby. All while Julien sat, and remembered.

When Julien opened her eyes, she saw that the sun had been replaced by the moon. It wasn't the first time she had done something like this. It was immature and irresponsible, but she didn't feel like berating herself tonight. With the boiling feud between Elijah and Niklaus, she knew that tonight may very well be her last night of freedom before the storm.

If that was true, she was determined to have a good time.

Which was what had led her to the Mystic Grill in the first place. She had been there for at least an hour before Alaric had entered with his friend, drinking her troubles away. When she saw what Alaric did for his friend, a smile had come to her face. Regardless of intentions, he had done a nice thing for a friend.

Julien had always been astounded by kindness. There was so much darkness in this cruel world. Any chance she had to observe a bit of light was welcome. Which was why she had approached him in the first place.

And now she was here. Her quarrel with Elijah had been clouded by the alcohol pumping through her system, and her worries for Niklaus blinded by Alaric's infectious grin.

They spoke of inconsequential things – something Julien had not done in a long time. She told him that she had never been to Mystic Falls, and he told her the best places to visit. He told her that he had never been outside of the United States, and she told him that Paris was lovely this time of year. She told him that she came from a rather large, rather dysfunctional family. He told her that he was an only child. She told him that she had an affinity for architecture. He told her that he was a history major.

Neither Julien nor Alaric could remember the last time either of them had a conversation that didn't revolve around death or the supernatural. In the short time they had been speaking, they both felt as if heavy weights had been lifted from their shoulders.

Until they were interrupted, of course.

"You're a terrible friend."

Alaric sighed at the familiar voice, closing his eyes in irritation. "Thanks, buddy."

"You're welcome," Damon replied sarcastically. "While you were busy getting your flirt on, Jules left after not-so-subtly warning me about… you-know-what," he finished cryptically, glancing at Julien out of the corner of his eye.

"No, no, I'm not – we're not – there was no flirting," Alaric stuttered, gesturing between himself and Julien defensively. "We were just – just talking."

Damon raised an eyebrow when Julien's head dipped into her hands, her smile hidden but clearly seen by the wrinkles that formed by her eyes as she chuckled to herself. "Right," Damon drawled. "Whatever. I'm gonna head home, make sure I don't get any unexpected visitors."

Alaric nodded his head with a tight-lipped smile as Damon walked away, leaving the Grill. When he was well out of earshot, Alaric dropped his forehead against the table with a thump while Julien laughed. This was definitely going to cause a few problems for him later. Knowing Damon, he would tell Stefan about tonight, who would tell Elena, who would tell Jenna, and then he would have to deal with –

His thoughts crawled to a stop at the feeling of a gentle hand resting on his arm with a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry if I've caused trouble for you," Julien apologized sincerely. "It wasn't my intention."

Alaric tilted his head so that he could see Julien, his cheek resting on the arm she wasn't holding. Though his vision was blurred by all the alcohol in his system, he could still see her eyes clearly. "Don't apologize. It isn't your fault that Jenna and I… we don't exactly have…" He trailed off into a sigh, which turned into a regretful chuckle. "It's not your fault."

Julien offered Alaric a comforting smile, squeezing his arm once more before standing from the table. "Take a walk with me."

Alaric wasn't given the chance to reply before she had pulled him to his feet, keeping her hold firm on his arm as she tugged him out of the Grill. It was clear that she hadn't meant it as a question. "Where are we going?"

She shrugged in response, grinning at him over her shoulder as they walked into the cool night air. "I have no idea. Anywhere but home."

He could live with that.

"So you said you know a lot about names?" Alaric asked nearly fifteen minutes into their walk, the fresh air helping to clear his mind the smallest bit – at least enough to let him walk without stumbling. Julien had released his arm a while back, tucking her hands inside the pockets of her jacket as he did the same. They walked now side by side, underneath the sparse street lights that clouded the stars. He had no idea what time it was, but found himself not caring all the same.

"One of my hobbies," she confirmed. "Why? What do you want to know?"

"Well, you said that Alaric is a Viking name. Do you know what it means?"

Julien laughed quietly, her breath appearing in front of her as a nearly invisible puff of air. It was still only the fall, but the temperatures at night had dropped well into the 40's lately. "I do."

