Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.
A/N: My apologies for the long delay with this chapter. My life has taken a bit of a detour as of late—first, I was laid off unexpectedly, then I packed up my life in three days and spent the next three driving across the country to apply for a new job from home. It's been a stressful month, but I've found a new rhythm and things are starting to look up.
I'll be the first to admit that this chapter doesn't quite meet my normal standards, but I hope it isn't too bad. Enjoy!
And the love for what you hide
The bitterness inside
Is growing like the new born
When you've seen, seen
Too much, too young, young
Soulless is everywhere
- New Born, Muse
Chapter 3: Grounded
Caroline was alone. Completely, utterly alone.
The last person she had seen was the one person she was desperately trying to push from her mind. This feeling of loss, helplessness, hopelessness… it threatened to destroy her from the inside out.
For hours she had been wandering aimlessly through the woods of Mystic Falls, numb, like a zombie, trying to lose herself in the wilderness. She couldn't keep thinking about him anymore. She just couldn't. So she had tried hiding somewhere where the surroundings were endless and chaotic, hoping they would drown out the storm raging in her mind.
It wasn't working.
Caroline knew it wasn't safe, being alone anywhere in her hometown today of all days. Not with the target painted on her back and the Council hot on her heels. It's just that she simply had nowhere else to go.
After all, where did you go when you felt like your whole world had just ended? Caroline wasn't even trying to be dramatic; that's how it felt, actually, like time itself had stopped and she could see no future for herself beyond that horrible moment when she had lost the person she loved most in this world. He was her world.
He was her world, she emphasized bitterly. Past tense.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to go to Florida, and from there, who knew? Maybe they would have traveled the world together. They could have gone to California, New York, China, anywhere… The world was full of possibilities, and they could have taken their time discovering every single one of them, together, because they had all the time in the world. They were immortal. They literally had forever.
Caroline laughed bitterly. Forever sure hadn't lasted long.
It had taken her at least a full ten minutes of denial, of 'he's not dead, he's not dead' running on a constant loop in her mind, before she could finally bring herself to dial Elena's number to deliver the tragic news. She could barely get the words out, at first. When she finally did, she felt like a robot reciting a grocery list. She could hear the words pouring out of her mouth, but not for one instant did her brain comprehend them or accept them as true.
And hadn't some psychologist figured out that denial was the first step in the grieving process? Which, of course, only confirmed the fact that she was supposed to be grieving, which meant that he was actually—
No.
Burying the thought deep, Caroline paused in the act of brushing dirt and leaf fragments from her face, a surprising dampness coating her fingers. She viciously swiped at her eyes before fresh tears could spill over.
No more thinking about it, remember?
But she couldn't help it. It was all she could think about, her recent phone call with Stefan being her sole distraction. She had latched onto that reprieve with the hollow ecstasy of Sisyphus each time he watched the boulder roll downhill, free from his burden for one glorious moment.
It felt nice, Caroline thought, talking to her friend, feeling needed again. It reminded her of how she used to get her kicks through the self-satisfaction of giving advice and being a friend and everything simple and nice and human. It reminded her of another life she used to have. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
The distraction was all too brief, though. Just a small, sweet taste of sanity—and with the cruel click! signaling the end of their conversation, all the grief she had cast aside was just there, waiting, hers to reclaim once more. Nothing to do but keep pushing that boulder, again and again and again, forever. Only, she meant forever forever this time. Grief took pity on no one.
Caroline had experienced tragedy before, once. At least the kind that hit this close to home. But as much as she missed her father—and she did; as much as she hated what he had done to her, there were still many nights when she cried herself to sleep wishing he were still in her life—she had made peace with his passing. He had chosen to die, despite her determination to change his mind. She had done everything she could. What she had told Klaus the night of the Mikaelson ball was true: As much as it hurt, she had let her father go with no regrets.
But this… Caroline had never experienced anything this painful before. Not even during the numerous torture sessions she had received in her short span as a vampire. There were other nights that the memories of Jules and Brady, vampire-Alaric, and yes, even her own father haunted her as they stood over her broken body, taunting and torturing her in all the ways she feared the most. And she would gladly relive those nightmares every night for the rest of her immortal life if she could just blot this one day out of existence. The man she loved—the one she wanted to spend freaking eternity with—was dead. She had seen him in his final moments, helpless, unable to do anything but watch his face contort in agony until he forced her to flee the cellar, leaving him to die alone, and Caroline knew, she just knew that that memory… That will become her new nightmare. For the rest of her pathetically long immortal existence. Every time she closed her eyes, all she'd see was Tyler…
Tyler.
His name alone was like a knife twisting in her gut. Thinking about his smile, his voice, the whispered I love you's in her ear… Those bittersweet memories left her bleeding, raw, exposed to the unbearable pain that threatened to consume her yet again.
And in the middle of it all, Caroline couldn't help thinking, incredulously: Elena had lost so many more people than she had; how in the world did she cope with it all and not fall to pieces? And for the love of everything pure and sane, why was Caroline ever remotely envious of that life? It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard of, and if she could, she'd go back in time and slap her human-self with the all the vampire strength she had. But of course that was so stupid; if she could go back in time, she'd simply prevent Tyler from dying somehow, and then—
No. She couldn't go down this road. Not again.
She couldn't keep doing this to herself. She couldn't keep playing the 'what if' card and imagining all the alternate scenarios, what could have happened if she'd only rolled the dice differently, how much better everything could have turned out. It was a game she constantly played with herself, ever since tragedy became a Mystic Falls staple, and she was tired of her losing streak. After losing so much in one night, she'd be damned if she lost her sanity, too.
But there was still that nagging voice in her head, small, but gaining volume by the second as it urged her to do the one thing she swore she would never, ever do: turn it off. Turn off her emotions, this heart-wrenching grief—Tyler, the knife twisted again—her humanity, everything. Just make it stop, flip the switch, turn it all off.
It made sense. Vampires' emotions were heightened, so even humans didn't have an equivalency for this magnitude of anguish. The price they pay for immortality, and whatnot.
Fortunately, they came equipped with a solution: a convenient switch that allowed you to shut out all the bad stuff (pain, sadness, rage, despair, yadda yadda), and revel in the pleasure and satisfaction like a good little hedonist. And wasn't that just handy?
