A/N: Yes! Two and a bit months after When The Bleeding Stops and we finally get our Later. Maybe I should be working on my incomplete, full-length fics, but I'm on vacation until mid-January, so I've got some time to relax and this story has been fun to write.
This is going to be a three-shot, filled with adventure and blossoming love. Unlike in When The Bleeding Stops, These Things That Heal will be told mostly from Klaus' POV, with a portion in part three switching to Caroline's. It takes place a few months after the completion of When The Bleeding Stops, just in case anybody is curious. Other than a few curse words here and there (and an extremely mild, was-that-really-a-sex-scene sex-scene in the next chapter) there's nothing outrageously obscene to be warned against.
I have no beta, so expect mistakes! Also, I'm not the biggest TO follower. This means I've probably gotten either facts, personalities, or places completely muddled, but I've tried my best to research everything I've been unsure about. Please keep in mind that this is one-hundred percent an AU story!
I have no updating schedule either, and the completion of this story depends on when I get around to editing the next two parts. I am sorry about that. Really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Promise.
Okay, I think that's enough of me rambling. Without further ado, I give you the first chapter of These Things That Heal.
Chapter One:
Security Breach
He'd reluctantly become familiar with the foetus he'd created growing inside of Hayley. Maybe he'd never truly appreciated Hayley, but somehow, in some strange way, he admired the calmness with which she carried his—no, wait...their—child.
And then the baby wasn't there anymore. The kicks stopped.
Hayley had come to him, sobbing. She'd never wanted this. The only reason she'd slept with him in the first place, allowed him to fling her over that table and mindlessly fuck her, was because she wanted to make Tyler jealous and she needed someone to cure her of an aching need. Same as the only reason he even paid attention to her in the end was because he didn't have a particular blonde vampire there to stroke his ego.
They didn't care about each other, but there was no denying the connection they shared. It wasn't some deep, profound thing. He still couldn't stand her. Her voice was winey and she was always butting her head places it didn't belong. But together they'd created life. And that was strange, considering he was as dead as they come.
Their child was the only thing that kept him from tearing her head from her shoulders. Even though in the thousand odd years he'd been on the earth he'd never wanted a baby, what king would turn down the possibility of having an heir?
When he saw her, blood dripping down her thighs and a wild, terrified look in her eyes, he knew what had happened. Before she opened her mouth, he knew.
There was no future king or queen of New Orleans—of the world—any longer.
Hayley had packed up her bags that night. Wiped her legs and kissed Elijah's cheek before running off into the unknown. New Orleans was never hers anyhow. She never belonged with them.
He felt her loss, though. It crept on his shoulders as the days passed.
But he didn't miss her. He missed only what she represented. What she held within the confines of her belly.
His chance at finally taking over this ruddy city.
Maybe it was cruel of him to think of his own child as a bargaining chip, but Niklaus Mikaelson was nothing if not cruel. And homicidal. And unlovable. But that's what the baby was. An upper hand. A chance to break through Marcel's walls and take control.
Deep—deep, deep, deep—down, Klaus questioned if he did miss the child. Truly miss it. Miss it like any normal human would.
Perhaps he did, but even Caroline Forbes wasn't going to get him to dig that far into his gut.
He'd told her as much, each time she attempted to ruin their days by asking how he was doing. How he was coping. Whether or not he was grieving yet.
Apparently she knew all about grieving.
He remembered those few months ago when Stefan had called him. He'd been chatting with Camille then, hadn't he?
He hadn't seen Camille in a few months. Not that he'd been looking. He wondered if she'd left town. Been rebuffed one too many times, the appearance of Caroline Forbes too much for her human heart to handle.
He didn't miss her. Not like he thought he would. He had his blonde now, his true blonde. The blonde that rescued him without either of them realising it. The blonde that cleaned his home with her bare feet tucked beneath her bottom, arms jerking as she scrubbed the disgusting floors upon which he'd killed so many innocents. So many evils.
She would sense him watching her most times and peek at him over her shoulder, a too-kind smile dancing over her mouth. That mouth he didn't get to kiss enough. Because he was so afraid of his own anguish. So afraid he'd lose her again.
