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lynzie914She goes back to Italy.
Caroline had always liked it there, though she preferred Tuscany and Sicily above Rome. When she wants to explore the ancient gods she goes to Greece instead. Greek Gods were far more interesting to her, she especially liked Athena Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge and Strength and all the things that Caroline wants and wishes she could be.
(She stays away from stories and statues and paintings of Persephone and her decent into the underworld.
Pomegranate seeds are so easy to come by these days, in all forms.)
She settles down in Sardinia, the island and the blue of the oceans winning out over everything else. She buys a new wardrobe full of bright colors and short skirts and white dress after white dress. She buys an extravagant apartment with a view of the sea and a balcony doors she leaves open most days to let the smell of the salty air in. She hangs the painting Elijah had sent her in the living room and she finally follows through with her plans, frames Elijah’s letter and hangs it above her bed.
Spring will eventually leave and winter will always appear; it’s a reminder of that. Caroline needs that reminder.
When she looks in the mirror she looks the most like Caroline Forbes as she has in years, but she stays Anastasia, stays someone new. She changes her last name but she keeps her accent and the history she had created for her. Anastasia takes to Italy, to Sardinia, just as well as Caroline had.
She likes it there. Spends her days keeping busy, riding horses and exploring the beaches; such a big difference from Russia and she likes it. She spends her nights searching for something to keep her occupied, someone maybe.
Eventually she finds him.
--
She’s at a bar, one she frequents often, in her short white dress and high heeled shoes (Anastasia 1.0 would be appalled to see her now, dressed in such revealing clothes, out on the prowl. Anastasia 2.0 doesn’t care. Not anymore.), when a glass of champagne is put down in front of her.
She turns and there’s a man there, smiling with dimples and dark brown eyes that sparkle with mystery, “I thought you might be thirsty.” He says.
He’s American and handsome and just a bit smug and it pulls at something in her stomach.
“I…like vodka.” She says, her accent and words perfectly done. She is Anastasia Ankudinov now. She barely speaks English, speaks only enough Italian to get by.
She drinks the glass of champagne he put down in front of her anyways. Free drinks are always appreciated and Caroline misses the taste of champagne on her tongue.
“You’re Russian.” He says, but it sounds more like a question mingled with surprise.
“You are very smart.” She says rolling her eyes at him.
“I’m sorry, I just…I thought I was going to have to use my very bad Italian on you and now…Well, I don’t know any Russian.”
Caroline laughs inwardly, but looks at him confusion.
“I speak little English.” She says. “You make little…um…gist?”
“Sense, you mean sense.” He says.
“Okay, you make no sense.” She nods.
He laughs, enjoying her bluntness, smiles at her with his eyes. “You know across the room, you looked like an angel.” He says, “I’m starting to think my eyes deceived me.”
“Angel.” She repeats and then laughs, because he is a silly, silly man. “No angels here.”
“No,” He says with a smile, “I guess not. I’m Joseph by the way. Please don’t call me Joe.”
“I call you Joe?” She asks, confused expression on her face.
“Joseph.” He emphasizes.
“Anastasia.” She tells him and then holds up her empty champagne glass. “Another?”
--
Joseph was a photographer, not famous, but successful enough. His parents died when he was twenty and had left him enough money to follow his dreams. He had stuck it out and finished college though, because he knew that was what they would have wanted. He reminded her of Elena that way, chasing after the approval of ghosts.
Anastasia didn’t understand his pain, not really, she had two distant parents who gave her enough money to live the life that she wanted until she eventually settled down with a suitable man.
Caroline understood all too well the pain of watching the life drain out of her father’s eyes and seeing her mother’s dead body after a ten year absence from her life. (She had been older, with longer hair and wrinkles around her eyes, but she was still the same mother who had searched her closets for monsters and checked under her bed for the same thing. Some things never change.)
But Caroline Forbes was buried underneath Anastasia, as far as she could be, so all she could do is nod and look regretful.
Now he travels the world at his own pleasure, selling pictures to travel magazines and papers and even some galleries. He was a nomad of a type, never staying in one place too long. She liked that about him too. Or maybe she just liked the familiarity they shared, even if she would never voice it.
He took pleasure in trying to teach her more English, was patient and kind, and laughs with her as she tries to form the words. Joseph tries to start her off easy, but Anastasia has trouble with pronunciation and when he writes things down she stares at him in confusion.
Sometimes she calls him Joe just to bother him. It makes her laugh and eventually he catches on to what she’s doing and he tackles her to the bed.
“You are most definitely not an angel.” He tells her.
“Angel I am not,” Caroline agrees, “I am…more.”
Anastasia is nothing if not confident.
Joseph laughs, his hands trailing her side. “I should call you my own personal devil.”
“Чертенок на плече” (the little devil on your shoulder), she smiles.
