Hi, kittens. :'( There were so few reviews for the last chapter...more would be nice...please. *insert over-dramatic sobbing*
Translations at end.
"I don't know how he did it," Klaus says, his fingers pause in their path across the back of my arm. "There is a strength about these vampires that does not make sense. It is not physical, not corporeal. Yet I felt him holding me in place with a force that is difficult to comprehend. My body was frozen, my senses non-existent, I was not even sure I was alive. There is an extreme sense of defeat in being unable to feel anything."
I close my hand over his, bring it to my lips. "I'm sorry," Sorry for his experience, sorry that it cost us Hayley, sorry that I blamed him for what he couldn't help.
My own memories ring bitter.
He shakes his head and blinks, drawing himself out of the memory. Klaus's free hand continues to trace my skin. I sigh. "And yet somehow I heard her screaming. I knew she was in danger and I could not move."
"Klaus-"
"You would have died along with her." The Original states coolly and for a moment his eyes flash dangerously. I bite back the words I hadn't even prepared to say and wait. I'm good at waiting. "I have no doubt they could have killed all three of us. But you," his touch wanders up my arm and comes to rest on the curve of my neck. The touch leaves tingling trails in its wake. I breathe heavily as I lean into the touch. As I always do. "When you attacked Jane the vampire grew distracted. He was not used to battle, was not aware of the mistake he made. I've been in enough wars to call him but a child. It is a mistake that even under normal circumstances can be life threatening, but he chose me as his opponent and I've never been too good at mercy.
"It was worse as I had something to fight for this time. It was not a convoluted effort for my emotional expression as most of my battles tend to be – pointless ripping, destruction – although I admit that my desire to make sure you survived was purely selfish in nature."
"I don't mind." I tell him, searching his magnificent eyes for the reason behind this discussion.
It's been a long while coming, truly. It was only a matter of time before we spoke about that day. And although I never thought too deeply on how it would happen I did not think it would be like this. I cannot complain though.
Even if our relationship has broadened and his touches have become more frequent, his kisses more eager, emotionally I've been the open one. The expressive one. Not to say Klaus does not rely on me, because he does and there are times when he'll look at me and without words I'll know. He needs a hug. He needs me to say 'I love you'. He needs me to smile. He needs me to be pushy about sharing a meal. He needs me.
And no matter if it's one in the morning of two in the afternoon; he'll seek me out when he gets news from a sibling or if he accidently finds himself on the verge of burning down the house. He won't say anything. He'll sit across from me at the kitchen table, lean against me as I read in bed, watch me from a bar stool at the Grill. I don't know how or why, but I've become the anchor in our undefined relationship.
It's ironic because I'm the emotional mess, I'm the one who cries and gets angry and tells Klaus he's being an asshole when his cool sarcasm hits a bit too close to home.
And yet he leans on me, relies on me to read the emotions he doesn't know how to express.
The touches are an important part of it too. Klaus always has his hands on me, at one point in time I might have thought it sexual, but honestly it's nothing more than kinetic comfort. His hands are generally in my hair, on my arms, fingers entwined with mine, sometimes he'll trace patterns on my back – patterns I've seen him sketch on paper time and time again. There are moments when he'll trace my face, but that usually leads to kisses, to moments of shared smiles and shared breathes.
Rarely, he'll speak about what's really upsetting him. He covers the panic in his eyes with recounts of the centuries he's lived. I now have a much better understanding of history than most historians probably do. I know the small scars on his body intimately, each has a story and those stories are ingrained into the way he watches the world and reacts to it. It's beautiful.
When Klaus delves into a matter that's got him upset, he becomes intense and angry - whether it's something tiny like running out of his preferred ink or something as great as Caroline returning to Mystic Falls. When he recounts his feelings he does it with purpose, he hopes to gain some insight, some reaction, set in motion a certain outcome. Not comfort though, not sympathy or pity, he believes himself above it – undeserving.
What he could be hoping to achieve by discussing the day of Hayley's death, I don't know. I have a million possibilities but don't bother thinking on them too deeply. When Klaus wants something he makes sure to obtain it.
Where our skin touches my blood sings. Where his eyes settle on me, it scorches. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if…if…
I blink the thought away. Ridiculous, keep your mind out the gutter.
"I never did express to you the joy I felt in ripping his throat out. Granted, there was little struggle. His moment of inattention cost him his life, a life I would sacrifice again to have you here. But even then I was too late." He pauses and his thumb runs over the beating pulse on my neck. He presses it lightly. "I found Hayley first. I prefer not to remember her that way; she'll always be vibrant and full of life in my mind. Nevertheless, emotion overcame me and I allowed my body to shift – I've not done this for quite some time, you must understand. I took on my wolf form for the first time in years, it was glorious.
"There's a certain rush to hunting prey as an animal. As a man death seems inevitable, necessary, a product of emotion. But as a wolf it becomes a way of living, survival, obligatory in pack endurance."
He makes a sound bordering on a growl and it automatically makes my chest expand, my eyelids lower.