Seeing her lying half-dead on the Salvatore's sofa, veins blackening against awfully pale skin, had awoken some uncontrollable emotion from its slumber inside of him. He didn't want to see her die. He couldn't allow that to happen. And God, in that moment he felt so utterly weak. When did he allow her so much control over him?
Ha, he knew exactly when. The moment she'd screeched at him for harming Tyler while his sister held her back. The first time he'd really gotten to hear her voice.
And he'd manipulated her countless times. Kidnapped her, bitten her. Held her and her loved ones ransom. And yet here she was, with him. She slept in his bed. She kissed his cheeks. His lips, when he'd allow it.
She hadn't run yet. It didn't seem as if she'd ever run.
He couldn't decide if he loved her for that, or if he hated her for it.
She still had the scar. He'd seen it, once. By accident. After he'd walked in on her, naked from the waste down. Normally the sight would have turned him on, excited him, but his eyes found the bunched skin immediately and he'd walked away before she could feel embarrassed about him having seen her. Before he could scamper off to find the wolf that had harmed her and tear it to shreds.
Of course, his wolf side had harmed her as well. Hadn't it? Ripped a piece of her flesh away from her neck. The neck he so often found himself staring at, because he so desperately wanted to kiss it.
But that was different. It had to be.
Then, all those years ago, he hadn't really know her. He was infatuated with her, jealous of her bond with the Lockwood boy. And he bit her, only out of spite.
But he hadn't let her die. And maybe that was weak of him. But she'd always been his weakness. He was beginning to see that now.
Why else would he have travelled so far, so fast, just to save her life?
Did he love her? Was that love? Saving someone helpless to save themselves?
Was that why she was here? Because she loved him, and he was helpless to save himself?
He never spoke to her of these things. They were too personal. And it didn't matter that she'd completely packed up her good life in Mystic Falls just to come to him. That was her own fault. He was protecting himself by keeping a safe distance from her. If he allowed himself to give into her allure and bright smiles, her inquisitive looks and lustful stares, then she'd be able to crush him. Completely.
He never promised he'd talk. He never promised her anything.
Liar! a voice shrieked at him.
He'd promised her so much. Too much.
He promised her the world, at one point. When he didn't yet know that she would be his downfall and his saving grace.
He promised her he'd never hurt her, when he thought saying those things might get her to look at him without the hatred that burned so bright in her eyes when she caught his monstrous gaze.
He promised her he'd never come back.
He promised he'd love her for all time.
He promised her later.
How many of those promises had he broken?
Probably all of them.
Because he was a king, and kings were notorious liars.
And he was old. And tired. And he'd lost his reason to keep fighting.
"How's it going?"
"Um…it's okay. I think."
"You think?"
"He's—he's not talking."
"At all?"
"No, he talks. Sometimes. But not about anything…important."
Klaus stood motionless outside his bedroom. The door was closed. Locked, he assumed.
Caroline was in there, chattering to Stefan Salvatore. About him.
He stepped marginally closer to the wooden frame, refraining from pressing his ear against the door.
"Are you regretting going there?"
Klaus would never admit it, least of all to himself, but his breath lodged in his throat, stubbornly unmoving, as he heard Stefan's concerned voice asking Caroline the question he repeatedly wished he could ask himself.
He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear her answer.
"No, of course not. It's going to take a lot more than a brooding Original to make me wish I hadn't come. Besides, Elijah's been accommodating enough."
Klaus let out an unnecessary gasp. Relief spiked his blood at Caroline's admittance, though another jab of jealousy hit him as well. Damn his brother and his Old World charm.
He ignored the jealousy in favour of the positive, just for a moment.
She wasn't going to leave him.
(Yet.)
And he couldn't describe how happy that made him. Because he needed her there, even if she didn't know it. He needed her to stay, to keep him warm in the dark even as he refused to wrap himself around her body during the night.
"Then what's the matter?" He heard Stefan ask, the nosy bastard.
Caroline sighed behind the door, and he heard her start pacing. She always paced.
"I need him to start talking. I can see he's upset. Hurt, even. And I can't help him heal if he doesn't talk to me."
Klaus backed away from the door, quickly and silently, acid falling into his stomach. Caroline had never seemed to mind his refusal to talk. She would ask a question, he'd ignore it, and then she'd smile.
