Darkest Temptations Chapter 34, a vampire diaries fanfic

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Darkest Temptations

Chapter Thirty Four: Collective Grief Part I

Caroline Mikaelson

I stepped out from the front door of the lodge my mom and I had rented for the week in Montana and looked out to the array of horses eating in the distant fields. I was wearing a heavy beige cardigan made of fine cashmere over a pair of grey wool trousers and a white cotton t-shirt. On my feet I wore a pair of light brown ankle boots. I'd showered that morning, and I could still smell the fresh scent of lime and jasmine lingering in my hair, which was nestled together beneath a hair clip at the back of my head, off my shoulders. The air smelled sweet, and I took a deep breath, savoring the moment. I walked down the wooden steps to the fire pit and sat down on one of the empty chairs. A gust of wind sent a flurry of leaves swirling across the yard, the faint rustling of their movement only serving to add to the overall serenity of the scene. There was a storm set to rip through Maine that week, and so we'd decided a vacation was just the ticket for us. The lodge was the ideal setting; the nearest house was over five miles down the road. The only thing surrounding us was mountains and vast, empty fields as far as the eye could see. I enjoyed the silence; it suited me in ways I couldn't put into words. For a long time there, my life had been so consumed with so many people, so many voices, that it was nice to just focus on my own.

I crossed my legs out right in front of me, leaning back into the comfortable ease of the chair as I stared up at the mountains, seeing the cracks and flaws of each and finding beauty in each of them. Every day there was something new to discover, from a stream hidden behind a thicket of trees to an ancient rock formation shaped like a hand. Nature was always changing, always moving forward, never stopping. The beauty was in the constant state of flux, the impermanence that made everything all the more precious. It was in these moments that I found solace, peace in the knowledge that I was part of something larger than myself, a part of this world. I was sleeping better at night now; the first week after showing up on my mom's doorstep in Maine in the dead of night, I hadn't slept through the night even once. I kept waking up in a cold sweat, jerking upright in bed as if my subconscious remembered I'd left the oven on or heard a noise of some kind. I wasn't plagued by any of my dreams; I rarely dreamt about anything, and that's what worried me. I was slowly finding peace within myself and becoming stronger, but my spirit remained fragile, and I often felt like I could shatter at any moment. I went for a walk that morning as my mom prepared us some breakfast; she encouraged me to go for walks every day, even when we were back in Maine.

I enjoyed the fresh air; there was something about Montana that seemed to rejuvenate my mind, body, and soul. My mom was right about many things, one of them being that I needed this break away, and I needed a good long rest. The night I'd shown up on her doorstep in the rain, she'd embraced me. No doubt she'd been plagued with questions to ask, but she'd just held me for the longest time. Since then she encouraged me to take time for myself, to learn to appreciate the silence the way she had; she believed that being alone with your thoughts did more work than a therapist could do.

I'd left Utah almost a month ago, taking the station wagon and driving across the country to Maine. I needed the time to think; a flight would have been over before I knew it, and there was something about this car and the open road, almost as if it was made just for these exact purposes when it was needed most of all in someone's life. I hadn't left a note, which I regretted; I had accidentally left behind my new phone, I didn't know the number for it, and we didn't have any landlines set up in any of the houses, so reaching out had a lot of complications. I couldn't ask my mom to use her connections in the force; I didn't want anyone tracking her line and finding out where she was. Mystic Falls was still a threat to us and may always be, and I needed to shield her from that.

My mom had said that when the time came to tell her what was going on, that I would. I appreciated that she wasn't pressing me for answers; she was letting me come to her in my own time. But the truth is, I didn't want to talk about any of it, not yet. If she knew about my decision to enter into polygamy, she would try to dissect and analyze it to death, and I just couldn't handle that right now. I needed time to process, to come to terms with what I'd done and what my future held now. I knew our address back in Utah; I could have written to any of them and explained that I was alright and not to worry. But I just couldn't find the right way to word the letter when I had no idea how to tell them I had no intention of ever returning home.

April Mikaelson

"I need three rashers of bacon, two eggs sunny side up, and a slice of toast." I called out to the kitchen.

I turned my attention back to the customers at the counter and began topping off coffee where needed, keeping my head down and not locking eyes with any of the bikers or truckers who would test even God's patience. I'd been on my feet for thirteen hours; I was working a double shift, and the diner was just starting to fill with the breakfast rush. I'd been working at "The Pit Stop" for the past month; it was a 50s-type diner with bizarre health violations and nonexistent management. My uniform always stained consisted of a white shirtwaist dress, which was one size too small and always pinching, along with a pink and white checked skirt apron. I'd kept my head down since the first day; the other waitresses were a lot older than me; they smoked during shifts and flirted with the bikers and truckers. No one really talked to me, besides telling me to pick up the pace or to get out of their way.