Naturally, it wasn't that simple, and it certainly didn't come without strings attached. Nothing in life ever does. Flipping the switch wouldn't lead to a life of rainbows and unicorns. It was more like… oblivion, or emotional purgatory, an inability to feeling anything—the bad and the good.
And let's not forget the biggest price of all: blood, lots of it, on her hands. There would be tears, but they wouldn't be hers. There would be death, bodies, families torn apart from her ruthlessness, her selfishness in her choice to seal her own pain away, because she wouldn't, couldn't care. She would be immune to the one disease that could destroy a vampire: emotion. Everything and everyone else was just collateral damage. And wasn't that the point? Pawn off her pain onto somebody—anybody—else?
Caroline shook her head vigorously, banishing the traitorous thoughts. There was too much death and pain in the world already.
Besides, that wasn't who Caroline Forbes was. She may be an insecure, neurotic control-freak on crack, but she wasn't a bad person. Alright, yes; technically, she was capable of doing terrible things. As a vampire, she had accepted that inconvenient fact. But she always knew that she had a choice, that she was the one in control, not her baser predatory instincts. Without her humanity, she would lose every bit of that control she possessed. She would lose herself. She would lose the people she cared about—her mother, Bonnie, Elena, Matt, Stefan—simply by the fact that she would be incapable of caring about them in the first place. And Tyler, well… all those wonderful memories they had built together would disappear, too, as the woman he fell in love with spiraled out of control.
That last thought brought her up short. How could you, Caroline? she mentally berated herself, tears reforming. Tyler loved you with everything he had. How could you even think about throwing away what you shared?
There was no quick-fix. No way to make this better, easier. Not this time. Not even Caroline Forbes, chair of every town committee in existence and Miss Mystic Falls to boot, could fix grief.
She started running. She didn't remember deciding to do it. Her body simply willed her feet into motion, carrying her further and further away from her depression (she wished). She dimly realized that her tears were drying up, and that's all the persuasion she needed to keep going.
The wind in her hair felt good. Great, actually. For a brief moment, all she knew was the exhilaration of physical exertion—something she had discovered she loved along with cheerleading—and the addiction that came with the sense of control she felt as she pushed herself further, longer, just a little bit faster. If she ran fast enough, surely she could leave her grief in the dust where it belonged.
Tall evergreens became a blur in her peripheral as she zipped through the forest at vampire speed, occasionally leaping over fallen debris and ducking beneath exposed branches that threatened to knock her down. They wouldn't be doing that today. Caroline wouldn't let them.
But life had a funny way of derailing your plans, oftentimes in the cruelest of ways. What was that phrase? Something about the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, and oh, who cares, she'd been too busy dealing with Supernatural Crisis #17 that week to do that stupid reading assignment anyway. And yet, here she was, standing right in front of the one place she definitely did not want to see again anytime soon.
The Lockwood Cellar.
It was where she had helped Tyler through his first agonizing werewolf transformation on the full moon, which inevitably sprouted their Romeo-and-Juliet-esque romance. It was where the two of them had, ah, reunited after he had returned from breaking his sire bond to Klaus. And let's not forget, it's where he had spent his final moments, in terror, knowing he was moments away from knocking on death's door. Despite the happier memories she'd prefer to attach to this special place, it's that final one that would stay with her forever.
Why did her feet lead her here, of all places? Seriously, her subconscious had a really twisted way of kicking her when she was already down.
She fell to her knees, no longer able to keep the tears at bay. It just wasn't fair, none of this was fair! She shouldn't be here, facing the cruel world without him by her side. They were supposed to die together, weren't they? Wasn't Klaus the sire of her bloodline, too?
But Caroline's death would mean Stefan's death. Damon's. Even Abby's. She couldn't put her burden on them just because she felt like giving up. What was it that Tyler had told her in the end? You're strong, and you have a beautiful future ahead of you…
Caroline did not feel strong, not even close. She felt like the shell of the person she was, and she hated that. So right then, Caroline made a promise to herself that she would try, however long it took, to be happy again someday. To do something meaningful with her life, because even though she couldn't share it with the boy she loved, she could damn well try to make it good. For Tyler.
She rose from the ground slowly, rubbing at her eyes as she took a few deep breaths. This is the last time, she vowed, that she would fall apart like this. She would attend Tyler's funeral, even if the Council's presence only allowed her to grieve at a distance, and she would mourn him for years to come, but never again would she allow herself to lose this much control. She just couldn't handle it. She wasn't made that way.
So with her final bit of resolve, she accepted her fate, dismal as it was. She had no intention of deluding herself, though. She knew from experience that the whole 'time heals all wounds' bull was exactly that: complete crap. But she would keep the promise she just made. She would go on living, no matter how painful it was. Someday she may even find happiness again—
A snapped twig punctuated the silent clearing.
—But that day wasn't today. Clearly she wasn't alone in her solitude.
Caroline whipped around, her blond curls flying over her shoulder, but there was no one behind her. Her first thought was, Oh God, the Council found me, and she immediately began lamenting that the promise she made only seconds ago would go unfulfilled. Adrenaline coursed through her system, her fight or flight instincts ready to kick in at an instant's notice.
When she heard nothing further, she wanted to dismiss the noise as a fluke, but her skepticism won out. Something wasn't right. Someone was near her, she could feel it. And it definitely wasn't a Council member. Judging by their silent entry and lack of heartbeat, they weren't even human.
Her paranoia proved right when another snap! came from her left.
Her head flashed to the side. Still no one. All that lingered was a familiar scent that she recognized a second too late.
A rush of air behind her—she whirled again—and then—
She froze. Air rushed into her lungs. Her eyes widened, round as saucers, disbelieving.
"Oh my God," she whispered. She blinked, but the intruder mercifully didn't vanish this time. "Tyler?"
"Rebekah."
Just outside Elena's doorway stood the Original vampire herself, predatory grin in place, clearly pleased with the effect she was having on the girl she had killed just last night.
Elena couldn't help seething. Rebekah's all-too-casual pose against her doorframe was beyond infuriating.
"Hello, Elena. Nice to see you alive and well." Her tone clearly suggested she was anything but.
"What the hell do you want?" Elena demanded.
Rebekah tutted. "Such hostility. I take it your heightened emotions aren't treating you well?" She cocked her head, considering. "You know, you could simply complete the transition and shut them all off… But then, how could you look down your nose at the rest of us heartless monsters once you've joined the club?"