And he'd smile back.
Perhaps his smile was not the only one that was full of emptiness.
"It's only been a few months, Caroline. He's suffered a lifetime of pain. It'll take a little while to get him to open up. Don't give up on him."
Klaus hated that Stefan was speaking of his sorrows. As if he knew anything about them.
He hated that Caroline had called him to ask for advice. He hated that she was now agreeing with the Salvatore, saying, "Yes, I understand. But I wish he would hurry up and get over his pride so I can help him."
Get over his pride?
Pride?
Niklaus Mikaelson was a lot of things, but he'd never thought of prideful as one of them.
No, the Lockwood boy was prideful. Damon was prideful.
He was cynical, and evil, and he had been known to possess a slightly inflated ego, but he stayed well away from pride.
Pride only ended up hurting everyone. It always led to turmoil.
He was not prideful.
He just didn't want Caroline to see him weak. At least not anymore than she already had. And opening up, something he'd never been very good at anyway, was one of the worst forms of vulnerability. It displayed a person's fragility. Made them appear damaged.
He crept closer to the door, wanting to hear Stefan's reply. Would the Ripper correct Caroline?
"What are you doing, Niklaus?"
Klaus startled at the intrusive sound of Elijah's voice. He turned around.
"I was about to go into my room," he covered quickly. He frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"You've been standing out here suspiciously for the last five minutes. I was concerned," Elijah said.
Klaus sneered at his older brother. "How would you know?"
"Do not act childish, Niklaus. A cleaner saw you. She told me when I asked where you were."
Klaus wanted to immediately snap the neck of whichever cleaning person it was who'd ratted him out, but as he started to move away from his bedroom, Elijah grabbed ahold of his arm and tugged him back.
"What?" He snarled.
"Calm down," Elijah ordered. "We must talk. It's urgent."
Klaus looked at his bedroom door out of the corner of his eye and wondered what could possibly be more urgent than listening to the conversation going on inside, but nonetheless allowed Elijah to guide him downstairs and into the dining room.
"What's so important?" Klaus demanded as Elijah let him go.
Elijah looked around the room. At the pictures lining the walls. He seemed nervous.
"Spit it out!"
"It is Marcel," Elijah said gently.
Klaus raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What about him?" He hoped the man he once thought of has his protégé had perished gruellingly.
"He has…been made aware of Caroline's existence."
Klaus blinked away the redness threatening to cloud his vision. His blood boiled in his veins.
"Who the FUCK told him!" Klaus shouted before he could help himself. Upstairs the pacing ceased.
Klaus heard his bedroom door open and knew Caroline would soon be in the room with them. Sure enough, not two seconds later, Caroline's small frame flashed inside the dining room.
"What's happened?" She asked, dressed in her flimsy pyjamas. He had forgotten the day had only just begun.
Klaus saw her phone in her hand and contemplated snapping it. Just to teach her a lesson about discussing him behind his back to people who held no right to have any opinion about him.
But he refrained. Because he was beyond angry, and he was afraid he might end up hurting her more than he already had in the years since their paths crossed.
Klaus didn't wait for Elijah to answer Caroline's question.
"Well?" He barked, noticing his whole body begin to shake. He grabbed the back of a chair and held on tight.
Elijah cleared his throat, unamused by Klaus' outburst. "We do not know, and I do not think it matters. Niklaus, he has begun to make threats. Thinly veiled threats."
Threats.
The word zipped around Klaus' mind as dizziness took hold.
"Klaus, what's going on?"
It was Caroline. He felt her hand encapsulate his wobbling shoulder.
No. This wasn't happening. No harm could come to her. He'd only just gotten her. They hadn't had enough time.
But now his enemy knew.
"How much does he know about her?" He growled, ignoring Caroline.
She didn't speak again. She simply thumbed his shoulder until he stopped trembling.
Christ, he really was weak.
"He knows she is here," Elijah informed him. "Has been here for some time. I do not know how much of your history he is aware of."
Elijah looked between him and Caroline, and Klaus could see the sad concern in his brown eyes.
"Klaus," Caroline said, his name sounding so beautiful falling from her sweet mouth. "What's wrong?"
"You should tell her, brother," Elijah said, serious. Grave.
