Sorry for the extremely long wait, especially as this is a rather non-event chapter.

I'm going to try to move this story along and get to the Klaroline much quicker than I did in Loopholes. I'm also lending towards shorter chapters at this point, but who knows how long that will last. Big thank you to all of you that have reviewed and especially to Justanotherfiveminutes for encouraging me to get my act together in the nicest possible way.

I've another story idea floating through my brain, but I want to finish at least one of the 3 (and a half) stories I've already started before I annoy you all by posting a new one. So anyhow...

Elena didn't understand how her life had gotten so screwed up. A mere three years previous she'd been optimistic about her future, she'd looked forward to the next day, the next challenge. Now she was just kind of…well flat. Every morning it was a real effort to drag herself out of bed, each time she stepped into her office she felt as though it was leaching the energy out of her. The welfare scheme had breathed a little life back into her, but Klaus had soon put an end to that.

And even though Damon had assured her Klaus had made a swift departure from the Capital when informed of the pending arrival of somebody called Mikael, supposedly the only man alive who Klaus feared – which made her think they should endeavor to stay as far away from the man as possible - his departure hadn't made a lick of difference.

In fact, if anything, it made everything ten times worse because prior to his departure he'd gone to the trouble of replacing her two staffers.

For over two years she'd been mourning the death of her relationship with Stefan, the last thing she needed was his daily presence as a walking reminder of all that was taken from her. So of course, he was Klaus' selection to replace Chad. Still when all was said and done he was a better choice than Klaus' replacement for Dana.

Which led her to what she was slowing beginning to think was an ill-conceived new health kick initiative at the crack of dawn.

She took aim and hit the punching bag with everything she had.

"Crap," she shook her hand after the bag did more damage to her.

"You didn't hit it right," Alaric stated the obvious.

She tried again, this time keeping her thumb on the outside of her fisted hand and though she made contact, and managed not to mangle her hand, the bag barely moved.

"You're not strong enough. Better start lifting some weights, put some meat on your bones," he told her.

"Thanks for not sugar-coating it," she grumbled.

The self-defense sessions were meet to make her feel better not worse. She was meant to leave Alaric's feeling empowered and energized enough that she wouldn't be tempted to self-harm five minutes after arriving at work.

Clearly Alaric didn't get the memo.

"You'll get better if you apply yourself. Just remember that there are people in this world that take whatever they want. They hurt whoever they want. And they do it without remorse. It's their nature. Remember that every time you think I'm being too hard on you," he lectured.

This really wasn't what she signed up for. It was supposed to be a diversion, something to work off a bit of her frustration with her life in general and Klaus and her new staffers specifically. It wasn't supposed to bring to mind everything that was wrong in the world and in hers in particular.

Of course, she only had herself to blame. She'd chosen Alaric to be her instructor, and Alaric was…

Well…he was Alaric.

Elena didn't know his full history, but she knew enough. She was certainly aware that his view of the world was tainted by his time in the armed forces or whatever shady agency he once did the bidding of. Whomever he worked for and whatever he did for them, the job had made him privy to the worst humanity had to offer, and it had almost destroyed him.

He didn't talk about what he'd seen, what he'd done, but it was there in the haunted look in his eyes. There was darkness inside of him.

In short he wasn't exactly who you approached for a little self-defense R&R exercise – he was who you went to if you wanted instruction on the best way to end a person's existence. So perfect if she had murderous intent, not so much for stress relief.

"I know Ric," she told him as she did her best to make the damn bag move. His only response was a long suffering sigh, as though she was personally affronting him with her ineptitude. Perhaps she should have gone running with Bonnie or signed up for Caroline's "hour of hell regime" whatever that was could not have been worse than lessons with Alaric. Then again, for all Caroline's dramatics at times she did tend to call a spade a spade so perhaps her early morning exercise regime was the stuff of nightmares. She hit the bag once more.

"Are you even trying?"

She hated her life.

Rebekah wasn't ashamed to admit that when Stefan re-entered the Mikaelson fold she'd been ecstatic, seeing it as an opportunity to rekindle a love affair ended by circumstance rather than consent. When they had meet once more and he'd seemed if not exactly enthusiastic to become reacquainted then indulgent in her desire to become so, she'd thought that he too regretted that premature ending. She thought that he had missed her as much as she had him, and that with time - and careful management of her intrusive brother – they might once again find happiness in each other's arms. After all, Stefan was firmly back in the inner circle and five years was not so long a time, certainly not long enough to move on from the love of one's life.

