Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter! It didn't go in the direction you might think it did, and I promise to try and update ASAP! Lots of flashbacks and lots of Klaus's thoughts in this chapter. Please let me know what you think and please forgive me for taking so long to update :) -Cheers
Caroline point of view
I feel like I'm going to be sick again. I think there's still vomit in my hair from the first time. I clutch my phone in my right hand, checking the time for the thousandth time since taking this seat next to the window. It's deadly quiet here.
Wow. Nice choice of words Caroline.
The orange sunset peels through the blinds and shines brightly in my eyes. It can't have only been forty minutes since I found him...
"Klaus?! Klaus wake up, open your eyes, what happ—Nik? Can you hear me!? Open your eyes!"
Another wave of nausea hits me and I stand up, clutching my arms around my stomach I push hard, as if I can crush this aching hole in the middle of my stomach, as if I can erase the last hour of my life from my mind. Waking up, seeing him there; not being able to stop screaming; Elena and Stefan ripping my fingers off of his shirt sleeve...
"What's happened to his face?"
"Looks like chemical burns. Help me lift him."
"Why aren't they healing?"
"Get his legs—Caroline let go."
"I don't understand."
"He's been poisoned, Caroline; you have to let us take him."
"Is he dead?"
"No. It's not like that, he's most likely...I'm sure..."
"Elijah!"
"I don't know! Someone take Caroline, she'll just get in the way."
But I can't.
I remember everything down to the last gory detail; and I have to run to the bathroom, because the bile is choking me and I can't breathe at all.
XXX
The night before...
"I'm sorry I didn't get you a proper present." I'm propped up against the headboard of his huge, comfortable bed, the thin sheet pulled across my otherwise naked body. I'm tired, and blissfully contented. Klaus is opposite me, his shoulder pressed against the frame at the foot of the bed, his head in his hand, propped up on his elbow. He looks perfectly at ease, sex hair and all.
"I'm not." His accent, mixed with the flattering words make my stomach twist and untwist.
Biting my lip because I don't know how to respond to that, I poke him in the ribs with my toe.
"You never told me how old you are." I subtly divert the attention back to him.
With a sigh, he pulls the sheet to the side, moving up the bed towards me until he's settled beside me, looking me in the eye.
"Caroline, this kind of party is not an annual thing for my family. I honestly can't remember having a celebration so extravagant in my honour."
"That's sad..." I state, combing through his curls with my fingers. He needs a haircut. His brows furrow ever so slightly, as if my words take him by surprise; like he never considered the lack of celebration of his life to be something to lament about.
"Though I think your lack of balloons and cake for the past century or so might have something to do with you boxing and preserving your family." I add, lest we forget. His eyebrows raise, I think I've surprised him with my blatant stating of the truth.
"So why this year? Why the big party?" I press, turning onto my stomach, I mimic his posture, then push my hair out of my face.
He pauses, pursing his lips slightly as he thinks through his next words carefully. "Well, with the sort of family we are, it was only ever the big things which we made a show of." Still no straight answer.
"So... this was a significant birthday then...?" Asking him his age is like pulling teeth. Why doesn't he want me to know?
Raising an eyebrow at me, he grabs me around the waist. I squeal with surprise as he flips me over so my spine is pressing into the mattress and he's looking down at me, his eyes on my chin, my mouth, my eyes.
"Let's just say it's the big one." He states vaguely.
I frown, thinking hard. And then it dawns on me, "Ooh..." I say quietly, trying to wrap my head around this new information. "The big One-O-O-O?"
Klaus just chuckles, silencing my shock with his lips on mine.
"Hmmm..." I murmur against his mouth, his tongue dancing against mine. "So you're like super old then." I mumble through kisses.
"Mmm..." His hum vibrates through me and he shifts himself to hover over me, our legs tangling in the sheets.
I laugh breathlessly, "it's three AM!" I push against his chest, his lips reluctantly leaving the skin of my throat, "I can't believe you haven't had enough."
He doesn't answer; he just lowers himself onto his forearms, his fingers in my hair, his body enveloping mine in his warmth. He plants lazy, hot kisses under my jaw and beside my ear.
"It's my birthday."
"You're a thousand, doctors say its way past your bedtime." I giggle, tugging on his hair till he looks up at me.
We stare at each other for a long silent moment, our sleepy eyes seeming to be glued to one another. Moving his hand from the bed sheets he interlocks his fingers with mine. With my free hand I comb my hands through the front of his curls. His eyes drift closed and he moans mutedly, the way he does when I play with his hair, and lets his neck tilt to the side.
"God you're beautiful." I breathe, biting my bottom lip, I tilt my head too.
"That's you." He murmurs, letting his neck relax and his head roll forward, resting his forehead on my abdomen.