Rage swept through Elena so fiercely she half-expected her blood to boil from every orifice of her body. She had felt powerful emotions before: happiness, on occasion; terror, frequently; grief, in spades. But never before had she experienced such explosive, raw anger. It was exhilarating, how powerful this feeling was, that she felt almost invincible… but a small voice in Elena's head—an annoyingly logical one that she wished would just shut up—screamed at her to pull back. Resist the temptation. She wasn't quite so delusional that she honestly thought she could go toe-to-toe with an indestructible Original and live to tell the tale.
But as soon as she shoved her fury aside, Elena felt another emotion take its place: shame. Rebekah's taunt, spiteful as it was, cut her straight to the core because it was true. She never wanted to be a vampire. Rebekah knew that; she was the one that did this to her.
Bitch.
Suddenly, Elena was seeing red again. Her fists clenched, aching for a fight. Oh God, would this cycle of emotional hell never end?
Only the knowledge that Rebekah wanted this reaction—wanted her to cry out like a wounded puppy and make a pathetic and ultimately futile attempt to avenge herself—kept her in check this time.
(Otherwise, she'd have the blonde's head on a platter right about now.)
No, Elena wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. Not today.
She clenched her jaw. "What do you want, Rebekah?" she repeated.
The Original's smile turned sickly sweet. Mocking her. "Can't a friend pop by for a visit without suspicion of an ulterior motive?"
Friend.
"—Or has the transition heightened your paranoia along with your emotions and your overinflated sense of self-importance?"
Yet another transparent attempt at baiting her. Rationally, Elena knew that—Rebekah never was one to be subtle. Or mature. Apparently a thousand years of living on this earth and she still behaved as childish as the eternal youth she embodied. As a kid rips off a butterfly's wings for sport, Rebekah had delightedly ripped away Elena's humanity in a moment of pettiness. From her suffering came Rebekah's triumph.
And even after that, after the one piece of herself that she treasured above all else was stolen from her, her murderer had to come out of her way just to rub salt in the wound? Seriously? Was this the sort of torture she could expect for the rest of her existence? A personal tormenter whose goal was to make every moment of her afterlife a living hell?
Screw that. Enough was enough.
"And what about you?" Elena volleyed back. "I remember the day you invited me over to reminisce about when you and your family were turned. You were so eager to see me as a friend that you told me whatever I wanted to know. Is that what's magnified for you—your desperate need for attention?"
If she expected Rebekah to retaliate, she was sorely disappointed. The Original's composure never wavered as she coolly replied, "At least one of us is honest about her intentions. Do you truly believe that you're innocent, that you're better?" Her expression darkened. "You can try to hide behind that disgusting self-righteous act that has the Salvatores so enamored, but it doesn't change the fact that you use people to get what you want, and then get rid of them after."
Elena knew exactly what she was referring to, and couldn't help feeling a reluctant pang of remorse, recalling the way she had daggered Rebekah so she couldn't interfere with the plan to take down her brother at the Homecoming dance.
The guilt didn't last. "Just like you got rid of me last night to save yourself?" Suddenly struck with an idea, she tacked on, "Just like you tried to get rid of Matt?"
Bingo. That got a reaction. Who knew her friend's name was the chink in this immortal's emotional armor?
"That," Rebekah hissed, "was not my intention."
Then, like the flip of a switch, her composure returned, and she was once again the focused, calculating predator. Elena automatically flinched away from the doorframe. Thank goodness her house was a Rebekah-free zone.
"I don't owe you an explanation," she declared. Her lips curled upward as she casually tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Now why don't you invite me inside and we'll have a proper chat like civilized people?"
Like hell.
"And why," Elena ground out through clenched teeth, "would I want to be civil with you?"
And just like that, Rebekah put her back on the defense. So much for exposing a weakness.
"Still so touchy. Come now, Elena. You stab my back, I stab yours. All water under the bridge. Oh, sorry—" Her hand flew to her mouth in mock-apology. "Poor choice of words."
Why was it that when Elena uttered her Freudian slip, she laughed to the point of hysterical tears, but when Rebekah spoke a similar phrase, she wanted nothing more than to make her cry?
When Elena didn't respond, Rebekah looked a little put out; but she recovered quickly, shrugging indifferently. "Truth is, I'm not particularly interested in what you want at all," she replied, answering Elena's question. "In case I've been too subtle, let me make it crystal clear for you."
Rebekah deliberately leaned forward as close as the vampire-invitation barrier allowed her—an act that would have intimidated Elena if she didn't know she was safe. "I'm not exactly pleased that you're still breathing."
"So that's why you're here? To finish the job?"
The Original rolled her eyes. "I know it must shatter your perfect little world to hear this, but the universe doesn't revolve around Elena Gilbert. Truth be told, I'm actually here for Damon." Elena's eyes widened at that. "The Boarding House was empty, and we both know your place is Salvatore Central more often than not, so here I am. Now be a good girl and fetch your boyfriend for me, would you?"
"He's not my—" Elena began.
Rebekah sighed, exasperated. "Honestly, I have more important things to worry about than which brother is your current flavor of the week." Another eye roll. Elena was surprised they didn't pop right out of her head. "The white oak stake, for example. I know Damon took it from Alaric when he died, and I'm here to retrieve it before I put this hellhole of a town in my rear view for good. So I'll ask you again." Her voice held no humor this time. "Where is he?"
"Not here," Stefan answered her, materializing at Elena's side.
Rebekah paid him no heed. She only had eyes for Elena. "Ah, I was wondering when one of your body guards would show up." She glanced between the two of them, ultimately settling on nemesis once again. "Just curious, now that you're, let's say… vampire-adjacent," Elena glared at the jab, "will you still play the damsel in distress, or will you actually dirty your hands and fight your own battles for a change?"
Elena clenched her fists, keeping them firmly at her sides. Attacking would be suicide, she reminded herself. Don't engage, don't engage, don't—
"Rebekah," Stefan said firmly, attempting to divert her attention and get the conversation back on track. She smirked, and Elena belatedly realized that his interruption, though well-intended, simply proved her point.
Not discouraged, Stefan soldiered on. "Even if you're right about Damon, what's to stop any of us from using that stake on you?"
It didn't even sound like a threat; it just sounded like idle curiosity.
"Because unlike your half-wit brother, you're not a complete idiot. My brother is dead," she stated abruptly, "which leaves three possible originators of your blood line, myself included. I don't need to point out those aren't very good odds."