I struggled to keep up almost every day, still finding myself crying in the restroom almost twice a week when it became too much to bear. I lived in an apartment almost an hour and a half from the diner, though with the buses around Monroe, Louisiana, it took almost ten and a half to get home. Nothing about my life had been easy since I left Utah; no one had tried to call me. I'd taken my phone with me as it was untraceable; I charged it every night, often waking up in the middle of the night to check it. I understood why no one reached out; they were angry about me leaving them without a word, just the note I had left for Klaus in our room.

It wasn't an easy decision to leave; it was one that I regretted. I'd never felt so alone, so disconnected with everything and everyone around me. Every day I found myself listing my regrets: I should have taken more pictures of us all together, I should have told my family how much I loved them, and most of all, I should have thanked them for everything they had done for me. All I had now were my regrets; I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of despair, and there seemed to be no way out. Every day was the same, no surprises, no joy, just monotony, and it felt like it might just kill me.

I made my way to the restroom wanting to wash my hands after clearing away a table of used dishes and a total of five ashtrays; smoking was supposed to be illegal in diners, but here at "The Pit Stop" it was a daily occurrence. I walked into the restroom and went straight over to the sink to wash my hands. I looked down at the sink; it was littered with hairline cracks, rust, and what appeared to be a little mold around the edges of the faucet. I ran the water, looking down at my scar as the water spilled over it. My scar was going to be with me forever; it was from the night in Mystic Falls when we performed the spell. It had never healed properly and it never would, it was another reminder of what I'd lost, not that I needed it to remember.

Using the sink mirror, which was no bigger than the size of a large compact, I redid my two braids that my hair had fallen out of. I used some bobby pins I had in my pocket to keep them in place. I didn't wear makeup or perfume; I wanted to be invisible to the guys who ate here. They weren't exactly easy to handle; they were intense. I straightened up and fixed my apron before heading back out, making my way behind the counter and collecting my order for table twelve, making my way there, sliding the plates down along with their bill. I looked over at the booths, finding a new group of guys was sitting in my section. I collected my notepad from within the pocket of my apron and my pencil before making my way over to them.

There were five of them, all heavily tattooed and wearing leather jackets. They weren't regulars; some of them were wearing bandannas and the rest of them were wearing their caps back to front.

"What will you have?" I asked as I stopped by the booth.

They all turned to look at me, their eyes lingering on my face for a moment before they started to look down the length of my body, making me cringe within myself. One of them whispering into the ear of another and pointing at what I feared was my chest as I began taking their breakfast orders. I kept my head down, not looking up until I was sure they had finished, and then quickly turning around only to have one of them strike my butt with his hand, I froze but didn't turn around. They all started laughing as the one who had touched me said, "I'd tap that."

I quickly made my way back behind the counter and pinned their order on the ticket wheel; the kitchen was busy that morning, and it was going to take a while for their orders to be ready. I couldn't stop myself from shaking, my heart was racing, and my mouth had gone dry. I'd had to deal with sneer comments and lingering eyes, but this was the first time someone had ever touched me. I placed my tray down on the counter and ran my fingers over my forehead, pushing my hair back before looking up at the clock, finding I had another hour left of my shift.

It may as well have been ten.

It took me five buses to get back to my apartment every day. I'd done the math, and besides walking, it was the cheapest option; the subway would have cost me an additional twenty dollars a week, and I was barely making the rent even with pulling double shifts. I lived on the tenth floor of my building; the elevator had been broken since I moved in. It wasn't maintained; there were cracks in the walls, cockroaches, rats, mold, and the damp was terrible. But it was all I could afford; it was a studio with a bed, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom, which was more of a closet. I made my way inside, immediately putting on the deadbolt and the other two locks I had. I never felt safe inside my apartment; I never felt safe anywhere other than Utah.

I hung up my uniform on one of two wired hangers, which I kept dangling from the door of my bathroom; there was no closet, and I had my clothes in a cabinet in the kitchen. I changed into a pair of cotton sweats and a heavy oversized jumper I'd bought at a vintage shop. I settled down onto the edge of my bed, not having anywhere else in the apartment to sit besides the floor. The walls were painted in a hospital green, and the framework around the window was painted a blood red that matched the doors. I was always cold, often draping the bed duvet over me within only an hour of returning home.

Another day was over, another day without anyone I cared about, another day without purpose.

Elena Mikaelson

I kept the same distance I did every morning as I followed Jeremy on his way to college; he didn't know I was here with him in New York, and it was going to remain that way. It wouldn't have been right for me to do that to him; I would have done it for my own selfish reasons, and he didn't deserve that. It was freezing in Manhattan that morning; I was glad to see that he had wrapped up well; clearly, he'd unknowingly used Klaus's money to buy himself decent winter clothes, since the air here cut you like glass with every turn.