"No," I reach for his jaw, lifting his head until his sleepy blue eyes meet mine, "you're beautiful."
XXX
Klaus's point of view
Control is fragile, more delicate than people recognize it to be. It is difficult to hold onto, but surprisingly easy to obtain. Fear is harder. Fear coils and withholds; fear has holes and fear makes mistakes. I've made mistakes.
"Caroline, you're beautiful, but if you don't stop talking I will kill you."
I've been hungry for control for as long as I can remember. Craved the feeling of power ever since the day my father drove his knuckles into my ribs, into my lungs, beating me till I was too weak to cry for help. I don't remember the age or the time, just the feeling of utter and compete humility. Loss of power; loss of control; loss of everything.
XXX
"You prefer who are you now to the girl you once were... You like being strong. Ageless... Fearless." She looks scared, but somehow I doubt that. Her eyes are glass, and her feet are planted. She won't move.
I take a step closer to the invisible barrier.
"We're the same, Caroline."
"Then show me." She breathes, her voice quiet in this empty house. Frail bravery painted on her face. "You know how much I love Tyler. You can see how scared I am to lose him." Her voice is thick with the tears she fiercely tries to hide from me. "If you and I are so similar then, show me your compassion!"
She talks as if she's in control, yet her fear trembles in her voice, in her fingers. I watch her, observe her humanity running wild.
"Show him the mercy that I would show you."
Her words fall into the air between us like a heavy weight. The truth is plain, she is a kind person. Maybe the kindest I've met. But her unrealistic hopes are there, and she sees them as much as I do. She says she believes in me... But her pain is already there. Her doubt is already present; and it's making her stronger.
"Mercy." The word tastes bitter in its context. It feels fragile on my tongue, like I could bite it in half. "For Tyler." But this is what she thinks she wants. This is what she's asking for. And I have all the control.
"Very well, tell him to leave town immediately." I turn my back on her, walking away from the relief I've made appear on her face. But I can't look away for long. "And tell him to run, and hide in a place I will never find him." My blood pumps fiercely with each word.
"Of course." There's that relief; that hope. She nearly smiles as she turns, getting ready to leave.
"Tell him that this is the mercy that I extend for your sake." But this is not mercy at all. "That I will give him a head start..." Because I may be trapped, I may be crippled by this spell, "Before I kill him." But I still hold the power. I will always have the power.
And when she turns around, it's plain to see.
I am still in charge.
XXX
"Why aren't they healing?"
"Get his legs—Caroline let go."
Life is harder. Pulling through without a scratch is impossible.
I used to think life was precious. That life was worth fighting for. And then, after years of fighting, I forgot why I had cared enough to run in the first place.
I can't even help myself. I can't tell them the story of last night. Of the white oak and of Clara. I can't even tell them that they're not safe. That she is not alone. That she'll be back.
She's not finished with me; or with anyone I care about.
"You're strong you're beautiful, you're full of light... I enjoy you."
XXX
"How do you think that you deserve my friendship when you've done nothing to earn it?"
Rage spikes through me as her words sink in. Skin deep.
"I will not have my hand forced by you or anyone else!" Manipulation is messy, and low, and I can smell it for miles. She thinks she knows my weaknesses, she thinks she can control me because I care. Because I care about her.
"What is wrong with you!? I am reaching out to you despite everything that you have done, and you still can't get out of your own way—GOD, I feel sorry for you."
I do not want your pity. Pity is for the weak, for the hurt and the broken. I feel pity; I do not receive it. I am not weak; I'm angry.
"Don't turn your back on me!"
"I should have turned my back on you ages ago!"
And yet she stayed... Yet here she is, waiting for my word. For my promise; for me to earn her friendship. No matter how much she may scream, her feet stay planted on my floor. In my house, in this town, in my life...
And I still have the power to walk away. To hunt Tyler; to ruin everything.
I still have the power...
XXX
Caroline's point of view
"What happened?" Elijah's eyes bore into me like steel rods, my stomach is in knots, my head pounds from the panic.
"Nothing," My voice is hoarse and I can hardly hear my own words, "We were just..." My memory is fuzzy, and my eyes keep drifting to the closed door that I know he's behind. I need to see him. But not like that. I know if I see him like that—weak, unable to speak or move, his skin burned, unable to heal...
"Caroline, focus. Did anything seem out of the ordinary?"
Elena's hand touches mine, and it's hot in comparison to my skin; feverish almost.
I shake my head, fishing for details.
"He—" I remember pushing him away in the study, teasing him. "He seemed... less strong, like..."
"Weaker?"
I nod.
"What's going on?" I whisper, my breath hitching in my throat, a sob choked in my lungs.