“See, you even speak to me in tongues, making me do all kinds of things.” His head dips, his tongue trailing down her neck, and she mewls against him.
Some things don’t need translating.
--
He loves to take pictures of her. Obsesses over it really. Calls her his muse.
“Musa?” She repeats, cocking her head to the left.
“You inspire me.” Joseph says, “Make me want…You make me want too many things.”
She lets him take the pictures, compels him to never show them to anyone else and to give them to her when it’s all over. But she lets him take them, takes that risk. Because being his muse seems far less scary than being someone else’s.
Being his muse didn’t make her feel anything other than beautiful. Anastasia preened under the idea of it and Caroline smiled shyly at the thought.
Once upon a time, this would have been all she had ever wanted.
Now she just knows eventually it will end and she’ll be left with a choice. Keep the photos hidden in a box or burn them until all that was left was ash.
Joseph is a good photographer, he deserved all his success earned the hard way on all accounts. She thinks she’ll keep a few at least.
--
Caroline wakes up to an empty bed, though she can hear Joseph’s heartbeat somewhere in the apartment. She sits up, pulling the sheets tighter to her chest; she can hear him in the living room, not in the bathroom or even the balcony like she had expected.
She drags the sheets behind her, finds him standing in the living room staring at the painting on the wall.
“I see I’m not the first person who considered you their muse.” He says, his eyes still locked on to the painting.
They had always gone to his hotel room before, but tonight she had let him come back there, it was closer to the bar and they had both had too much to drink.
“There’s a difference,” She says, “He never bothered asking, he just painted it. You always ask.”
He turns to look at her, his eyes widening slightly. “Your English was perfect.”
“I know.” She says stepping closer to him until she was right in front of him, her hand on his face and her eyes locked on his, “And tomorrow, you’ll forget everything about this.”
She kisses him then, harshly and yet sadly, because she tastes the goodbye in it. Knows the end is coming.
Caroline Forbes has always hated endings.
--
Caroline woke up with her arms around Stefan’s pillow where he was supposed to be, sunlight poking through the window and dancing around the room and over her body, giving the illusion of warmth. They had curtains, but they barely used them since they had decided to stay there permanently.
She could smell pancakes in the kitchen, so she thought she’d probably forgive him for not being there when she woke up.
She grabbed one of his button down shirts from the floor and put it on over her underwear and headed towards food. She found Stefan setting the table, his hair still mussed from sleep and flour on his hands.
“You make quite the housewife.” Caroline smiled from the doorway.
His head snapped up as he looked at her, taking her in. “Well, one of us had to be good at it.”
“Hey! I’m a damn good cook, thank you. I just don’t wear the aprons like you.” She said, taking her seat at the table. She noticed that he had put her pancakes on her plate already, had set out her favorite syrup and that there was a bowl of strawberries next to that. But there was nothing on his own plate.
“Did you already eat?” She asked.
He nodded absently, “You took longer to wake up than I expected.”
Stefan went back into the kitchen, cleaning up and washing the dishes, as she shrugged and dug into her food. Stefan was an amazing cook and maybe he was right, he did cook more than her, but it wasn’t her fault he had more time to learn to cook than her, time to study it and travel to exotic places to learn new things. She wouldn’t be Caroline Forbes if she didn’t take advantage of an attractive man wanting to cook for her.
“These were amazing.” She said bring her plate into the kitchen. “I’m thinking they might even deserve some rewarding.”
She smiled dazzlingly at him, placing her plate down, and letting his shirt slide off her shoulder as she leaned around him. “I’m thinking a shower before we head out to the farmer’s market. A really long shower.”
Stefan smiled back but it was forced. “We’re not going to the farmer’s market.”
“We always go on Sundays.” Caroline said, suddenly confused. They were that picturesque couple that other couples hated. (Minus the blood lust of course.) She kind of loved that about them.
“I know, but…” He looked away, out the window and at the waves crashing against the beach. When he looked up his face was far more determined, blank of the emotions she was used to seeing there. “Our time is up.”
“What, did this suddenly become a therapy session?”
“Klaus gave us a year.” Stefan said, the emotion creeping back in just a bit, “I talked him into giving us a bit longer than that, so you wouldn’t have to be alone on the anniversary of your mother’s death. But the time he gave us, it’s up.”
Caroline shook her head, “I don’t care what he says, you know. He doesn’t get to—”
“He does.” Stefan said. “Midnight tonight, I make a call. It doesn’t matter if I like it or not, it doesn’t matter that I don’t want this to end either. I doesn’t matter that I…None of it matters. Midnight tonight it all ends and I make that call and he knows where you are.”
It all comes crashing down on her, the truth of it all. “He compelled you.”
“I had stopped taking vervain, I didn’t think…It’s not a mistake I’m going to make again, I promise, but I can’t change what happened.”