"And if you get it, you'll just… what? Take it and leave?" Stefan asked skeptically.
"I have no reason to stay," she replied bitterly. Elena idly wondered if she was still thinking about Klaus. Thinking of her own brother, she felt an unwelcome bubble of sympathy surfacing for her killer. Elena immediately squashed it. "I'll keep it safe."
"Safe from who, exactly?" Elena asked. "As you've already mentioned, we can't exactly use it on you."
"But you're not the only ones out there that want to end me and my family, are you?" Rebekah pointed out. "Alaric sicced his Council bloodhounds on the vampires in this town, and much as I'm loath to admit it, they aren't completely incompetent. I'm hardly about to leave the only weapon that can destroy us in the hands of Mystic Falls' inept band of would-be heroes," she scoffed. Turning to Stefan, she added, "So when Damon returns, see that he does the smart thing for a change and hands the stake over."
"And if we don't?" Elena challenged.
Rebekah's head snapped back in her direction. "Well, in that case," she drawled, her voice no longer sugary. She was dead serious. "As much as I would love to watch you suffer an eternity of misery as a vampire, I have no problem killing you all over again."
The next thing Elena saw was blond hair flying as the Original turned on her heel and began walking away at human speed, effectively ending the conversation. She only took a few steps before she paused, and glanced back at the girl she left speechless in the doorway.
"Be seeing you, Elena."
It was a warning, a promise. It left a bad taste in her mouth.
Rebekah, who may or may not have sired their bloodline, essentially got a free pass for her crimes. She had just threatened Elena into getting the white oak stake so that it didn't fall into the hands of the Council, who, by the way, was still on their heels. She threatened Damon, who already had his hands full bringing back Alaric's body for burial. She threatened Stefan, who was stuck babysitting her as her uncoordinated pre-vampire emotions spiraled out of control. Did she miss anything?
Elena let out a deep breath. Could this day possibly get any worse?
Glancing sideways, she shared an uneasy look with Stefan as she shut her front door.
She really needed to stop asking that question. The answer, inevitably, was always yes.
The knife twisted in Caroline's gut again, insistent that this was just false hope. There was no way he was actually standing in front of her. He was dead. She had seen him die with her own eyes… hadn't she?
"Caroline?"
Tyler.
Speechless, all she could do was stand there and gape at him like a goldfish.
Hearing his voice, so achingly familiar and filled with such concern, was balm on her battered heart. It was all she needed to know the truth.
"What are you doing here?" he tried again. "You were supposed to leave town."
It sounded vaguely accusatory, but Caroline wasn't even paying attention to something so trivial. With his miraculous reappearance, the world and everything in it had faded away, leaving in sharp focus the only truth she cared about: Tyler was here. Right in front of her. Alive.
Her world was back on its axis.
Without thinking twice about how impossible it was, Caroline blurred over and threw her arms around him, peppering his face with kisses as she sobbed from pure happiness. Pulling back slightly, she gazed into his warm brown eyes—eyes that she never thought she'd see staring back at her again. She saw her own longing for him mirrored back at her.
"You—" her voice broke on the syllable. "You're here. But how? How are you alive?"
He opened his mouth, visibly struggling to make sense of it himself, but she didn't give him the chance to answer.
"You know what? Explanations can wait."
She had spent the last fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes thinking Tyler was gone forever. Right now, she was beyond eager make up for that lost time and show her boyfriend just how much she had missed him.
Without further preamble, Caroline yanked his face to hers, joining their lips with bruising force.
"This is a bad idea."
Bonnie sighed for what felt like the tenth time. "We've been over his, Jeremy. You agreed this was the right thing to do."
And it was. Bonnie knew that without the spirits' help, this was the only way they might be able to save Elena from the horrible fate of becoming a vampire. Admittedly, when she first told Klaus she had a plan, she had been bluffing a little. She had an idea, yes, and a crazy one at that—but she had no idea if it was actually possible. A bit of light reading, some improvising, and a half-baked plan later, Bonnie knew that it was possible. Not recommended, of course, but possible. There was just the tiny little catch that Bonnie might have to give her life to make it work.
It was risky, sure, but had they honestly thought something like this would be easy? Bringing someone back to life… it was the ultimate selfish act, the ultimate sin against nature, but nothing worth gaining was ever free. Bonnie knew this all too well. She knew the chance she was taking, and she was ready to pay the price and let the chips fall where they may.
Jeremy, on the other hand, still needed a bit more convincing. Apparently the last twenty minutes hadn't been enough.
She never thought it would take so much persuasion to get Elena's own brother on board with the plan, but she couldn't exactly hold it against him. After all, he was only worried for her sake, and she knew that if the situation were reversed, he would gladly sacrifice his life just as sure as she would try to stop him.
"You should at least send me instead," he suggested suddenly, almost as if reading her mind. "I can still see ghosts, so I'll be able to find Elena on the Other Side. Plus, I have my ring," he reasoned, "you know… just in case."
Bonnie had to admit, he made a valid argument. He was a medium that had experience communicating with the dead. It made sense, in a way… but she wasn't budging.
"You've already died too many times with that thing," she pointed out, the memories of Alaric's descent into madness hanging between them.
"But at least I have it if I need it," he argued. "If you die, you'll be stuck in supernatural purgatory. Permanently."
Bonnie gave him a soft smile, touched by the depth of his concern for her safety. "It won't come to that," she assured him.
Honestly, it warmed her heart to see how much he cared for her, despite the fact that it was his own sister's life hanging in the balance. Bonnie loved that she still meant so much to him.
But she couldn't allow her actions to be dictated by sentiment or a guilty conscience. Neither would help their cause. The reason was simple: It was dangerous enough sending a witch to a realm where the dead roam free; it was beyond reckless to send a human, even one as well qualified as Jeremy. She had to be the one to go, end of story.
The fact that she couldn't allow someone she cared about to step into the line of fire, not when she could protect them, was not lost on her either. But it was better if Jeremy didn't know that. He'd already spun that particular argument on her several times with near success, but she wouldn't let herself be swayed by making this decision out of emotion. No sentiment, remember?
No, if Bonnie had any guarantee of making him see that her way was the right way, it would have to be through plain, irrefutable logic.