How wrong she was.

The night of Jeremy Gilbert's art exhibition, the moment Stefan's eyes meet those of one Congresswoman Elena Gilbert's, Rebekah learnt the truth. Five years was indeed too short a time to move on from the love of your life, but while she had thought Stefan was hers, it was clear that she was most assuredly not his. Stefan Salvatore had not spent five years pining after her, he had moved on and seemed to have found his forever with a brunette antithesis of all that was Rebekah Mikaelson.

And with that knowledge her rose-tinted glasses were shattered and she finally saw what should have been apparent all along. Stefan was no longer hers…if ever he was…and he was most assuredly not her brothers. Rebekah knew her brother well enough to know that he didn't trust Stefan, but he very much wanted to. What she knew of love told her Stefan could not now, nor ever again, be trusted. Not whilst their interests did not align.

With that in mind she took up her new position, not just as Elena's watcher, but his as well. Not exactly the best use of her - frankly valuable - time, but family meant something to her even if it meant nothing to her prig of brother. And even though she wasn't so much doing the job she'd been appointed to – like she'd be running out for coffee or anything else in her Louboutins or listen to the moaning of Elena's constituents - she was very much of the opinion that her selflessness was deserving of a very big reward, something as close to priceless without actually being such.

Platinum and diamonds…maybe emeralds to bring out the color of her eyes.

She wondered how long before she could reasonably abscond to lunch and whether she should put some items on hold for Nik to buy her in fabricated gratitude. Perhaps she should see if Nik's newest minion Tyler was free, he was handsome enough and she was in need of a distraction considering the Stefan situation.

When was the last time she got a manicure again?

"Rebekah?" an incredulous sounding voice asked.

Rebekah deigned to look up from the contemplation of her manicure wondering if April would be able to fit her in that afternoon and just who would dare to speak to her in such a manner. She found standing before her Elena's little blonde friend, the annoyingly one everyone seemed to like.

Stefan's protégé, Tyler's girlfriend, everybody's BFF. Rebekah looked her up and down, nice enough suit not top end but well-tailored, quality shoes, understated make-up, barely a hair out of place, and a perfect manicure. There was something distinctly offensive about the woman. Infuriating even.

"Whaaat are you wearing?" Operating under the philosophy that one did not feed the animals.

"It's Ann Taylor," Caroline replied smoothing out her crease-less skirt self-consciously.

It was just too easy. "Ugh. Vomit."

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," she replied snidely, and none too accurately all things considered.

Caroline's eyes fell across the paperless desk behind which Rebekah was perched and scoffed disbelievingly. "Since when?"

"There was an opening after that unfortunate affair with Dana, so here I am doing my civic duty," she smiled sweetly. "Now, I presume you're here to meet Elena for lunch or something of the like. She's picking up her dry cleaning, so she shouldn't be too long," she advised blandly.

"If you're Dana's replacement shouldn't you being doing that?"

"I'm a Mikaelson," she reminded the other blonde. "Now, you'll need to entertain yourself as I have a few things I need to do," she rose from her chair.

"Clearly nothing related to your supposed job," Caroline commented.

"Naturally, I need a few items to give the Salvatore bachelor pad a more feminine touch seeing as I'm living there. Plus..."

Caroline cut her off, "I'm sorry. Did you say you're living at the Salvatore's, as in, with Damon and Stefan?"

"Did I stutter?" with raised eyebrow. As Caroline seemed lost for words, she continued on. "I'm also in need of some accessories for the benefit on Saturday," she paused. "I guess I'll see you there," she announced innocently sounding enough. Rebekah was pleased to note the tightening of the other blonde's jaw.

"You are not invited. I should know, I organised it," Caroline responded quickly.

"I was appointed to the Charities board just yesterday so I'm not surprised they've yet to inform the staff," she took distinct pleasure at Caroline's affronted look.

"You can't just come here and infiltrate all of our lives," the blonde looked like someone had killed her puppy.

Rebekah smiled brightly. "I'm only interested in yours. Your spunk. Your popularity. Maybe even your boyfriend," and with that she left the other blonde to stew in her own anger.

Diamonds?

Emeralds?

Definitely emeralds.

And maybe another pair of Louboutins or two, one could never have too many after all.