“He compelled you.” Caroline repeated.
“To come with you, to protect you from anything that might hurt you, to call him and tell him when time was up. But that’s it, Caroline.” He took a step closer to her, his hands grasping her own, and she realized at some point she had started backing away from him slowly.
“Everything else, I promise, it was real.” Stefan said, “Everything that happened between us was real.”
“But only because he let us—”
“No, you can’t think of it that way.” He shook his head, his hand tightening around her own. “We got this time together, that we would never have gotten if you had run away again. I wouldn’t have…Please, don’t let him take this away from me too.”
Caroline nodded her head, because she didn’t blame him, she didn’t, but she still hated the idea that Klaus was still there somewhere in the background. That he would always be.
“I don’t make the call until midnight.” Stefan said, “And then I have to tell him where we are. Caroline, do you understand?”
“I…”
“Caroline, do you understand?”
The breakfast just for her, the night before when he had been so gentle, tracing her body like he was afraid he would forget it, the days before spent laughing and remembering, and splashing in the ocean water. Nothing that wasn’t just the two of them.
It had been so nice, wonderful even, and she wouldn’t forget it.
Stefan didn’t even flinch as her hands disappeared from his own and reached up to his neck, snapping it with a crack that should have been loud enough for the neighbors to hear it.
She turned around and went back to their room and packed her bag as the tears fell. Once upon a time, Caroline had been used to this, but Stefan and the last year had changed that.
--
When Joseph woke up, her clothes were already packed. Divided into Anastasia’s party clothes that she would most likely sell and the rest that she would donate. That bag was significantly smaller. She didn’t need to take them with her, but leaving them behind would just be another lead for someone to follow, another thing for someone to question.
Even if it was just Anastasia that went missing, Caroline’s description would be beside her.
“What are you doing?” Joseph asks, his voice rough from sleep.
“Packing.” She says, carefully placing one of her nicer dresses into the bag, before zipping it up.
Caroline moved around the room and to the bed, sitting down beside him.
“You’re leaving?” He asks, his eyes still clouded with confusion.
They were speaking English and he hadn’t even noticed yet.
She kissed his lips gently, before pulling away and staring into his eyes, “You’re going to take me to your studio, show me all the pictures you’ve kept hidden of me. Of us. And you aren’t going to ask questions about what’s going on. Okay?”
He nods his head, his eyes glazed over, and she closes her own.
Here came goodbye.
--
There are hundreds of pictures. Maybe more even. Joseph was never without his camera no matter where they went.
They would spend days at the beach, playing in the water and walking in the sand, and he would document it all. He would tell her to hold still as the light caught her hair just right spinning it into gold, he would tell her to act natural only to make laugh. He would have her strike different poses and she would pull him into the frame last minute kissing him and only some of the time did they make it into the picture.
“Do you have a favorite?” She asks looking over them all.
“This one,” He says pointing.
It’s a close up, her hair illuminated by the light of the sun behind her. She looks golden as her hair whips across her face.
(“You’re full of light.” Klaus had told her.
Caroline hopes someday that light will blind him, burn him into ashes.)
It’s beautiful. A moment trapped in time where she was happy and carefree and Anastasia. She was going to miss that, miss being Anastasia, light hearted and with nothing to fear.
“You can’t keep that, I’m sorry.” She says.
She looks through them, finds a few that don’t show her face, and leaves them in his hands.
“You’re going to do great things,” she tells him after she’s compelled him to forget about her, to destroy any photos he might find of her.
And then she walks away.
--
She burns most of the photos. Goes through them one by one, remembering and aching, and then watching them burn.
Caroline remembers Elena burning her house down in anger and grief. Remembers an amnesiac Stefan burning his journals, refusing to be the person they said he was. Remembers Bonnie burning the clothes she had died in.
It took years, so many of them, but she guessed it was finally her turn to burn her life down to ashes. Or parts of it anyways.
She keeps some of the photos, piled in a box that she’ll send to her storage locker, memories she doesn’t want to lose. She had quite enjoyed her time as Anastasia.
Others she keeps for specific reasons.
When the rest of her packing is done she is left with three items on the table, three packages. All addressed to Originals.
She sends Klaus’ painting back to him in pieces, long jagged nail marks breaking the seams of the canvas. Shredding it into pieces like a puzzle to be put together. Caroline wonders how long it will take for him to realize what it is. If he’ll know how she had gotten it.
She sends certain pictures she kept from Joseph to Elijah. Words written on the back and sometimes the front, taunting him.
Come and find me.
I’m waiting for you.
Don’t you miss me?
Is it really so hard to find me?
Caroline knows better than to taunt Originals, really she does. But sometimes, she’s passed caring. Some days she almost wants it to end. Other days she would give anything for the promise that Klaus would never enter her life again.
