Bring Me To Life | The Originals (1)

A Closer Walk With Thee

A/N: All sections written in italics are hallucinations.

Grief; deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.

Everybody experienced it differently; some buried it deep down within themselves and refused to acknowledge the pain, masking it with a layer of denial. While others basked in the reminder of the past, they celebrated the life that the deceased had lived and clung to those they loved in case they were the next to fall. There was no right way to handle the pain because when you lose someone, it stays with you, like a permanent wound carved on your heart, a constant reminder of how easy it could be to lose someone else in your life.

Rousseau's was packed to the brim with members of the community who were mourning the loss of Father Kieran by participating in an Irish-style wake in his honour, complete with Irish music playing loudly over the speakers and lots of alcohol flowing freely from bottles. People gathered around to share stories of Father Kieran, only speaking of him in the highest respect, and celebrating his life with laughter and excessive amounts of booze.

Klaus Mikaelson glared absently at his glass of scotch where he sat alone in a booth in the corner of Rousseau's, swirling the amber liquid and ignored the wake going on around him. His mind was plagued with the memory of the nightmare that he had suffered through earlier that morning, the image of Mikael impaling him was imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He thought he could distract himself into forgetting about the dream; that was the main reason for disturbing Elijah and Imogen so early in the morning, an added benefit was irritating his brother. But even the newly acquired grimoire and his brother's support wasn't enough to derail the nightmare plaguing the hybrid's mind.

"Hey! Earth to you!" a familiar voice interrupted his silence as he snapped his head up and his gaze immediately landed on Camille, who was now sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

Klaus sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze traced over the wound that graced her face and he lowered his empty glass as he muttered under his breath, "Your face –"

"– Will heal." she finished for him in a firm tone of voice as she waved a hand dismissively and he adverted his eyes as he sculled the last of his scotch before she continued, "Listen, I wanted to thank you –"

"Unless you've come equipped with the means to fill this, no additional platitudes are necessary." he interrupted her midsentence as he held up his empty glass without making eye contact and she furrowed her eyebrows in concern as she leaned her folded arms on the table in front of her.

"Okay... I'm in a crap mood because my uncle just died, and people are partying like its Mardi Gras. What's your excuse?" she asked him in a slightly flippant tone of voice as she quirked an eyebrow at him and he scowled to himself as he gazed across the bar to avoid her eyes. "Klaus, seriously, what's going on?"

"I've been having these dreams about my dead father. No diagnosis necessary, love. I've already got this one covered: my fears of fatherhood, of scarring my child as my father scarred me, are manifesting as nightmares." he deduced on his own in a bitter voice as he offered her a fake smile and he shook his head as he swallowed the last of his scotch in one long pull. "It's horrifically cliché."

"Truthfully? I'm just surprised to hear you acknowledge out loud that you're going to be a dad. Your baby mama has been living out in the bayou for months, it's not exactly What To Expect When You're Expecting." Cami commented idly as she cocked her head to the side with a half-smile on her lips and he sighed in resignation as he placed his empty glass down on the tabletop. His gaze absently wandered across the bar where Marcel was entering and he sucked in a breath when he was met with familiar dark brown eyes, holding a hint of misery he was sure was reflected in his own.