Klaus knew he should listen to Elijah. He should tell her. Not just about Marcel, but about everything.
But he shook his head. "No. It doesn't concern you," he said without looking at her. Caroline removed her hand from his shoulder and he felt cold all of a sudden, a stark contrast to the heated rage he'd been experiencing nanoseconds ago.
"Niklaus, this concerns her more than it concerns any of us," Elijah scolded.
"No!" Klaus snarled. "It's concerns me. Me and Marcel, and this stupid feud! We do not need to bring her into this! I won't allow it."
Elijah opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by an enraged scream.
Both Mikaelson's looked at its source, wide-eyed.
Caroline had gone red in the face, her fists balled at her sides in anger. "Somebody tell me what the hell is going on right now, or I swear to God I'll pack up my suitcase and head back to Virginia!"
Klaus had to give Caroline credit. She always was so very good at making him do things he didn't want to do. At manipulating him. He'd always known she possessed great amounts of strength, but she seemed to surprise him at every turn.
"My enemy," Klaus began slowly. He was seething. Shaking once again. "One of my enemies has recently discovered that you exist, and that you are here, with me, in New Orleans."
He saw his beautiful baby vampire gulp. "Is that a bad thing?"
Klaus nearly laughed. But the situation was too serious to be mocked.
"Honestly?" He checked, making sure she knew what she was getting herself into. She'd been a part of supernatural wars before, but Marcel wanted blood. He wanted victory. And he would stop at nothing to get it. His goal was to obliterate Klaus, and Caroline was a direct line to his black soul. Without her, now that he had her (even if he didn't really have her), would kill him. Destroy him wholly.
Things had gotten worse since Klaus arrived and declared war. Marcel's bloodlust seemed to increase daily.
"Of course," Caroline said firmly. "Tell me." She was looking right at him, her watery blue eyes full of hurt most likely inflicted upon her by him.
She must care for him on some level. How else would he be able to harm her without so much as touching her?
"He wants to capture you," Klaus said softly, as if speaking quieter would staunch the graveness of his words. "And then—then he wants to kill you."
He watched Caroline's eyes blossom. "Why?" She gasped.
Because I love you.
"Because…you are important to me," Klaus said.
Caroline took a staggering step in his direction. He was used to seeing her brave. Fighting. Only four times in the years they'd known each other had he witnessed her hard exterior falter. This marked the fifth.
"What do we do?" She asked, careful not to touch him. He wished she would. Break the rules he'd given to her without using pointless words, and coil herself around him. He didn't care that Elijah was with them, he needed to keep her safe. And if touching her—holding her—meant that he could protect her, he would allow it.
Elijah started speaking, "Niklaus and I—"
"—No," Klaus interrupted. He turned to face his brother. His big brother. His voice of reason. "I'll take Caroline somewhere safe. Just me and her. Just for a little while. Then I'll come back, and we can take down Marcel."
"Klaus, I can help—"
Klaus whipped his head around. "—Caroline, I need to keep you safe. Marcel is dangerous."
"So are you," she said, and he winced, because she'd said it so fast.
"I would never intentionally—" but he stopped himself from finishing the sentence. I would never intentionally harm you.
He already had intentionally harmed her. Countless times. Whether through an attack on her friends, or a straight forward attack on her.
How on earth did she find it in herself to trust him? He wouldn't trust him. If he were her.
"Caroline," he breathed, moving closer. He took one of her hands in both of his, like he had done after she'd helped rid his mind of Silas. He'd been desperate and sweaty then too. Caroline looked up at him, brows pulled together. "Please."
Caroline studied him for a moment. Klaus thought he heard Elijah leave in a puff of smoke, but he was too focused on the blonde in front of him to pay much attention. Her eyes followed every line and curve of his face. She moved to his neck, his chest, until she reached his feet.
Her eyes found his again. They were gentler this time.
"Okay," she said, and he exhaled sharply. He knew she'd resent him for asking her to run. Caroline Forbes was a warrior, but he wasn't prepared to send her into battle. Not against Marcel. "Where do we go?"
Klaus thought for a moment, contemplating which property he had acquired over the years would be safest. An idea fell over him.
Gently, so the walls couldn't hear, he said to her, "Maine."