Alaric's eyes moved to her face, though hers remained on the path before them. "Are you going to share with the class?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely." She shot him a look that said she was being sarcastic before returning her gaze forwards. "It means 'powerful', or 'noble ruler'."

Alaric snorted at that with a shake of his head. "Guess nobody told my mom." Julien remained quiet, her lips pressed tightly together. "And your name? What does Julien mean?"

"It has many meanings, depending on where you believe the name originated from," she answered. Once again her face shifted into that sad, nostalgic look as she retreated into her own mind. "Where I come from, it means 'youthful child'… Perhaps no one informed my mother of that particular meaning either."

"Probably not," Alaric said in a purposefully light tone, wanting to clear the tense feeling that had permeated the air between them. "You're definitely too old to be called youthful."

Maybe it wasn't the best joke, but it worked. A bubbly laugh that was quickly becoming familiar to Alaric burst through her lips, her hand leaving her pocket to hold her stomach. "You have absolutely no idea how right you are."

The silence that followed was in no way uncomfortable for either of them. They walked without talking for a while after that, only stopping when Julien suggested they take a break on a bench they were about to pass. Alaric agreed without argument, the two of them settling in next to each other.

Alaric closed his eyes with a sigh, resting his head against the back of the bench. The alcohol was starting to make him tired, but he didn't want to go home to his empty apartment where he would do nothing but worry about people trying to kill him and his friends. For whatever reason, Julien didn't want to go home either. Though she hadn't shared her reasons with him, he was glad enough for the company. He didn't do so well on his own.

When he felt his cheek begin to itch with the familiar sensation of being watched, Alaric cracked open one eye to see that Julien was looking down at him. Before he had the chance to ask why she was staring at him, she looked away. His eyes followed hers, and he found that she was once again fiddling her fingers.

He hadn't noticed it before, but the ministrations didn't appear to be random. They looked practiced, and refined. "Why do you do that? The thing with your hands?"

Julien's hand stilled. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You'll laugh."

Alaric straightened his back, turning slightly on the bench to face Julien. "Try me."

Her eyes remained firmly on her fingers as she began to move them again, repeating the same patterns over and over. For a moment Alaric thought that she was going to ignore his request, but after another minute of contemplation she gave an answer he honestly hadn't expected.

"When I was younger, I was in love with the idea of magic," she explained loosely, only partially lying to conceal the fact that she had in fact been a witch in a time long ago. "I would imagine that I could see the energy in every living thing, and that if I tried hard enough, I could manipulate it… I made the colors dance."

Alaric waited for her to explain further, and looked down to her hand when she didn't. "Energy, huh? Like you were some kind of clairvoyant, or something?"

The corner of Julien's lips lifted into a half-smile. "Yes, something like that. My favorite thing to do was examine people's auras – to see the difference in each person's soul. No two were ever the same."

The longer she spoke, the more Alaric wondered if this woman had any idea that all the things she spoke of were true. That witches existed, that the energy she imagined was real, that if she had been born into a different family she might have had the chance to experience it for herself.

The wistful look on her face was so heart-wrenching that he almost wanted to tell her. He had no idea what it was about Julien that made him want to see her smile, but he got the feeling that she gave off that effect to everyone, not just him. She seemed like the type of person that others wanted to make happy.

"What color is my aura?"

Julien chuckled quietly, her hand finally stopping as she rested it in her lap. "It isn't that simple," she replied, matching Alaric's position by turning to face him.

"Explain it to me," he shrugged. "We have time. As long as you still don't want to go home."

Julien narrowed her eyes in consideration before offering Alaric her hand. He glanced at it in question, raising his eyebrows. "It's easier to read someone when you have a physical connection," she told him, a teasing grin forming on her face. "Don't worry. I won't bite."

Her little joke calmed Alaric more than she might have thought. It wasn't as if he suspected her of being a vampire, but after living with them for so long he had grown overly-cautious.

Alaric laid his hand in Julien's, wondering silently to himself if it was the cold weather outside that made her palm cool to the touch or if it was just her natural temperature. He watched as she closed her eyes in concentration, breathing deeply for a few seconds before opening them once more.

"An aura is more than one color," she explained quietly, her free hand gliding over his while her eyes followed. "Just as your soul is made of more than one component. You have your personality, your way of thinking, your perception of the world. It all comes together into a rainbow of colors that surrounds you. Some are bright, some are dim. Some are strong, some are weak. There are different shapes, sizes, colors. It's more complicated than just what color is mine."