(She had given Joseph specific instructions before she had disappeared. There was a picture from when he had talked her into visiting Rome. He had taken a picture of a crowd on the street, Caroline among the many people.
She had told him to get it published. Anywhere and as many places that would take it.
It was a long shot it would get back to Klaus, but Caroline hoped it did.
Paris, Rome, Tokyo—She didn’t need Klaus to get there, she never had.)
She sends Rebekah a pair of expensive Italian shoes she had never worn. She knew she was no longer in New Orleans, but she thought that they would get to her eventually. And even if they didn’t, it still only seemed fair considering she was sending things to both her brothers.
And she thinks Rebekah would like the shoes. Perhaps Elijah could deliver them in between Klaus’s errands.
Caroline hops on the first plane to the states and leaves. Says goodbye to Italy and the life she could have continued living. That in a different life maybe could have lasted forever.
Caroline hated goodbyes, they made her bitter.
--
Caroline finds herself in Alaric’s classroom. All of the classrooms look the same really in Mystic Falls High; same desks and chairs, same blackboard and positioning, and windows that don’t open. (An illusion of freedom and a fire hazard she imagined all wrapped up in one.)
But Alaric’s classroom smelled liked vervain her senior year, so she can always separate it from the rest. She doesn’t need to look for things like globes or maps or great tombs of battles past.
Elena’s sitting on top of his desk across from her. She’s in a tight leather skirt that reaches her knees but slits up the side as she crosses and dangles her legs over the side. Her shirt is black too, buttoned up but with enough buttons open but to reveal lace underneath.
Caroline wonders when exactly her friend had turned into a dominatrix. The pointer in her hand, it didn’t help the look.
“You didn’t turn your humanity off again, did you?” Caroline asks, tilting her head to take it all in.
The other girl giggles and that’s when it snaps into place. It’s Katherine, not Elena.
“You know it doesn’t matter how many times I do it, pretending to be Elena never gets old.” Katherine smirks at her.
Caroline sighs.
“Well at least now the outfit makes sense.” She mutters.
Katherine giggles again, reaching over and adding glasses to her ensemble. “What you don’t think I look like a good little teacher?”
“Not the kind you’d want to send your kids to.”
“Well, I’m not here to teach sticky little snotty nosed kids,” She wrinkles her nose, “I’m here to teach you.”
“Teach me what exactly?”
“History.” She hops of the desk and slams her pointer against the chalkboard.
History 101
“You’re going to teach me about history?” Caroline scoffs. “Well, I guess you did live through enough of it.”
Katherine glares at her over her black frames, “I don’t plan on teaching you about the Civil War or the Nazis. I have a whole different lesson plan for you.”
When she turns back to the chalkboard, the words have changed. In their place is the names of the Originals.
Mikael
Esther
Finn
Elijah
Klaus
Rebekah
Kol
“Now, Finn and Kol are non-factors.” Katherine says, “Dead as doornails, with Elena and the rest of your friends to thank. Klaus took care of Mikael himself, which was kind of a shame, considering the chunk of my neck he took out before we could use him. And Esther is no more a threat than any of the other witches on the other side. I think you’ll be okay there. They don’t like her very much.”
Caroline didn’t blame them and Katherine nodded in agreement.
“So who does that leave us with, class?”
“Rebekah, Elijah, and Klaus.” Elena’s voice comes from behind her.
Caroline snaps around and takes her in, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, her converses on her feet, and her hair straight. Just like when they were in high school.
“Very good,” Katherine says, “I’d give you points, if you know, I liked you.”
Elena rolls her eyes and Caroline finds herself smiling.
“Rebekah’s a non-factor too. She’s off finally living life as she deserves. The worst she’ll do to you is insult your taste.”
Caroline looks down at the sundress she’s wearing and makes a face. It had been years since she had worn one.
“You picked it,” Katherine shrugs. “Anyways, that leaves us with Klaus and Elijah. The big bads of the Original family. But then you know that.”
“Which makes me wonder why we’re talking about it.” Caroline says aggravated. She could still smell vervain and the classroom seemed to be getting smaller the longer Katherine talked.
“We thought you might need a reminder.” Elena says.
“They killed us both, we have experience.” Katherine says, “Well actually Elena and Stefan killed me in the end, but I never would have ended up a vampire in the first place if it wasn’t for Klaus and that whole spilling my blood over a stupid rock thing.”
“I know better than to trust him.”
“Maybe. But do you know better than to trust Elijah?” Katherine asks, her pointer going to his name on the board. The other names on the blackboard had been crossed out, only Elijah and Klaus remained.
She is met with silence because Caroline doesn’t know what the answer is.
“Elijah is an honorable man.” Elena speaks up behind her.
“Not to mention a fabulous kisser.” Katherine says with a wistful sigh. “I do miss that part of our relationship.”
“Bad mental images.” Caroline says.
