Whatever It Takes {Two | Alaric Saltzman}

A Bird in a Gilded Cage

The only source of light in Alaric's office came from the lamp on his desk. Occult studies talk, strictly speaking, was something they never had a hard time getting into. There were the lulls, the ones that lent their hand to different conversations, the ones that gave way to silence.

"So, where are you gonna go?"

Abigail did not look up from the papers in front of her. "What?"

"I, uh, I heard Garrison asking you about grad programs."

"I'm staying here." She shifted in her seat. "Caroline is going to need me."

She had been avoiding his eyes because they'd detect the truth the moment she met them, but even as she scribbled rather hastily, his hands, his still hands, nagged at her to give up what she knew she couldn't do, and then he spoke, "Sorry that your spring break was here instead of where you wanted it to be."

"New Orleans isn't going anywhere." Her pen was still moving, writing words less sure of their purpose than before. "But considering I can't even answer the phone without hearing that Stefan and Caroline have either killed someone or left them within an inch of their life, I don't know when I'll ever get to go."

He blew out a breath. "They are really..."

"Well, two vampires is a lot more than one." She looked up at him. "Maybe you should add that into a lecture next semester."

"I think I could work it in somewhere." Fading out of a smile, he said, "Come on, Bea, how are you really doing?"

"Seeing all the hell they're wreaking is just one big, awful reminder that I will always be capable of doing what they are doing. That I did it. That I was worse than them."

"You're not gonna let that happen again."

"Well, I did once." Softly, she dropped her fist onto the desk. "The news reports are resurfacing, you know. They don't even get half of it right because it wasn't just the people who were reported missing or the bodies I didn't cover up. It was anyone. Anyone."

"Your humanity was off and when that happens, you lose yourself. You lose the things that make you who you are." He leaned forward as if he was going to lower his voice, but it came out with the same conviction as before, "You weren't you, Abigail."

"There is this cycle after you turn it back on. And there is no way to understand what it does to you until you've been through it. A part of that cycle is resentment. Against everyone around you. Everyone. But, really, all of that resentment is for yourself." Her hand flattened itself out, finding her fingers tucked between his. "Because you can tell yourself that you weren't you. That the switch was flipped. That you lost who you were. But you're still responsible for everything you did. I am responsible for every single thing that happened over those five months. No one else. And-"

"And you've worked to make up for it. You're still working to make up for it. You will never stop." He slid his hand on top of hers. "So, uh, do you want to order dinner? It's getting kind of late and, as much as I hate to say this, we have a lot of work to do."

"You can't keep doing this. You can't ask me to have dinner. You can't ask me to stay late. You can't-" She stood up, pulling her hand from his. "You can't look at me like that. You can't touch my hand. You can't."

"Abigail..."

"No. I-" She gathered a loose stack of papers, jumbling the ones she'd work through and the ones she hadn't. "I'll drop these off tomorrow."

"Wait." He reached out for her, wrapping his hand around her upper arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's too hard, Ric. It's too damn hard." She opened the office door. "Jo..."