Alaric's eyes lowered from her face to her hand as it slid over his knuckles and towards his wrist. "Your hands are a bright, baby pink. Which means that you're sensitive, and compassionate."

"Your arms are silver," she continued, her fingers trailing after her words. "Which means that you're a natural nurturer. And your mind – " her hand paused at his shoulder, her fingers tapping the side of his head " – is a brilliant yellow, like the sun. It means that you are intelligent, and curious."

A tingle ran down his spine when Julien's hand settled on Alaric's chest, feeling as heavy as led against him though her touch was lighter than a feather. "Despite all of these beautiful things, your heart is clouded by a rich, dark forest green."

"That's a bad thing?" he asked with a light chuckle, though it faded quickly when she continued to frown.

"It means you're unsure of yourself," she explained, her voice low as her fingers drummed absentmindedly against his chest. "You feel as though you have no place here. That you are not good enough, or strong enough. That regardless of your good nature, you do not belong."

Julien removed her hands from Alaric, severing the connection with a deep frown as the colors dissipated before her eyes. When she looked up from where her hand had been on his shirt, Julien saw that Alaric was staring down at her with furrowed eyebrows and his lips parted slightly, confusion plain in his features. She was right, and he knew it.

"How…?"

The emotion in his face was so pure, Julien felt compelled to tell him the truth. To tell him that she had spent a millennia perfecting the art of regaining the tiniest bit of inconsequential magic that required only a clear mind, and not being a witch at all. To tell him that there were evil things in the world. To protect him from those evil things, because she knew that he didn't deserve to suffer at their hands.

But of course, she couldn't. Despite what she had seen, Julien barely knew this man. She couldn't possibly explain to him in one night what she was, or all the things she had seen. That the world was a dark and ugly place, and beg him to preserve his light for there was so little of it left. So instead…

"The internet," she lied with a forced laugh. "You can learn anything if you look hard enough."

Alaric shook his head at her answer, partly because he didn't believe her and partly to clear his own thoughts. "Of course," he agreed, even though he knew he didn't. To try and change the topic off himself for a moment, he asked, "What does your aura look like?"

Julien shrugged, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I wouldn't know. You can't really see your own. Not like other people see it, at least. It's too clouded by our own self-judgement."

"Could you show me how to see it?"

Julien blinked in surprise. "You want me to… show you how to see my aura?"

Alaric nodded, mirroring her earlier movements by holding a hand out to her. Julien hesitated for a moment before taking his hand for the second time that night, almost instantly feeling the connection reestablish.

"Close your eyes," she instructed. "Take a few deep breaths, and imagine that you can still see the world around you."

Alaric did as he was told, keeping his eyes closed as he reconstructed their spot on the bench from memory. The blackness behind his eyes was slowly replaced by the streetlight buzzing above their heads, fireflies flitting past it, the building to their left that had long since turned out their lights, the grass beneath their feet.

"Can you see me?"

It took a moment to picture her. Her dark hair that fell in waves against her back, framing her heart-shaped face. The slope of her nose that turned ever so slightly upwards. Her dark lips. Her grey eyes. Her shoulders that were hidden underneath a black leather jacket, the collar of a deep red shirt poking out underneath. Her hands that were so small they practically fit inside his palm as he held them. Her long legs turned away from him as they sat on the bench, her knee pressed firmly against his due to their close proximity.

"Yes," he finally answered when he was happy with his mental image of her, his voice coming out as a low murmur as he concentrated. His initial intentions had simply been to distract her from his own low self-esteem but as she spoke he found himself actually wanting to see her as she saw him.

"Now I want you to imagine a rainbow. Not the arch you normally see in the sky, but as a film over your eyes. See the world in colors that you hadn't imagined before, colors you might not have known existed."

That was even harder than picturing her, but he was willing to try. First, the seven colors everyone associated with the ordinary rainbow. Red at the top, indigo at the bottom. He tried to plant more colors in between, the shades differing ever so slightly but in ways he imagined were important.

"Assign the colors to objects. They don't have to make sense, they just have to feel like they belong there. Maybe the grass is orange, or the sky is yellow. Whatever feels right to you."

"This is a lot harder than you made it look," Alaric commented with a huff. He wanted to open his eyes when he heard her giggle, but restrained himself. If he broke his concentration now, he doubted he would get it back.