"Remember what I told you," she continued, switching tactics. "Witches have liberty on the Other Side, free from the restrictions that other supernaturals face. Once I find Elena, I will bring us both back. If I sent you, there'd be no guarantee of that."
"No guarantee of what? Bringing Elena back, or bringing me back?"
"Either. Both." She paused, contemplating. "Neither of us knows what state Elena's spirit will be in on the Other Side. She's just in transition, so right now she's not fully alive or dead. She could have a corporeal form, liked veiled matter, or she could just be mystical energy… I honestly have no idea. But whatever she is, she will probably need some magical assistance to get her home." She smiled wryly. "Hate to state the obvious, but between the two of us, I'm the only one that fits the bill in the magic department."
"But you've also said that magic has a kind of push and pull effect, right?" he probed. She nodded, curious where he was going with this. "Then wouldn't it be more effective if I pushed from the Other Side, while you pulled from here? I can't do much in this realm, but you can."
Bonnie blinked. She hadn't thought of that. Despite herself, she was impressed. She knew that Jeremy was far from stupid (as much as he tried to play 'slacker student' role in school), and while she normally found intelligence a very desirable trait, right now it was putting a serious kink in her plan.
Until she remembered something important. "Actually, that's not strictly true. I invited you here for two important reasons."
"You mean besides moral support?" he quipped.
"Okay, three reasons," she conceded, a reluctant smile spreading across her face. "Since you and Elena are related by blood, as long as you and I maintain contact, I can use you to help pinpoint her location better once I've crossed over."
Jeremy nodded, understanding. "And the other reason?"
"You'll help me cross back." She shifted her weight, suddenly feeling uneasy. "I don't know what I'll see over on the Other Side… I may not want to come back, or even remember that I should. I need you to keep me grounded here, in the plane of the living, and help me find my way back."
She watched the light dawn in his eyes. "Like an anchor."
"Exactly. Once I've found Elena, I'll just retrace my footsteps and follow our connection back to you." She paused briefly, lowering her voice as she added, "Who better to be our lifeline than you?"
Bonnie hadn't realized how true those words were until she had said them out loud. Now that she had, she still wasn't sure why she felt the need to emphasize how much faith she had in him, but as she watched his expression fill with gratitude, she wasn't sorry she did. Besides, if a confidence booster was enough to sway him to her side, then so much the better.
"You push, I pull," he echoed, a twist on his earlier words.
She nodded with approval. "Something like that."
"Although," he went on, "still seems to me we're on equal footing. You've made a good case for yourself just now, but it doesn't change the fact that either of us is capable of finding Elena and returning with her. Either of us has the potential to succeed or fail. It's risky for either of us." Bonnie instinctively knew she wasn't going to like whatever came next. "What I don't understand is why you have to be the one to take that chance, especially considering that a witch is worth a hell of a lot more alive than Joe Average over here."
And they were back to square one.
"Haven't you listened to a word I've said? The risks are a lot less serious for me than for you. I can come back—"
"Really?" he interrupted, skeptical. "You can guarantee that?"
"Remember what I said earlier, about there being no guarantee of coming back if you tried?" she countered, hoping he wouldn't call her out for deflecting. "Just as you would have difficulty even finding Elena, you might be prevented from coming back. The other witches… they might try to stop you from returning and upsetting the balance again." Truthfully, Bonnie had no idea if she was right, but it was a valid argument nonetheless. "You have an advantage as a medium, but unlike me, you're powerless there. Jeremy, you could die!"
He held up his ring as a reminder. "I can't, though, remember? Well," he backtracked, "I can, but I'd just wake up later, no harm done."
His nonchalance lit her fuse so fast, she wouldn't be surprised if she accidently set the room ablaze. "Yes, harm done!" she exclaimed. She felt her composure beginning to crack. "Elena's spirit wouldn't be able come back with you, not to mention you'd be one step closer to developing a murderous alter-ego just like Alaric! When are you going to understand that I'm trying to protect you just as much as you're trying to protect me?"
Once again, words seemed to pour from her mouth before she could stop them. True as they were, she hadn't meant to let him see just how scared she was for him. She needed to stay strong.
Stunned at her outburst, Jeremy said nothing. They stared at each other, neither one willing to break the silence until Bonnie couldn't take it anymore. They needed to get back on track.
"Look, we're going in circles," she said with forced calm. "We've been over this. Deep down, you know I'm right. You said before that you trusted me, so here's your chance to prove it."
She lifted her chin in determination, leaving room for no further argument. "Let's begin."
Klaus was certain there was nothing better in this world than kissing Caroline Forbes. And that was saying something, considering the Original had had his fair share of women and blood and periods of hedonism throughout the last millennium. Even if he spent the next century in her embrace, basking in her angelic light, he knew he would never tire of it. He could never get enough of her. She was his addiction, pure and simple.
Beautiful, strong, full of light… Those words had never held more truth than they did right now, with Caroline pressed up against him, her delicate fingers tracing patterns on his face like she could hardly believe he was real. Klaus certainly knew the feeling. Honestly, he had expected to wait at least a decade before she permitted him the honor of a kiss. Not that she knew any better.
Best not to quibble over technicalities. There was a gorgeous blonde in his arms, and he was going to make damn sure she got every attention she deserved.
Of course, that was easier said than done. (Nothing with Caroline ever was easy, after all.)
Every beastly instinct he possessed urged him onward, testing the limits of his control—consume, ravage, dominate, bite. It was that last impulse he took issue with, especially given their history. It wouldn't do to be a repeat offender, and he wasn't particularly keen to relive the memory of seeing Caroline's neck swollen and painful after a run-in with his sired pup. No, he'd have to temper that part of himself. For now. A thousand years had taught him patience.
It was that sort of practiced restraint that allowed Klaus to take his time with her, his ministrations so careful and deliberate they bordered on worship. Caroline was the most precious thing he'd ever beheld, and she deserved far more than the sort of instant gratification one obtained through rushing and inexperience. And even though rational thought dictated that his time with her was limited, his hands held her flush against him in a manner that promised he was never letting her go.
So he savored every second, exploring every inch of her, making note of what she liked and committing every caress, sigh, and taste to memory because, lord knew, he'd never get another chance like this. Monsters dream of heaven every day, but rarely do they get in, and never to stay.
He would have been content to languish in the sweet torture, but Caroline apparently had other intentions.
