WHEN TIME FRACTURES || HOPE MIKAELSON x RYAN CLARKE

Chapter Six

February 13th, 1934 found Hope Mikaelson and Milton Greasley sitting in a 1930's Cadillac, waiting before the headquarters of Triad Industries.

The building was smaller than Hope remembered, but she didn't doubt that, over the years, they'll have plenty of time to grow and expend their ruthless business.

She glanced up and groaned. The sun was starting to set already but not everyone in Georgia seemed to be done with the day.

''Everyone's clocked out already,'' MG whined and leaned back in his seat, ''What could he possibly be doing in there?''

''It's Clarke. We can't know for sure.'' she answered, looking heavenward for a brief second. Her arm was falling asleep after being propped up on the door for the past hour and she raked a tired hand through her short curls.
The illusion almost fell short at the movement and she took it back quickly.
She focused for a minute, and when she brought her hands back to her head, the untamed curls felt solid, as good as real.

''Found anything yet?'' MG asked, casting a look at the open book on her lap.
He knew she would have spent all night reading it if he hadn't forced her to go to sleep.
It had been a day in this place so far and still, no news from Dr. Saltzman and no other clue whatsoever.

''For the twenty seventh time, no. It's not exact science, MG. All of these are simply assumptions that were made after brief observations.'' she whined, pulling her cleavage up. The dress she'd borrowed was not very revealing, but she still felt odd wearing it, given the place.

''Thought witches had it all figured out.''

''We're witches. He's a god.''

''So you're finally admitting that you've been bested?''

Hope didn't answer and instead focused back on the book on her lap. The note still lingered between the last page and the back cover, but she couldn't bring herself to think about Tamara Claire. If she did, she would inevitably come to think of Davina and then Marcel, Kol, Rebekah, Freya, Keelin... the list went on.

''How long is this going to take?'' MG retaliated, sipping quietly on the blood they'd gathered from a rabbit, thanks to Greer's help.

''How's Greer?'' Hope asked instead, sending him a look over a page. Her finger was on the corner, ready to flip it.

''She's good. Why do you ask?''

Her scoff was barely stifled and she closed the book shut.

''Oh, please!'' she sighed, ''You know that what you're doing is dangerous, MG. And you're the one who mentioned the Butterfly Effect! What if last night had changed things? Lizzie and Josie could cease to exist.''

''Don't be so dramatic. We were just talking.''

''I don't think you realize—''
''He's on the move. Eleven o'clock.'' MG cut her off, focusing on the scene before him.

Hope brought her attention to Clarke too as he exited the building and walked toward a car.

He stopped suddenly and slipped the keys into his pocket before turning his head both ways, as if making sure the coast was clear.

Once satisfied, he left the car and walked toward the adjacent path, leading straight to the woods.

MG reached for the handle on his door but Hope stopped him short.

''What?''

''You clearly are hungry, MG,'' she said carefully, glancing at the empty jug on the dashboard. ''Do you trust yourself not to lash out on the first deer that comes your way, or will I have to babysit you?''