"Finally, assign colors to me – as many as you think belong. You might see them in my head, or my hands. Take your time. Go through every color, and decide if and where it belongs."

"Where do I start?"

"Wherever it feels right."

From the top, then.

Alaric imagined every shade of red he could come up with, placing them on different parts of Julien. They didn't exactly feel wrong, but not exactly right either. So he moved on.

"Green," he told her, seeing it so clearly in his mind he forgot for a moment that his eyes were closed. "Light green, like… like grass." God, he was terrible at analogies. "On the top of your head."

"Good. What else?"

"It's not yellow, it's more… gold. In your hands." He instinctively tightened his hold on her when he said this, the color surrounding her palms seeming to shimmer when he did so.

Gold and green seemed to be the only colors that fit as he ran down the list, until he reached one of the last colors he was considering. It fizzled into being, clouding her chest from view as it sparked insistently around her heart. It looked almost… angry? "Your chest," he explained, his face pinching in confusion. "It's blue, sort of. It looks closer to black. Like those pictures you see of the parts of the ocean we haven't discovered yet."

Julien remained silent as he finished his mental list. He took another moment to admire the colors that danced around her, moving fluidly as she did, before opening his eyes. They didn't disappear immediately, lingering in his imagination. At least until he saw the look on her face.

Her eyes were unfocused, staring over his shoulder. She had pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting nervously at it. Worried that he had messed something up, Alaric's grip on her hands tightened. "Was that completely wrong?"

Julien seemed to come out of her small trance when he spoke, shaking her head with a plastered-on smile. "No. No, you did very well, Alaric."

He looked as if he didn't completely believe her, but was willing to drop it for now. "So what did the colors mean?"

"Ah, of course," she chuckled, glancing at their intertwined hands as she explained. "The gold you saw represents being wise, and intuitive. The green, balance and unconditional love."

"All good things," he assured her at the flicker of doubt in her eyes. "And the blue?"

Julien hesitated to answer, her mouth opening and closing a few times as if she wasn't quite sure how to phrase her words. "It could mean many things," she settled on finally. "Generally, however, it means fearfulness."

"What are you afraid of?"

Alaric kept his eyes glued to her face as she pulled her hands away from his, sighing through her nose as her lips pressed into a thin line. "Many things."

"Are you going to share with the class?" he asked, repeating his question from earlier in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. Though her lips twitched into a brief smile, her forlorn expression didn't change.

"Perhaps some other time."

With that, she stood from the bench. Alaric copied her motions, standing to face her. He hadn't really noticed it earlier, but the top of her head barely reached his chin – and she was wearing heeled boots. Without them, he doubted she could even clear his shoulders. "There's going to be a next time?"

Julien offered Alaric the brightest smile she could conjure up under the current circumstances, a million thoughts running through her head. He had unwittingly drawn all of her family problems back to the forefront of her mind. She knew that it was time for her to go home… after one more thing.

Alaric remained frozen in place when Julien's cool fingers brushed his jaw, her palm cupping his cheek and her sad eyes focused intently on his as her fake smile dropped into a much softer, more genuine little upturn of her lips. He remained frozen when she pushed herself onto the tips of her toes, barely gaining another inch in height. He remained frozen when her lips landed impossibly lightly on his cheek, amazed he could even feel it with how softly she had kissed him. He remained frozen when her breath tickled his neck, her hand lowering from his face as she took a step back.

"Goodnight, Alaric."

He didn't reply -not quite able to – as she stepped around him. He heard her footsteps thumping lightly against the pavement, growing more distant as she walked further and further away. His chest was heavy with a strange mixture of butterflies and guilt, making him even more exhausted than he had already been that night.

After what seemed like hours later, Alaric finally broke out of his reverie with a deep sigh. He didn't need to turn around to know that Julien was long gone, for better or worse. He also didn't need to look at the phone in his pocket to know that he had stayed out far later than intended, and was going to be dead on his feet tomorrow.

With half of him screaming at himself for not asking Julien when next time would be while the other half wanted to run to Jenna with a mouthful of apologies – though he wasn't quite sure what he would be apologizing for, he just felt like he should – Alaric walked in the opposite direction Julien had disappeared off to, ready to go home and fall asleep. It was the waking up bit that he didn't look forward to.