He looked content; I hadn't seen him smile the way he was now for a very long time. He was establishing a life here, not knowing he'd been here before; those seven months were lost to all of us. This was the time I'd missed seeing, when Manhattan was still so brand new to him, but already it was having such a positive effect on his attitude. I remembered from the updates I got on him each month that it was only during his second month here that he got his job at the coffee shop, so any day now I knew he'd be going for his interview. I couldn't interfere; he had gotten the job before without my help, and he was going to do the same this time.

This was the only time of the day I spent with him. I didn't want to risk the possibility of bumping into him, so I was renting a small apartment way downtown where I was making the rent by dog walking and babysitting for my new neighbor. I'd used the money I had on me the night I left Utah to get me to New York; what was left remaining, I'd offered to the building owner to rent my apartment without providing her with identification. I knew no one would come looking, but I'd just grown used to protecting myself, and it was a difficult habit to break. I'd had my purse with me; I had all the cards Klaus had provided me with, but after a month I still hadn't dared to use one or to even check if they had been canceled yet or not; they probably were, but I preferred to live in the unknown.

It wasn't easy leaving Utah; I'd stayed at a motel just a few miles from our houses the first night with the full intention of going back in the morning. But in the morning, when faced with the light of day, I just couldn't bring myself to be strong. I'd walked out on the people who had promised to hold my hand through the worst period of my life, who didn't judge me for leaving my boyfriend without a word, for compelling my brother, or for entering into polygamy. I'd been in Manhattan for almost a month now; if I didn't have Jeremy to see in the mornings, I would have struggled to get out of bed. I missed my family; no matter how twisted our lifestyle had been, they were my family. Whenever I thought about that night we packed up and left Mystic Falls seven months ago, I thought of the strength I felt when I took those last few steps towards the station wagon, when I could see April and Caroline, and I knew we were off.

I hated how weak I felt now, how tired and lifeless. I'd been almost extraordinary that night for not breaking down, for faking my own death, and for packing up my life into just a few bags, which I carried across town in the dead of night with nothing but hopes for the future. I wish I could find that same strength; the girl I was that night would never have left Utah; she would have figured out a way to get past her own insecurities and look at what she had around her instead of fearing what others might. I hated myself; I really did hate myself for judging Caroline the way I had in the beginning, for judging her for forgiving herself so quickly over Tyler, for sleeping with Klaus, and for embracing the reality that she was in love with someone. How could I have judged her when I'd fallen in love with Stefan despite Bonnie voicing her concerns about him almost daily? I'd fallen in love with Stefan even after suspecting that Damon was physically abusing Caroline, recalling seeing the bite marks on her neck that night of the founding families dance. It felt so long ago, but it was a prime example of how similar Caroline and I were at times. We fell in love with two guys who weren't right for us. We'd been brutally honest with one another when we wanted to leave our home towns, and when we got to Utah, we both started to feel something for Klaus that went against all logic.

I'd been jealous of Caroline; even during our first day in Utah, she'd held it together so well while I thought I might just throw up. Everything just seemed to come so easy to her; I wanted her to tell me she was struggling, that she was consumed by the same level of guilt that was threatening to destroy me, and that she had thought about going back to Mystic Falls. But in that first week something happened, something shifted between us, and looking back on it now I knew it was completely my own doing. When I thought of the amount of times she'd checked in on me, when she'd asked how I was and I'd lied to her face over and over again. I was ashamed of myself; I could almost cringe at my own behavior. I got worse when I discovered they'd begun sleeping together; I'd almost walked in on them, but their moans had stopped me in time. I should never have told Klaus I knew; I should have dealt with it like any sane adult would and kept my mouth shut.

I wasn't exactly sure when I had begun to feel something for Klaus; I'd been so worried that I was losing myself in all the small moments we had together. Moments Caroline and April were unaware of, moments he'd kept between us, like our first kiss, he'd told me it was my choice whether or not we'd take things further; it was always my choice with him, and in the end I chose to give him my body; it was my heart, however, that I'd kept locked away from him. I was the one who ruined it all; I didn't know what they would all think of me now. I'd shed a tear that morning when I realized tonight was the night we had all marked in our calendars; tonight was the night Klaus was supposed to be taking us to Seattle for dinner and the opera.

As I walked up the stone steps towards my apartment building, I began to wonder about them, if they were all still planning to go together or if it had been an event that my disappearance would have ruined for them. I did want to know how they were all doing back home; I couldn't bring myself to even say goodbye to Caroline or April before I left, just one of many things I regretted about that night. The idea of their pain, of seeing my house each day and being reminded of what I'd done to Klaus, it must have pained them greatly; I wouldn't blame them if they never forgave me. I knew I'd never forgive myself.

I'd destroyed my family, and all because I couldn't admit that I was terrified by how quickly things were moving between Klaus and me.

That I was terrified that I might be... falling in love with him.

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