Impatient with the pace, she abruptly shoved him backward until he collided hard with something solid and uneven—a tree?—before immediately wrapping herself around him once again and attacking his lips with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Such desire, such passion… it was the most glorious thing he had ever seen—it was empowering.
Klaus wanted more. He craved it, more than he had ever craved anything in his existence. She was dangerously intoxicating; so much so that it took him much longer than it should have to recall why taking this little rendezvous too far would be a very bad idea.
He wasn't used to denying himself anything, but in this case… Best to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand. Well, more than it already had.
In a feat nothing short of a miracle, he pulled away from her. For about a second.
"Caroline," he managed, internally wincing at the huskiness of Tyler's voice. "We should—"
She shushed him. "What did I say about talking?"
And then her mouth covered his again, picking up where they left off.
He tried, he really did. Was it his fault she stopped him?
Klaus felt her teeth nip at his bottom lip, teasing him, and that was all it took to shatter the last bit of his self-control. Clearly Caroline's enthusiasm was affecting him in deep, dangerous ways.
I'm already going to hell, he reasoned. Might as well enjoy the ride.
Abandoning his earlier restraint, he brought his hands down and took possession of her hips, flipping their positions so fast her head rebounded against the tree, drawing a surprised gasp from her. Taking advantage of her parted lips, he wasted no time invading her mouth with his tongue, exploring her, tasting her, memorizing every curve and crevice he could find.
All bets were off. He was done playing it safe.
But she didn't give him the chance. She fought back, meeting him step for step, her own tongue clashing against his with a force that momentarily stymied him. It had been so long since a woman, or anyone really, had even tried to match him in any capacity. He really should have known better than to be surprised; Caroline never was one to back down from a challenge, and given her fiery response, that's exactly how she had interpreted his sudden display of dominance.
Before he could recover from the shock of her boldness, he felt her tongue slip past his, returning the favor with the enthusiasm and skill of someone well beyond her years—lord, she was a glorious kisser—an unspoken challenge of her own if there ever was one.
Well, if that's the way she wanted to play it…
Game on, love.
He felt Caroline smile against him, satisfied with her victory, and Klaus was sorely tempted to return the sentiment. Good. Let her think she had the upper hand. Lowering her guard would only make it easier for him to reclaim it.
Switching gears, Klaus' hands sought hers, gently stroking her fingers before interlacing them with his own… And then, without warning, he abruptly yanked them over her head, locking them in place as his body held hers tightly against the tree. It wasn't ideal, he'd admit—Tyler Lockwood's body didn't fit against hers quite as well as he imagined his own would, like two puzzle pieces—but what this inferior vessel lacked in physicality, Klaus was determined to make up for with a thousand-years-worth of expertise.
Caroline must have sensed his intentions as well. He felt her shiver and brace herself against him in what, he assumed, was anticipation.
Lesson Number One? Never underestimate Caroline Forbes, because she will make a mockery of your assumptions. How many times did she have to prove that for it to sink in?
In a surprise maneuver that proved she deserved the title of Cheer Captain, she abruptly twisted in his hold so that his chest cradled her back, and then propelled the pair backwards at vampire speed. A feeling of déjà vu surfaced as, once again, Klaus felt his back slam against another one of the infinite trees surrounding them in the forest.
His distraction was all she needed to free her wrists, throwing him a coquettish grin over her shoulder in a very 'What do you plan to do about it?' manner.
Vixen.
In truth, her reluctance to submit should have thoroughly frustrated him—disobedience never was something he tolerated before, a lifetime of evidence to the contrary proved that—but disappointment never even crossed his mind. As he watched the fascinating creature before him, eager to see what she would do next, all he felt was triumph. An alpha male needed an alpha female, after all, and Caroline proved time and again she was his equal in every way.
Turning around to face him once more, Caroline rid herself of her blouse in one swift motion, pausing briefly to allow him time to admire the view. And admire, he did.
His eyes hungrily raked over her petite form, her flawless skin flushed a beautiful shade of pink from her face all the way down to the subtle curves of her breasts. Her lips were rosy and swollen and perfect, tasting vaguely of mango and just as soft as he had always imagined. And even though he could tell by the redness of her eyes that she'd been crying recently, there was certainly no sign of sorrow now; on the contrary, the fire in her eyes made her look more alive than he had ever seen her.
(He made a mental note to paint that very expression later.)
It was a wonder his own eyes hadn't flashed gold, his latent wolf instincts itching to manifest, to take this beautiful woman in front of him, claim her as his own, and ruin her for any other man—something rather difficult to accomplish as he currently resembled her boyfriend.
Oblivious to his inner conflict, Caroline flung herself into his arms once again, clearly pleased with his assessment. The heady scent of vanilla mingled with pine and something else—sunshine? was that even possible?—assaulted his senses once more, and in that moment he felt himself drowning in everything Caroline. It was the closest he had ever felt to being desired, truly and completely wanted; and manipulated though it was, Klaus knew he would replay this memory in his head until the end of time.
Determined to mark her body as vividly as she had his mind, he continued his assault on her mouth with renewed vigor, a growl tearing its way from his throat, eager to prove just how deeply she affected him. To make her his just as he was already hers.
Always and forever.
Urgently he traced a line of open-mouthed kisses from her mouth to the hollow of her throat and down towards her shoulder, smirking when she tensed and let out a surprised gasp. It was music to his ears. Determined to hear it again, he paid special attention to her pulse point, alternating between licking, sucking, and blowing gently on the sensitive area. He couldn't help but rejoice when her pulse jumped, knowing he had the power to affect her as deeply as she affected him. The erratic pattering of her heart urged him on in a way that words never could. And he was more than happy to continue, until—
"God," she moaned, breathless. "Tyler."
And just like that, his moment of bliss came to a screeching halt. Hearing that traitorous mutt's name from Caroline's lips—it was the wakeup call that he both needed and hated with equal measure.
Klaus stiffened, and it clearly didn't escape Caroline's notice. He looked in her eyes, searching for something, he wasn't sure what, before he gently extricated himself from her arms and turned away.
"Tyler? Are you okay?" she asked with genuine concern.
Too bad it wasn't for him.
"Perfectly fine. Amazing, actually."
Facing her again, one look from her told him she wasn't buying it. She knew something was off. Her perceptiveness, a trait he admired her for any other day, was proving most inconvenient at this moment.
"What are you doing back in town? You know it's not safe here for you. For either of us," he amended, aiming to distract her. They couldn't go back to how they were before. Not anymore.
