V. Fall Down

Someone was trembling for fear of the tempest

Somebody silently reached for their hand

Said, understand that if you're cold I'll keep you warm

And besides, there's so much beauty in a storm

I may be lush out of my mind, but that was the best kiss of my life. It should have been much more than a kiss, the wolf in me whispers. I should have fucked her senseless into that pillowed floor, until she was so spent she begged me to stop. I should have touched every part of her, marked her with my scent, with bruises, wounds. Make her scream my name; over and over…Let her know just how thoroughly she is mine. I should have done whatever I bloody well pleased, because I can, and because I know, buried in her humanity, she wants it just as bad as I do. I shake my head, focusing on the pathetically human action of opening the door to my house. No–Caroline deserves more.

Caroline's pretty mouth has stopped moving, and the silence from her is unusual. She bids me goodnight and walks up to her bedroom, saying she was tired. I can't help the grin on my face as I wish her sweet dreams. Of me, I hope.

Grabbing a blood bag from the fridge—I didn't have time to hunt tonight—I walk up to my room, and its balcony. New Orleans is beautiful at night. Even more so, that it used to be. Now vampires run free here, and the nighttime is when you can hear them, unabashedly fighting, fucking, and feeding. It is the most dangerous permanent party fixture I've ever known. And I want it back. Marcel will be exceedingly tricky to take down, always surrounded by his lackeys. I could kill all of them, but then, whom would I rule? I sip on the nauseatingly bland liquid, eventually, as the sun was coming up, hearing a soft thump behind me. Fantastic. "Hello, Elijah."

"Niklaus."

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" I growl, finishing the blood bag and tossing it to the dumpster down on the docks behind the house.

Elijah looks down, fussing with his cufflinks. "The girl is still hysterical, Klaus. My heart goes out to her… I think it would help if you assured her personally that you would see this thing through." Not kill her, he means.

Just like that, I feel all too sober. "I've told you, Elijah, I want nothing to do with this." I walk past him, far past done with this conversation.

"Such stress is not good for the child inside her, Niklaus, your child. She needs sleep."

I turn around and laugh, "So tranquilize the bitch!" I open my arms toward him, a flippant gesture. "I don't care what she needs."

His eyes narrow. "How can you say such things?" He steps closer to me, "All you have ever wanted is a family, Niklaus, now you have the chance, and you're willing to throw it away?"

"—And what good has a family ever gotten me, Elijah, pray tell? You and Rebekah are my only siblings left, and you've both plotted against me at one time or another, both my mother and my father wanted me dead, for centuries."

"Mother and Father wanted all of us dead, brother. Need I remind you that you tossed us into crates, daggered, whenever the mood stroke?" He puts a hand on my shoulder, speaking more gently, "We are all guilty of mistakes, Klaus. But you, Rebekah, and I—we are in this together."

The lump in my throat surprises me. I so wish what he said was the truth. But there was no doubt in my mind that whenever someone decides again arbitrarily that it was time to blame the problems they'd caused themselves on the Original hybrid, Elijah and Bekah would be right there with them if it suited them. We bickered like children still; only now, retaliations had escalated to attempts at ending one another's lives. Or at least pausing them indefinitely, in my case. I would never make an actual attempt on either of their lives, despite their hatred of me, I am the most loyal of them all, even moral-compass Elijah.

How I wish Kol were alive and well. He was unpredictable, to say the least, but I've always thought us kindred spirits. Despite his violent mood swings, and tendency to disobey direct orders, he understood me. Understood the wolf in me, as he housed a little monster of his own. One of a different kind, perhaps.

Now is not a time to dwell.

Forcing myself to nod, I speaking in a fake cheery voice, "Whatever you say, Elijah. Just do me a favor and learn to resist the urge to make visits to baby-daddy for pep talks."

Best get this over with.

I feel hung-over on guilt. I groan and roll out of bed. Coffee.

The feel of Klaus's lips against mine is haunting me, causing me to repeatedly reach up and touch my lips absentmindedly. The thing that really gets me, rather than the fact that it happened in the first place, is that he stopped me. I was the one taking it too far, the one who wanted too much and had to be restrained. It's beyond humiliating.

There was, of course, the ugly little fact that Klaus was pretty much the devil.

But I've run out of ideas of how to just stop being attracted to him. I couldn't very well avoid him, in his own house, a bed I've made for myself. And he certainly was not going to make it easy for me, no, he was clearly going to make it as hard as possible. So, maybe I could just try to focus on something else, like my 'real' reason for coming here, finding out what he was up to. I was sure I heard him talking to someone in the wee hours of the morning, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Stupid foreign languages.

I needed some help on this one.

Since he's out right now, doing god knows what, I quickly get out my cell phone, coffee cup in my other hand, and dial Damon's phone number. If I want to figure out what he's planning, I'll need a fellow bad guy's perspective.

It picks up on the fourth ring. "What?"

Jeeze. "I need your help, Damon."

"Surprise, surprise. Just don't use your teeth, Vampire Barbie, and you'll do fine."

"Wha…Oh my god. Ew. No, I need your help figuring out what Klaus is up to."

"Yeahh—I don't know if you're aware, but Mystic Falls is pretty far from Louisiana."

I roll my eyes. "I just need you to tell me how to get answers from him without arousing suspicion."

"Well, in that case, see advice number one."

"Ugh! Damon this is serious." I hear him sigh.

"Fine. Well the only way that's really going to work is if you have some sort of right to know what he's doing. This is possible, since he's head over heels for you." There's a pause and I know he's physically rolling his eyes. "Has he seemed to have been hiding anything from you, specifically?"

He tells me about Marcel fairly casually, how this used to be his town, and Marcel took it from him. Naturally, he wants it back. It not surprising and it really isn't any concern of ours. But—I think back to this morning. He knows that I could have heard him if he was speaking English. Klaus may know all the languages under the sun, but he seemed to favor English. He even had an accent.

"Yeah, actually. Whenever he talks to—Elijah, I guess if must be," I recall the phone call on the plane, "he speaks in some freaky, old language."

"Then that's your ticket." I hear him take a swig of something in the background. "Find Elijah or confront Klaus directly."

"Thanks, Damon, really." I breathe happily.

"That's what friends are for, Barbie." We're friends now? The line goes dead.

I decide to find Elijah, because I was more likely to get a straight answer out of him. From what Elena's told me in the past, anyway. He's been the most honorable of the Original brothers, though I'm not sure that means much.

Klaus comes in on my way out, and he asks, none too casually, where I'm going. "Out." I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. He raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Just try not to draw too much attention, love." He thinks I'm going out feeding, good.

I scoff and let myself out quickly before I can give myself away. The New Orleans air is pleasant at night, and smells faintly of bourbon, and blood. If I were Elijah, where would I be? I think about his serious attitude, his sullen acceptance of his imperfect family, and decide that somewhere as morose as the cemetery would be a good place to start. My heels click away in the direction of the nearest one, following the handy GPS on my phone.

She's up to something.

I don't know what, but whatever it is, it can't be good. I considered insisting on accompanying her, but knew she would abandon whatever plan hatched in that pretty little head of hers. Instead I decide to observe from the comfort of my home, accessing the fancy little app I installed on hers. A tracking device.

AN: Sorry its a bit short, but the next one is kind of intense, and it didn't really feel right to chop the next scene up.

Forgive me? -Midden