“But what do you know about him, Caroline?” Katherine asks, stepping up to her desk and leaning down like Mr. Tanner did when he was trying to intimidate students.
“I haven’t spent as much time with him as you did.” She says.
Katherine smiles again, wickedly.
“But you have spent time with him. He’s your ally against Klaus. He warns you when he’s coming and he is always coming. We all know that. It’s why you keep running, it’s why I did. Klaus never stops. And you’re scared of what will happen when he finds you.”
“Are we talking about me or you?” Caroline asks, bitch tone out in full force.
“Oh, sweetie, I knew what would happen to me when Klaus found me. Elena did too. Death and destruction, torture for sure.” Katherine smiles, “It’s why I ran and why Elena stayed, like the good little girl she was. You, Caroline, you have no idea what will finally happen when Klaus finds you. And you hate that.”
She turns away, back to the board, singing about Caroline Forbes the control freak hopped up on blood and her own accomplishments.
Her pointer hit the blackboard again, it had regressed to what it had said in the beginning: HISTORY 101.
“Now class, tell me what we know.”
“Elijah always wants what his brother has.” Elena’s voice comes. “All siblings secretly do.”
“Tatia, me, Elena…and the song plays on. And now, you belong to Klaus,” Katherine says, there’s almost sympathy in her voice. “Where does that leave you?”
--
Caroline jerks awake on the plane. Wrapped up in a blanket, her feet spread over the seat next to her. Over the intercom she can hear one of the Stewardess’s telling them to buckle their seatbelts and prepare to land.
Caroline kicks the blanket away, blinking awake slowly.
“Are you okay?” One of the other passengers asks.
He was an older gentleman, dressed in a suit, screaming of too much money. He had been watching her since she had boarded the plane. Whether he thought she was pretty or if he was wondering how she had managed first class, she wasn’t really sure. But she paid enough attention to assess him as a threat.
(He wasn’t one. Or at least not to a supernatural one.)
“You got any of those little things of alcohol on you?” She asks.
He laughs, pulls out a bottle from his shirt pocket. “I was saving it in case it all went bad.”
He passes it over anyways.
“Thanks,” She says.
She swallows it down easily, scotch had stopped burning a long time ago, but it doesn’t ease the pain in the back of her head or the echoes of a dead woman’s words in her head.
“I’d be happy to buy you some more once we land,” He says, “I travel a lot, Chicago’s airport has a surprisingly good bar.”
“I could definitely use a drink.” Caroline smirks at him.
(He wasn’t a threat, he should have better assessed that she was one.)
--
Caroline gets a job a greasy dinner that makes her wear a teal uniform that clashes with her skin tone. Though she guesses she should be thankful it’s not orange. Her name tag reads ‘Anne’ because after she first got turned she had watched Buffy over and over looking for answers to her own life in a fictional world.
(It hadn’t worked, but she had overly connected with Buffy’s character in that blonde, just wants to be a cheerleader, never asked for any of this, wasn’t given a choice kind of a way.)
She moves into the apartment that Stefan still keep there. Spends her days off cleaning it and making it more livable. Caroline doesn’t know the last time he was there (not since their Mystic Falls days) but it is no longer fit for the living. It does have a nice stock of alcohol though. Her time off is spent blaring music that makes her neighbors hate her and dancing around the house cleaning and drinking the good stuff.
Caroline doesn’t know why she ended up there. In this city or this apartment.
She was the one to push Stefan away, not the other way around. (He had been reaching out, practically clinging to her in his own quiet way, and she had handed him a ticket to Tokyo in return. Who was the monster there? The Ripper in the room? She thought she knew the answer.) It was better though; she knew that. They both did.
But she still sits in his apartment night after night, drinking his alcohol and sometimes thinking about his eyes or his smile, sometimes staring at his lists of victims on his wall.
He had burned all his diaries, but there was still a written history of his past in this place.
Some days she thinks of making her own list. There would be friends on it and complete strangers. Her mother.
The last name on it will be her own.
(She had killed Caroline Forbes a long time ago.)
--
Klaus’s blood had gotten there too late.
She was never sure if it was some clever ploy, hoping the last remaining Petrova doppelganger that defied him would die an agonizing death, or if it was just coincidence. Caroline had spent years wondering and had never come up with an answer.
Induced by a werewolf venom rage Elena had broken out of her chains, knocked Jeremy unconscious and overpowered Stefan, leaving him with a hole in his stomach where she had shoved her hand in too deep.
She had left him alive, untouched by her fangs, but with his blood on her hands she went searching for more.
Caroline had found Stefan, one of Klaus’s minions on her heels with the Klaus’ blood in his hands, and it had all gone to hell from there.
Elena had left a trail of bodies in her wake, mostly human, some vampires they didn’t even know resided so close to home. Andre (Klaus’ henchman of the hour) had called Klaus right away, filling him in on what had happened. Caroline had heard the words ‘take care of the problem’ before she had snapped the vampire’s neck.