She raised her eyebrows at the abrupt topic change, but thankfully didn't comment on it. "I couldn't just go without you. And then I heard about what happened to Elena… and I knew I couldn't turn my back on my friends when they needed me, so I came back. But how on earth are you alive? When I left, you were dying!"
"I'm not quite sure myself," he evaded. "One minute I thought I was dying, the next… I wasn't. It was weird," he added, scrunching up his face in what he hoped was a passable attempt at Tyler being clueless. Not that that was particularly hard.
If Caroline didn't buy his excuse, she gave no indication. She simply smiled and embraced him again, whispering in his ear, "Well, whatever it was, I'm so glad… so glad you're alive."
Klaus smiled. "As am I."
She pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. "Do you remember our first kiss?" she asked suddenly. Apparently awkward segues were their thing. "We were at Elena's birthday party, and you brought Slutty Sophie as your date." She shook her head in laughter. "God, was I jealous. You and I had been flirting all summer, and then you showed up with her, and I got so mad that I just kissed you out of the blue, and I remember thinking then that that was the happiest moment of my life, finally being with you the way I wanted."
Listening to her ramblings, Klaus wanted to gag. Actually, no; he wanted to rip his own skin off. Tyler's skin. The very disguise that, while once convenient, was inspiring a suddenly unwelcome affection on the woman in his arms.
"But this," she went on, sighing, "seeing you alive right now… it just makes that wonderful memory seem like a bad dream in comparison."
"We have the rest of our eternal existence to create plenty more wonderful memories. Together," he murmured, leaning closer. "No time like the present."
Sensing that their window of opportunity together was dangerously close to slamming shut (by his own pride, no less), he resigned himself to one final kiss goodbye before she inevitably ran back to his mutt—a boy so undeserving of the gift of immortality the Original had bestowed upon him, and even less worthy of calling this beautiful woman his.
Klaus' gaze briefly flickered from her mouth to her eyes, seeking affirmation, but he was surprised to see an iciness there that had been absent in her nauseatingly sweet narration down memory lane.
"Kiss this," she bit out.
The next thing he felt was Caroline's fist violently colliding with his jaw.
Candlelight bathed the living room of the Bennett house, casting an array of flickering shadows around them from the collection of flames swaying in the chill night air. It was one of those weird witchy things, Jeremy figured—there shouldn't have been a draft inside a sealed house, and yet, even after checking and sealing the nearby windows and doorways, a steady little breeze persisted. Magical energy surrounded them. Even someone non-magical as him could feel it. It was just one of the many things that should have sent him running for the hills (and definitely would have a year ago), but now… Now he hardly batted an eye. This was his new normal.
Good thing his threshold for the freaky things that go bump in the night was all but nonexistent now. If past experience was any indication, things were about to get way weird. Again.
Seated across from Bonnie on the floor, Jeremy watched as she took a deep breath, their eyes meeting one final time before she finally let her eyelids slide shut. Her brow furrowed—Bonnie's telltale sign of deep concentration.
"Here goes nothing," she muttered, the subtle hitch in her voice betraying her and confirming Jeremy's suspicions.
Bonnie was afraid.
Afraid of death, afraid of losing control, afraid of failing. Just… afraid.
And who in their right mind wouldn't be? Bonnie was literally going to kill herself and bring back his dead sister's spirit with her on the off chance that she'll just wake back up, and Elena will magically be human again, piece of cake. And worse, Jeremy was actually letting her do this. Supporting her, even.
Laying it all out like that just solidified what Jeremy had been saying all along: This was the most messed up plan of all time.
Unfortunately, it was also their only shot. For Elena, he reminded himself.
Pushing his own doubts aside, Jeremy gently gave Bonnie's hands a comforting squeeze. She had to be twice as nervous as he was. Beneath the soft candlelight, he saw her lips curve upward and he felt momentarily relieved. He hoped that she took the gesture as more than just a sign of support; it was one of faith. He trusted her completely.
Jeremy looked down at their locked hands, the large silver ring on his finger catching his eye. Not for the first time, he desperately wished that it would work on supernatural beings. He would have already forced Elena to take it, knowing how much of a trouble magnet she was. If only the Gilbert ring could protect doppelgangers…
Witches, too. He would shove his ring onto Bonnie's finger in a heartbeat if it would do any good. Seriously, what had Emily Bennett been thinking, creating an object powerful enough to save its wearer from a supernatural death, only to tack on a 'humans only' clause? She was excluding her own descendant from the ultimate protection. Where was the justice in that?
Jeremy kept a firm grip on Bonnie's hand, determined to protect her against the unknown through sheer force of will, whatever it took. He would not lose her. No one else was dying today.
Reassured, Bonnie lifted her chin and without further hesitation, she began chanting.
Jeremy had seen her perform spells many times before, so he had a decent idea of what constituted 'normal' in the witchy community. A gust of wind, a flash of candle flames, a bloody nose—all par for the course with difficult spells. Jeremy expected those; hell, he expected worse.
Nothing happened.
Frustrated, Bonnie repeated the incantation, but still nothing. She sighed audibly, keeping her eyes firmly shut. Jeremy rubbed his thumb across her knuckles in what he hoped was a soothing motion.
Gradually he felt the tension leave her, and after several full minutes of deep breathing, Bonnie began again.
This time, Jeremy had no doubt that she would succeed, so strong was her determination. She repeated the incantation once, twice, three times, never faltering, her confidence rising each time she uttered the Latin phrases with an expertise only the most powerful of witches could attain—and at last, the spell started to take effect.
At least, Jeremy hoped that was what was going on. With all the wind whipping around them and disturbing the delicate arrangement of candles, one can never really be sure. But something was happening, and Jeremy could only hope all the chaos surrounding them was a sign of success.
Bonnie gasped and involuntarily pinched Jeremy's hands. The candle flames roared to life, dangerously close to where they were sitting. She kept going.
Faster and louder the words tumbled from her lips, taking on a life of their own as the manifestations of her spell became impossible to ignore. Jeremy nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the window slam open, the wind suddenly increasing with gale force intensity. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched in horror as several candles toppled over from the end table, igniting her couch on fire.
He turned back to the source of the chaos. "Bonnie, you have to stop! We have to—"
The words caught in his throat as soon as he saw the first red trickle leave her nose, a ruby trail stretching all the way past her chin. Jeremy had been prepared for it, but the sight still filled him with panic. Even more than the fire growing around them at an alarming rate.
