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"I find in you,

Everything I lack in me."

Josie walked towards the brick building, pack slung over her shoulder. The last thing she wanted to do was sit through a lecture, or perform lab experiments. The past seventy-two hadn't made her eager to stay home, but sitting in a classroom wasn't all that inviting either.

She looked up and met a hazel gaze across the parking lot. Lucien leaned against his car, he smiled.

Hurrying across the lot, she swatted his arm once she stood beside him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Well, you shot down my Brazil plan," he said, "I thought we could spend the day together."

She thought about the cold fluorescent light, and Ms. Lark's tapping foot. Somehow that was better than being at home. She missed being with him. Whether they were talking or just sitting around together. "One problem with your plan. If my dad found out he would go ballistic, and the office will definitely call him if I don't show up."

His hand settled on her waist, pulling her closer. "That's what compulsion is for, mon amour. Can't you break the rules," he kissed her cheek lightly. "Just today?" His lips brushed across her jaw. "For me?"

"Fine," she agreed, feeling him smile against her cheek. "But I have to be back in time for lacrosse practice."

"Of course, love," he nipped at her ear, chuckling when she yelped. "I'll be right back." He kissed her forehead sweetly before walking towards the administration office to compel her attendance.

Lizzie walked through the farmer's market, brightly colored tarps and fabrics shaded tables filled with everything from food to clothing. Her wicker basket was heavy on her arm, items placed together like a jigsaw puzzle barely kept balance as she moved.

Most of the witches ignored her, despite Vincent's influence the majority of the covens didn't accept her or Josie. Unnaturals, they called them. Despite that she had gotten the ingredients needed for the spells she was practicing.

A bundle of yellow flowers caught her attention. Those would look nice in the courtyard, it was always so grey. A few flowers would liven—

Lizzie ran into someone, the contents of her basket went flying along with those of a pink bag. "Oh! I'm sorry." Lizzie looked up and felt her face redden. It was her. The woman whose shoes she had drenched in champagne at Marcel's party.

She laughed, and crouched down to help Lizzie gather the scattered items. "Don't worry. I was more focused on that dress over there than where I was going."

Lizzie handed her a package of thyme, picking up her own vial of peppermint oil. The items didn't fit as well as they had, and Lizzie knew she would probably spill them again during the walk home.

She smiled. "I know, I was too busy thinking about flowers to realize there was someone standing right in front of me."

Sybil looked over her to the flower cart. "Word of advice, don't buy from them. Totally overpriced. There's a much cheaper place a few rows over. I can show you, if you want."

"That would be great," Lizzie agreed. The positive energy from Sybil was a nice change from the strife in her home. Spending a little more time with her couldn't hurt anything.

The endless blue above them was cloudless. Bird songs drifted from the trees that surrounded the wildflower spotted clearing they had set their blanket out in. Her head rested on his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall as he breathed.

"Mary Stuart?"

"No," Lucien answered, threading his fingers through her hair.

She hummed in thought. "Da Vinci?"

"Briefly." The breeze picked up, ruffling the edge of the red blanket they were lounging on. "There are quite a few extraordinary people history has forgotten."

"Like who?" Josie asked softly, absently fidgeting with one of the buttons on his shirt.

After a moment of thought he replied, "Moira DeMarco." There was a reverence in his voice she hadn't heard before. "She was hung for murder."

"She killed someone?" Murder wasn't as big a deal to Josie as she knew it should be, though she couldn't see why he respected her for it.

"With an axe," he said, running his fingers languidly up and down her back. "When accused she didn't deny it. Moira knew she would die, and she still killed him."

A sinking feeling broke through the tranquility she had felt being there with him. "Why?"

"The man she murdered had raped her and other women in the town. No one would listen, and eventually she realized if she didn't do something nobody would. By the time they found his body he was mutilated almost beyond recognition. She was willing to die for justice nobody else would carry out."

Moira DeMarco. History may have forgotten her but it was clear the lasting impression she'd made on Lucien. Josie wanted to have that kind of strength, that conviction. "Was she human?"

"A witch. I talked to her once after her death, she seemed at peace on the Other Side."

The Other Side had been destroyed before Josie was born. Vincent always said he believed the worthy went on to a better place, a peaceful place. She hoped he was right. Maybe Moira was there.

But wherever that eternal peace was Josie doubted she'd get passed the front gates. For now though, she was here, with Lucien, and the sky was so blue...

Caroline looked up from her magazine as Lizzie skipped into the room, humming as she rearranged flowers in a glass vase. She smiled brightly when she noticed Caroline sitting on the couch.