Caroline and Stefan had chained him to the chair they had strapped Elena to, trying to prevent Klaus’ orders from being followed out for as long as possible. They had his blood, they had a cure of some form and it was only a matter of time before they fixed everything.
--
Caroline runs into Rebekah on the streets walking home from her last shift.
It was a double shift filled with shitty customers who called her demeaning names in the guise of compliments and even shittier tips. She smelled like greasy burgers and burnt French Fries and she was holding a bag of onion rings she planned to eat later, the grease already seeping into the bag.
Rebekah smirks as she looks her up and down, and Caroline wants to slap her. Turnabout is fair play after all.
“Of all the cities in all the world,” Rebekah says, smirk still firmly in place.
Caroline has heard about the rift between brother and sister, the new life Rebekah had formed for herself outside of her brothers’ control. Caroline doubts that she will turn her in, but she doesn’t know for sure.
“What can I say, the windy city just spoke to me?” Caroline says, “What are you doing in this part of town? Aren’t you getting your boots dirty?”
“Looking for food.” Rebekah says and Caroline knows she’s not talking about the kind she still has grasped in her hands. “Sometimes a good chase down an alleyway releases all the tension in your back. But now that I’ve found you…How about a drink?”
“Of the alcohol or blood variety?” Caroline asks. She hasn’t drunken from a human since the man on the plane. (Vernon Thomas, his obituary had told her. She had left him alive, but he died anyways. Blood loss. She had told him to eat something healthy, apparently he hadn’t listened.)
“Let’s start with the alcohol and see where the night takes us,” Rebekah smiles.
--
They agree to meet at a bar in downtown, after Caroline has had the chance to shower and change. Rebekah had insisted on it and Caroline had thrown her onion rings at her, hoping it left a stain on her shiny white blouse.
But Caroline preferred it anyways. She only liked wearing the uniform when she was in character and she couldn’t be in character when she was with Rebekah. Or at least not the character of Anne.
She would have to put on the face of Caroline Forbes again, figure out if that was all it was or not.
Caroline showered, her favorite part of the day recently, relaxed a little as the water sprayed down on her, and changed into her best outfit and boots.
When she found Rebekah, she still felt underdressed. Originals had a tendency to bring out all of her insecurities, Rebekah was no exception.
“I was staring to think you had skipped town already.” Rebekah says as Caroline slides into the seat beside her. “That is your MO after all.”
“You’re not the one I’m running from and I kind of figured if anyone understood the urge, it would be you.” Caroline says.
She flags down the waiter and orders a martini and a lot of shots, because she knows this is a night that will require enough alcohol to actually give them both a buzz. The waiter sits the shot glasses before them, as well as the martini, and leaves the bottle of tequila.
He’s not her type, but Caroline thinks she would sleep with him for that alone.
But maybe that was the loneliness talking. Most of her time was spent at the diner, and she had friends, but no one to come home to, no one to check up on anymore or call late at night over trivial things. Mostly she and the other waitresses bonded over the repulsiveness of some of the customers.
“I got the shoes you sent,” Rebekah says, “They were surprisingly lovely.”
“If it makes you feel better, I can tell you the shop girl helped me pick them out.” Caroline snarks.
“No need, you do have good taste in some things,’” Rebekah says, “I know that. I just don’t like saying it.”
She crinkles her face in distaste, as if the words were fowl in her mouth, and takes a quick shot.
“I was surprised you sent me anything at all.”
“I sent packages for your brothers, it only seemed fair. Besides I wasn’t using them.” Caroline shrugged, downing her own shot.
She missed the days alcohol burned going down, gave her a feeling that was new and powerful, instead of just being a reminder of what and who she was now.
But then, if she had stayed human, maybe she would have drunk just as much, become another Carol Lockwood, glass always in hand and vodka hidden in her lemonade at social functions, and it wouldn’t have been all that different. She might have even ended up a Lockwood herself.
“I heard about that,” Rebekah says with a laugh, “You sent Klaus confetti in the form of his own work. God, I should have thought of that myself.”
She seems positively delighted at the idea of it, laughing with a full blown smile that Caroline had never seen directed her way.
“And in a shoe box to boot. I wish I could have seen his face when he realized what it was.”
“Elijah told you?” Caroline asks cautiously. She doesn’t know what Rebekah knows about her relationship, or whatever it was, with Elijah and she doesn’t want anything to slip.
“Yes, though he didn’t find it quite as amusing as I did.” Rebekah says, “Apparently Klaus flew into a rage, destroying all of the artwork he was working on. Even the ones that didn’t include you.”
Caroline got a vindictive pleasure out of it, a victory of sorts that she could still hurt him as much as he continued to hurt her.