One drop became two, and two became five, and within seconds, blood was gushing out of her nose like a faucet, running down her face past her lips—pulled back in a painful grimace—and staining her teeth. It was a wonder she was still conscious.
The scorching heat surrounding them tore his gaze away from her. Jeremy glanced about the room, helpless, as the sight filled him with dread.
The fire, magnified by the relentless torrential wind, was spreading out of control. In the few seconds Bonnie's nosebleed occupied his attention, the flames had snaked their way across the couch, completely engulfing it, and were now licking their way up the curtains of her open window.
Still the wind churned faster, fanning the flames and sprouting new ones as other candles were tossed about the room. It was a miracle none hit the two teenagers sitting in the middle of it all. At this rate, the house would be a pile of ash in just a few minutes.
Whirling back to face Bonnie, Jeremy nearly balked at the sight. Blood still flowed freely from her nostrils, pooling along her neck and chest. She looked like some kind of extra from a terribly cheesy horror movie. Only Bonnie didn't seemed traumatized; if anything, her voice never sounded stronger. What she lacked in control, she made up for in zeal as she repeated the same phrase over and over. Chest heaving, she practically screamed each word, never losing momentum, like she were is some kind of intense hypnotic trance. Like she had no idea what was happening. Like she couldn't stop even if she did. It was horrible.
It was too much. He snapped.
Frantic, Jeremy wanted shake her awake, break her concentration—anything to end this nightmare once and for all. He tried to disengage their hands, but hers were like a vice around his own. All he could do was struggle in vain and shout her name like some desperate Hail Mary prayer.
"Bonnie, stop! I can't let you do this!"
But there was really no letting her do anything at this point. She was immune to his voice and everything else seated in reality. He couldn't reach her. She was too far gone. And now they were both going to pay the ultimate price for the unforgivable sin of not wanting to lose one more of their loved ones.
All of a sudden, Bonnie's eyes snapped open and her hands loosened their grip as she gasped for air. Her terrified eyes found his.
It took Jeremy a second to realize she wasn't gasping in relief. It sounded like she was choking. Suffocating. Her shaking hand reached towards her heart—
And then, all at once, the raging fire disappeared and the remaining candle flames flickered out, their light extinguished the same instant as the light in Bonnie's eyes. She exhaled one final time before she slumped over sideways.
Screaming her name, Jeremy knelt over her and automatically shoved his first two fingers into the hollow of her throat, searching for her pulse.
There wasn't one.
Stefan watched as Elena resumed her route around the kitchen, through the living room, and back again for what had to be the twentieth time. Ever since Rebekah had left the house in dramatic fashion, Elena had been pacing, desperately trying to work off the anger that came with being taunted and threatened by the person who killed you and feeling completely helpless to do anything about it. Stefan was proud of Elena for restraining herself as much as she did. Had he been in her position, he knew that his impulses would have gotten the better of him, and without someone restraining him he would have leapt across that protective threshold and gone down fighting. Elena, fortunately, was much stronger than him.
"I want to kill her, Stefan," she seethed, staring ahead as she continued wearing a path into the carpet. "I want her dead for what she did to me. For what she did to Matt! She deserves it."
Truth is, Stefan couldn't agree with her more. But Elena didn't need somebody enabling her anger. She needed someone to ground her, someone to keep her from going over the edge. He could do that for her.
So he watched from his position on the couch, resisting the urge to pull her in closer. It was better that she let out all her frustration rather than keeping it bottled up and letting it consume her over time. He would know. He had spent years repressing the urge to drink human blood, desperate not to turn into the Ripper again; and for all his efforts, the bloodlust ended up controlling him anyway—not the other way around. He didn't want Elena's fury to control her, either.
Knowing anything could set her off, Stefan kept his voice calm as he tried to reason with her. "I agree. But what if she's telling the truth? What if she's the sire of our bloodline?"
"I don't care," she snapped, and Stefan was alarmed at how much she meant it. "I can't let Rebekah ruin any more lives. What if she goes after Damon next? What if she kills him in order to get her hands on the white oak stake?"
"I've already called him three times. Still no answer," he told her, shaking his head helplessly. He had been trying unsuccessfully to reach his brother ever since the Original made it clear that she would do whatever it took to obtain the one weapon the could destroy her and her remaining siblings—including kill Damon along with the rest of them.
A ringtone broke the tension. Stefan pulled out his phone, relief settling in as he identified the caller.
"Damon," he acknowledged, putting him on speaker. "Listen, you should get back here as soon as you can. We've got a bit of a problem."
"Well, apparently misery really does love company, because I've got one more bombshell to add to our ever-growing list," came his troubled voice from Stefan's receiver. Alarm bells immediately went off in his head, imagining any and every horrible scenario possible—an unfortunate side-effect of residing in Mystic Falls.
"Really more of a head-scratcher, actually," Damon amended, and Stefan was relieved to hear that his brother sounded more annoyed than panicked. "He's not here. Not where I left him, anyway, and unless he pulled a Houdini—"
Stefan cut across him. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Alaric, Stefan, keep up."
"Damon," Elena interjected, sounding as puzzled as Stefan felt, "what exactly are you saying?"
A sigh from the other line. Never a good sign. Especially from Damon.
"I'm saying he's not here," he repeated, frustrated. "Ric's body is gone."
A/N: Dun dun dun!
Sorry for the distinct lack of Delena this chapter, but it's necessary for plot. Remember that this story is primarily plot-driven, and that everything else comes second. The romance of this story is definitely more of a slow-burn… yes, I know we already had 3 seasons of it to deal with, but we're still not quite there yet… be patient! Hopefully the Klaroline in this chapter will tide you over? Or not. Even I'll admit that it was sort of unnecessarily long. What can I say? Love those two.
So I'm curious: Is this story too slow? Too predictable? Confusing? Really really boring? I can take it! Keep in mind that we haven't gotten to the real heart of the story yet, so that's something to look forward to. Speaking of plot… Any theories as to what's going to happen next? I'm very interested to hear!
And just a reminder: Now more than ever I can't promise any sort of reliable updating schedule, as, understandably, real life has to come first. The good news is that I have not abandoned this story and have no plans to even though I'm in a bit of a tough spot right now. All I ask is that you please be patient with me. Thanks!