"Those merdaille threatened my pack," his hand tightens and my breath catches, it loosens and moves to the nape of my neck. "He made me feel helpless," I've never hear that word sound so repulsive, but Klaus manages it. "Jane took from me, something I can never have back, and she almost took you as well. They deserved more than the death they received."
"I know," I say, trying to soothe him, the fire in his eyes. It's reminiscent of when we met, when anger was all he showed me. But I can see the hurt behind it now. Again I don't know what has caused it. I brush my fingers over his forearm.
"You almost died in my arms." He says this then freezes, expression changing so suddenly that it takes me a moment to process it.
"Klaus?"
His other hand comes up to touch my neck, settling over the pulse. The intensity of his blue gaze scorches me. "I almost lost you. You've heard me speak, I am a monster at best and I don't know why you remain here."
I blink rapidly. "I'm not sure I understand." We've had many spats on the topic of my being with him. He has moments of weakness, insecurity maybe, something. He tries to convince me to leave him, to find another love, but in the end he always tells me to stay. This time feels different though, this time does not seem like he'll ask me to move on. Rather, it feels like he's telling me he's glad I haven't.
"Those minutes, frozen in nothingness, where I could do nothing to help you, nothing to help Hayley... They were the most terrifying of my existence. But you freed me from it. Then you lay in my arms, lifeless, but you came back to me. I very nearly lost you of my own violation again, but you insisted on staying. And you stayed. And stayed. Here you are now." The hand on the nape of my neck plunges into my hair. "You stayed and ripped me apart with each tear you shed, pieced me back together with each smile. Your touch chased the shadows from my soul, scorched the memories of loneliness from my mind.
"I never give you anything." He tells me this as if he believes it, the frown between his brows suggesting he does yet doesn't know why.
I shake my head. "You give me plenty." A home. A love. A chance at a future. Happiness. Company. Laughter and tears. Heartache. Sweet, plentiful heartache. And reason to live.
"Not enough. Never enough." He sighs, "I will try though,"
He seals his promise with a kiss. It sets fire to my blood, my skin, to everything until all that is left is Klaus. Klaus's hands and lips, his breath on my cheek, his eyes searching my soul, his chest and his hips, his teeth on my neck and his declaration in my heart.
He holds me like fine china.
"I'm not going to break." It's a whisper in the brightness of burning sunlight. The world around us like a talisman of his endless adoration, the tender hold of his arms.
"I'd rather not take the chance."
His breath is a whisper of my name.
"I'm okay, it's just a scratch."
The line of his mouth says otherwise. There's murder in his gaze.
"Klaus, it was a bloody tree, it's not like it attacked me."
"I can still cut it down for hurting what's mine, Leah."
His mind is tormented and dark.
"Stop it! Damnit, Klaus! Stop!"
He shoves me back and returns to the pointless ripping. The pages fall around us like snow. He's a beautiful avenging angel, tempted by Lucifer, stripped of his wings.
I wrap my arms around him and chant how much I love him. When he tires of ruining his past he slumps into my hold and cries for the first time.
"Kol…cannot be dead, Leah. He cannot."
He finds joy is the awareness of life's unpredictability and sorrow in his inability to fade in it.
Mrs Hendricks is buried next to Mr Hendricks. The attending party is small, children and grandchildren gently whispering fond memories over the lowered casket.
Klaus never knew her, but he insisted on joining me. From the look on his face you'd think they were friends.
"To fade away and die." He says against my hair later that evening, making my attempts to get ready for work far harder than it should be. "To grow old and allow time to hand you over to Death."
He takes to calling me 'liebling'.
His eyes lie.
"Trust me," I laugh, tugging at his hand.
"You will be the death of me." His voice is a growl, but he allows me to lead him.
The pet shop is abuzz with 'Puppy Adoption Day'.
"We don't have to buy one." I admonish with the roll of my eyes.
The first puppy we greet nips at my fingers and I offer Klaus's fingers in exchange to pet the next one. Despite the rigidity of his shoulders his gaze shines with joy.
He finds my delight liberating.
"She's beautiful," I mutter, entranced by the sleeping child in my arms. She's only a few weeks but already she looks like Emily. A wordless gurgle parts the babe's lips and I lift my head to grin at Klaus.
He touches my cheek and I can see an answering smile in his eyes. "You are beautiful, liebling."
He's amused by my anger.
"I'm leaving!" I hiss, trying to claw his arms from around my body and failing.
"You are not." He hums against my ear.
"I hate you!"
"You do not."
I snarl. "Why not?" I demand, "Caroline offers herself up on a platter and you take it. I don't need this shit!"
"Liebling, I helped her put on her coat."
His commitment is silent, but passionate.
"I love you," I whisper, turning my head in the darkness of the moonlight.
He clutches my hand with bruising intensity and his mouth crushes mine. He doesn't have to say it back for me to know. It's written in the slow caress of his lips, the careful whisper of 'Leah' under his breath, the cautious motion of pressing out bodies closer together.
It screams 'I love you too'.
Merdaille – this is an old French insult meaning 'scum'
Liebling – German for 'darling'