Bad Blood || The Vampire Diaries [1]

22: The Ties That Bind

   As the Save Elena Squad brought all kinds of problems to Mystic Falls, I kept my eyes on my problems. While they brought back Mikael—who once killed me in Manhattan, New York— and still planned on how to kill Klaus, I wrote down the information I had found out about Gwenhwyvar. She was a friend of the Original vampires, a good one at that. Rebekah had told me that even though Klaus liked a woman named Tatia—who was Elijah's first love—he loved Gwenhwyvar. She showed me a drawing of her, and it was almost the same as the first one I saw in 1887. It was just her head, her eyes looking right at me, but the details were amazing. You could see the little specks in her eyes, the little cracks on her lips, the strands of hair that had escaped her braids. The detail was to point, and Rebekah commented how Klaus drew her from his memory because art was a talent he had acquired after he turned. 

   Since that night, I had not seen Rebekah. Who I had seen was Klaus, when I pleaded with him to save Caroline from Tyler's bite. From kinky, it suddenly turned deadly. Matt was the one that called, and then I went to plead to Klaus to save her. I told him that I would do anything, give him anything, and he only wished for my company. So, after he saved her, I gave him my company. 

   "Rebekah gave me my memories," I told him, leaning my head back on the seat. He had been driving around, only stopping to get gas. I guessed that he wanted to speak to me without being interrupted by a revenge-crazed Stefan, who had taken the coffins and hid them. "She gave them to me and told about Gwenhwyvar."

   "Ah," he chuckled, "of course she would do that. My sister, filled with compassion. So, do you remember everything?"

   "Every little memory you took away from me," I said, turning my head to him. "Especially... I remember Greece, Klaus."

   His smile fell, and was replaced by straight lips. "Greece, huh?" He licked the inside of his lip and nodded, as if he didn't want to believe what I was telling him.

   "Aigio, Greece, 1995," I told him. "There was an earthquake; there was smoke and fire everywhere, and through it all you found me. You laid your hand on my shoulder, spun me around, and I was surprised to see you there. You said Elijah invited you for a vacation, and you were irritated because you picked a great time to arrive."

   Klaus chuckled and nodded. "You told me to have some respect for the dead."

   "Which you didn't," I recalled, pointing at him. 

   "Which I didn't," he laughed. "You couldn't blame me, love. There has always been dead around me, a little more didn't bother me." His laugh died down, and he stared straight ahead. "You said that we needed to find Elijah, and I told you no."

   "You told me Rebekah was daggered," I continued for him, "and that you wanted to dagger Elijah as well. Then, you told me that you were only supposed to care for your family, but you somehow found yourself caring for me. You blamed me for making you care."

   "Well, it was your fault."

   "And then you compelled me to forget all about you and the rest of your family, except Elijah," I finished, staring at the side of his face. Not once had he turned to look at me as he continued to drive, and it made me feel strange. "You said that I wouldn't remember who you were, what we were, and you would start to hate me. Did you hate me, Klaus?"

   As I waited for his answer, I got anxious. I got my memories back, which meant that I remembered each bit of happiness that I spent. Klaus was included in those moments of happiness, and they felt great. Thinking that he hated me, that he still hated me, was strange. It hurt. It hurt a lot. 

   Klaus finally turned to look at me, his lips nowhere near a smile. I couldn't read how he felt. And, then, he said, "I still hate you for making me care, Clara."