“Apparently he slashed them all up and threw them into the streets; made a big ruckus.” Rebekah continues, “I’m almost sad I missed it.”
The almost represents a lot that Rebekah will never say out loud. Not to Caroline. But Caroline thinks that it means she can trust that Rebekah won’t tell her brother about her fantastic find in the Windy City in the near future.
“Personally, I think it had more to do with the gift you sent Elijah.” Rebekah says, her eyes locking with hers, “Though he never told me what he received.”
A taunt, but Caroline doesn’t tell her that.
“Just some pictures of my time in Italy, I thought he might appreciate them,” Caroline shrugs non-committedly. The lie slips out easily and she thinks that the real Caroline Forbes really has been replaced by this act; the old one could never get by so easily with deception. “And I liked the idea of Klaus not being the only one to get a gift. It seemed…”
“Poetic?” Rebekah suggests.
“Justified.” Caroline smiles.
They down two more shots and she thinks they understand each other a little better somehow.
--
“So how’d you end up here?” Caroline asks, stirring the olives in her martini. She’s barely touched it, but she likes having it there for something to do with her hands.
“I always liked Chicago, and well, I wondered what it would be like without my brother’s interference or scheming.”
“What do you think of it so far?”
“I like it, but sometimes it’s dreadfully boring.” Rebekah sighs. “It was more fun in the twenties, when St—it was more fun the first time around.”
“Well, you can always look for some other place to live, somewhere less tainted with memories.”
“Trying to get rid of me already?” Rebekah laughs. As though Caroline could actually accomplish that task.
“No,” Caroline shakes her head, “I just think despite all of the horrible things you’ve done, and there have been a lot, you deserve a chance to be happy. Everyone does. If Chicago doesn’t make you happy, if it’s too different, go find someplace else that does make you happy.”
“Says the girl that makes Katerina Petrova look like an amateur when it comes to running. Never staying in one place too long, always altering everyone’s memories so they don’t even remember you were there.”
“I’ve stayed some places for a while.” Caroline says. She had been certain people for extended times too. “But your brother always chased me away.”
“Which one?” Rebekah asks and she seems genuinely curious.
“Both of them.” Caroline says and she takes another shot.
--
Rebekah shows up in her doorway a few days later. Caroline is dressed in her uniform, her hair in one long braid to the side, with sneakers on her feet; ready for work.
“That really is an unflattering color on you.” Rebekah says peeking behind her to see what Caroline had done to Stefan’s apartment.
There weren’t many changes, she had cleaned more than anything, scrubbed all traces of blood away and chased down every dust bunny and spider that thought they could hide from her. Everything else, she had kept intact. (She hadn’t known Stefan back then, knew she wouldn’t have wanted to, but it still felt wrong to change things. Though she had organized his books and lugged in a refrigerator. He could thank her for that later.)
She doesn’t bother asking Rebekah how she knew Caroline was staying there.
“Is there a reason you’re here?”
There’s something in their interactions that make her think of all those years ago, the two of them on cheer squad together, sometimes bickering and sometimes working together to make the routines perfect. It was an odd sense of déjà vu she wasn’t sure she liked.
“I was bored, so I decided we’re going shopping.” Rebekah says.
Caroline scoffs, rolling her eyes just to make her point further. “I’m going to work.” She tells her.
“I already compelled your boss. You’ll get whatever measly pay your supposed get for your day’s work and a little extra for tips. Don’t worry, he won’t miss it. He skims off the top.”
“I know,” Caroline sighs. She knows her boss is not the best of men, certainly not perfect, but he’s nicer than John from Kansas, always taking in strays who needed the money. She doesn’t mind working for him.
“So, we have all day to spend in all the fabulous stores this city has to offer.” Rebekah grins.
Caroline feels like she should probably fight it, or at least act like she was, but it seems simpler to give in.
But maybe that’s just the loneliness talking again.
--
Shopping with Rebekah is more tiring than she expected. And this is from Caroline Forbes, shopaholic, queen of every store in Mystic Falls and all the surrounding areas, and a woman who has bought a new wardrobe every time she has changed homes, changed lives.
Still Rebekah was exhausting. And bossy. And so very particular about everything.
She demanded that Caroline try things on and then judged them, sometimes incredibly harshly, belittling the staff that had picked them out. She had Caroline watch as she tried on dress after dress.
“I’m going through a dress phase.” Rebekah had said. “All I want to wear is dresses. I think I’m finally fully adjusting to this whole revealing clothing thing that happened when my brother daggered me.”
“Well, you have nice legs, so it works.” Caroline had said sipping at her champagne.
“I quite think so.” Rebekah said before disappearing into the changing rooms again.
They continued on, store after store, and a compelled driver taking their bags from them and storing them God knew where. They had come in a limousine (and Caroline had felt like they were in some weird version of Pretty Woman, the original or the remake), but even so, she didn’t know where it all went.