"I think he's been poisoned." Elijah runs a hand through his usually perfect hair.
"Well that's obvious." Damon. When did Damon get here?
"I mean long term, over a period of time. You all know my brother well enough to know he's not easy to hurt, let alone paralyze." I try hard to focus on the words that he's saying, but my heart is in my ears. "This has to be something else, something stronger than magic."
I blink my dry eyes. I ran out of tears to cry hours ago.
"So what do we do now?"
Rebekah reaches over, crushing my hand in hers and I flinch. The silence is deafening.
XXX
Klaus's point of view
I can hear them talking. I wonder if they know I can hear each painful word.
The white oak clings to my lungs, pumps through my veins, burns through my skin. The helplessness is staggering and my hands shake. Rage tears through me like fire. I imagine myself taking the sides of Clara's, holding her tightly, too tightly, and listen to the snap of her spine. Picturing the way her body would crumple to the ground under my hands.
Caroline is panicking and no one knows what to do. I never know what to do, so I just stay close, stay quiet, let her speak her worries into me; it seems to help.
Why isn't anyone trying to help?
"Maybe you should go find someone less terrible that you can relate to..."
I can hear her fast breathing and the rapid beating of her heart... But I can't move.
XXX
"What you can do is you can tell what this thing is you have with the witches."
"We're back to that?"
"Yeah, we're back to that."
"You know I owe you everything I got. But I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one." He speaks as if he thinks he can hold things over me. Like he's enjoying this power trip he's on. Like he enjoys knowing things that I don't, and it's making him drunk. "This is my business. I control the witches in my town; let's just leave it at that."
It's nearly humorous.
Nearly.
"Your town..."
"Damn straight."
Now I do actually laugh. But it's bitter and short, and my hands prick with adrenaline.
"That's funny. Because when I left a hundred years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down—and now look at you! Master of your domain..." What a joke. "Prince of the city." You are nothing.
It's gone silent now. Marcel has lost all of his humour from before. "I'd like to know how."
He cocks his head, "Why?" my hands fist, "Jealous?"
The room is buzzing. Energy pulsing around me like bass, pumping through my like venom.
He smiles, "Hey man I get it. 300 years ago you help build a back water penile colony into something. You started it, but then you left. Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through, huh, look around. Vampires rule this city now! We don't have to live in the shadows like rats, the locals know their place, they look the other way. I got rid of the werewolves; I even found a way to shut down the witches."
All I see is a small little boy. Weak, trembling, with whip marks down his back... Scared.
"The blood never stops flowing and the party never ends." My hands stop shaking, my anger drains, and I'm staring at a little boy in big kids shoes.
"You want to pass on through? You want to stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine. My home, my family, my rules."
I draw in a long breath, his words bending through the air, warping, moving through me.
"And if someone breaks those rules..?"
There are holes. Holes in his knowledge, holes in this life that he's built for himself; holes in his perception of me, and what I'm capable of...
"They die."
And there it is. The ugly, gaping hole in his plan. Something I can control. Something which I can manipulate; he don't know me at all.
"Mercy is for the weak, you taught me that too." I watch him as he watches me. He's panicking. And he doesn't even know it yet. "And I'm not the prince of the quarter, friend. I'm the king!"
But he's not.
He's nothing. He holds no cards against me. He's can't touch me. He's just a young boy; drunk, high...sick with power... only he's drowning. He's losing grip and he's in way over his head.
"Show me some respect." He spits the words out, as if he's in a place to demand things. Demand my respect.
I hold respect for few people in this world... I used to hold respect for this stranger in front of me. But what he's done; what he's become. It's not worthy of respect. He's not worthy of the control he has over this city. Each person in this room...
Someone shifts behind my right shoulder. A helper of Marcel. His blood is diluted with intense amounts of booze, he's slow, and he's there.
Without a second thought, I turn, sinking my fangs into his neck. I don't drag his blood from his veins like I usually would. I don't care about the thirst. I let my venom burn through the fresh wound, scalding the skin and seeping inside, before letting him fall to the ground.
I turn, savouring the shock on the faces of the people around me.
"Your friend will be dead by the weekend." Control. "Which means, I've broken one of your rules." His helplessness is nearly painful to watch, his reality setting in. "And yet I cannot be killed." I step close, my anger gone, my body is numb. "I am immortal."
And I know I've won.
"Who has the power now? Friend."
XXX
"Klaus?"
Caroline.
"Can you hear me?"
I can hear you.
"Tell me what you need..."
I can't answer.
"Tell me what to do..."
She's sobbing and I can do nothing. I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't kill Clara. My blood boils and my rage runs thick through my veins.
I'm never out of control.
This is me. Out of control.
So it was a little different... Hope you all still like it and review! Will be coming out with another one soon!