"Aren't these perfect?" She set the vase on the coffee table. "It brightens the whole room."

"They're nice," Caroline agreed, glad to see the gloom that had been hanging around her the day before was gone.

Lizzie adjusted one of the bright yellow daisies, and seeming pleased with the result turned back towards the door. Klaus walked passed her as she walked out of the room.

"She seems to be in a better mood," he noted.

So, that's what they were doing? Pretending nothing was wrong. "Yeah." She nodded to the table. "She got flowers."

"Caroline," he sat on the other couch, clasping his hands in front of him, "I haven't been entirely fair to you."

She closed her magazine and crossed her arms. "Go on."

He looked down at his hands. "I've allowed my fears to dictate my actions. Old habits and all."

"Is that an apology?" Not that he had ever been very good at them, but this one was particularly weak.

"A statement, actually." Klaus met her eyes. "Unfair does not necessarily mean my concerns were unfounded."

Circles. They were just going round and round in circles. No matter what she said it would come back to this. "I'm trying to make this better."

"I can tell. I can also tell how much you love them— you and Alaric." He huffed a laugh. "I've seen the way you love people, ferociously, with this all-consuming loyalty. It's— it's the kind of love they deserve."

A flicker of doubt went through her. It wasn't like him to admit he was wrong, or even that someone else could be right. "You aren't angry?"

"Of course, I'm angry," he sighed, looking away from her again. "I'm angry at the situation. At myself for how poorly I've handled it all." He looked back to her. "But, no, Caroline, I'm not angry with you."

"I definitely wasn't expecting that," Caroline said, then added hurriedly, "but I appreciate it."

"We've spent enough time fighting against each other. We're on the same side, it's about time all of us started acting like it." He paused. "I deeply regret my actions and I am truly sorry."

Okay, that was a better apology than she thought he was capable of. "We had a spat," she smiled slowly, "I'm over it."

Pain would have been easier. Pain she knew.

It was the heaviness that tortured her. As if her limbs were turned to steel, and concrete encased her heart.

She had spent an eternity in the room, or maybe minutes. It didn't matter. This was all there would ever be. Cold floorboards. The mirror. The heaviness.

Her.

Heels tapped against the floor as she walked towards her. No warning, no entrance, she was simply there.

"Hello, little witch," her voice was deceptively soft.

She glared up at the girl. No point wasting strength speaking venomous words. Bitch.

The girl smiled at her thought, whether psychic or simply a side effect of whatever world they were in, she heard everything. "Perhaps seeing your beloved would make you feel better."

She was too weak to fight as the raven-haired girl crouched next to her, grabbing a fist full of her hair to keep her from looking away from the mirror. Her reflection distorted and blurred, then an image came into focus.

Kol sat across from a tomb, leaning against the wall of the mausoleum beside it. He was drinking. Again. Her heart ached knowing she had caused him that pain.

"I know you can't hear me," he took a shuddered breath, "but I keep coming here because... because I'm weak. I can't do this without you. I can't wake up every day knowing I have to live a life that you aren't a part of." He shut his eyes tightly, the bottle shattered under his grip. She winced as glass cut into his hand, he didn't seem to notice. "I love you, Davina Claire, and that, I believe, is the greatest punishment I could have received."

Tears slipped down her face, falling silently to the floor. She wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, that her soul wasn't shattered, that she loved him too. But she couldn't reach him, she couldn't even speak.

Then he was gone, and it was only her miserable reflection staring back at her.

"So many years," the girl said, releasing her hold. "Pain like that just doesn't fade. It's a living thing, tearing you apart from the inside out. Until, eventually, all you are is a shell, and the pain is all that remains."

She stood, and took a few steps away. "My sisters will wake me soon. Then, perhaps, you can truly know the nothingness." As easily as she had appeared she was gone.

But she wouldn't let herself be lost. Davina, she was Davina Claire. She had cheated death before, she had destroyed the Ancestors, and faced down far more frightening enemies than a teenage ghost with psychopathic tendencies.

Pushing herself off the ground she managed to roll onto her back. Staring at the web covered wood beams above made her think of the attic... and Marcel... Josh... and Kol. There were still things were fighting for, people she wasn't ready to let go of.

Davina, she thought again, I'm Davina Claire.

Soundtrack:

Scene Two:

New Soul — Yael Naim

Scene five:

Bury — Unions

The quote is R. M. Broderick. It's kind of short for such a long wait, the next chapter will be much longer. Did you guys like the apology? What Lizzie's getting herself into? Thanks for reading, and reviews are wonderful to see.