Rebekah paid for it all, a black credit card appearing in her hands at just the right moment, and only allowing Caroline to buy coffee for them both when Caroline started complaining about feeling drained. Caroline had protested of course, she had money, plenty of it, despite her job. She didn’t need someone to take care of her. But Rebekah had just rolled her eyes and said the least she was doing was taking care of her, she was just buying things she liked. Things that would just happen to belong to Caroline when this was all over, but that didn’t seem to bother her.
Eventually, the shops started to close, and Rebekah seemed content with what she had gotten done for the day. She had her driver drop off Caroline and her bags at Stefan’s old apartment and had followed Caroline up the stairs.
Caroline was still trying to sort through bags when Rebekah came back into the room with a bottle of Stefan’s wine.
“You know I used to spend a lot of time with Stefan here.” Rebekah says, somehow managing to gracefully flop down into one of the arm chairs. “Before Nik found out about him. This reminds me a little of that now.”
All of her class, and looking down at others, and Rebekah took a swig right out of the wine bottle. Caroline couldn’t help but giggle to herself.
“He said the two of you ran into each other a while ago, was it here?” Caroline asks. She gives up her hopes of sorting for the night and swipes the bottle out of Rebekah’s hands, taking a swig of her own. It was old, vintage, and tasted just right.
“No, Australia of all places. In some bar. Something out of a movie, I suppose.”
“He said he didn’t get the best reception.”
“I might have shoved a metal rod through his stomach,” Rebekah shrugs, “But it’s not like it was wooden or anything. When did you see him?”
“A little while ago. Years maybe by now, I don’t know. I don’t really keep calendars.” Caroline takes another drink before passing it back to the other girl, “I saved him the metal bar, gave him a plane ticket instead. Told him he couldn’t stay.”
“Worse, some would say.”
“Self-preservation others would say.” Caroline says. She can almost hear Katherine saying the words.
(“Better you die than I.”)
“If you chased him away, why are you here?” Rebekah asks.
“Because I’m running out of people to run to.” Caroline repeats Stefan words, “I’m…I don’t have a home anymore. This…it seemed like the best option at the time.”
“Stefan is your home now.” Rebekah says and Caroline expects it to be bitter, catty even, to hide the jealousy underneath. But mostly there is just understanding.
“He’s the closest thing I have left.” Caroline says grabbing the bottle and making a mocking movement of a toast towards her. “But you know how they say you can’t go home again.”
--
Rebekah spends the night, like some twisted parody of a sleepover two seventeen year old girls would have. Sneaking booze and talking about boys. She hogs the covers, and pulls at the sheets, and Caroline doesn’t doze off until somewhere around three.
When she wakes up, Rebekah is gone. No note on the pillow telling her to expect her back eventually, and Caroline wonders if she will ever see her again.
Caroline gets up, showers, puts on her uniform and heads to work. She goes on auto pilot, her false grin turned on automatically when she had arrived, and she has the menu memorized so it’s easy to keep track of everyone’s orders. Her feet hurt by the end of the day and she can only imagine the human waitresses that work there and how they must ache and she feels a little bad as she walks home.
When she unlocks her doors and comes inside, it is just as empty as she has left it. Bags still in the corner, clothing waiting to be hung in her closest in a color coded fashion. But no Rebekah.
Caroline decides she will never see her again. Or at least not any time soon.
She puts thoughts of Rebekah and her brothers behind her, showers, and then starts to redo her closet to make room for all her new purchases.
--
Almost a month later, Rebekah shows up on her doorstep again.
“I’ve decided to take you advice.” She says.
“Umm…What advice exactly?” Caroline blinks at her. She had been sleeping, after a double shift, and she wasn’t exactly fully awake yet.
“I’m going someplace else, somewhere with less history, someplace to make me happier.”
“I’m glad,” Caroline says and she means it, she really does.
“If you see Stefan, you’ll tell him I’m sorry about the rod.”
“And if you see him, tell I’m sorry I wouldn’t let him stay longer. That I—just tell him I’m sorry.”
Rebekah nods.
“He’ll find you eventually, it’s just who my brother is.” Rebekah says quietly, her tone softening even more. “Just be prepared for it when it happens.”
“I am.”
Rebekah laughs softly. “Back in the day, I could always spot a liar, Stefan especially. I think he might have rubbed off on you.”
She hands Caroline a piece of paper with a list of numbers scribbled on it. “If you need it…There’s a witch on there, drop my name and she’ll help you, even if it’s my brother you need help from. The other two numbers are mine and Elijah’s. I can’t promise I’ll keep this phone but it’s been years since Elijah has changed his number. If you need something, he’ll protect you.”
“You sound so sure.”
“He was the one who brought me the shoes.” Rebekah smiles.