brightestlight | I do what I waaaaant.

I do what I waaaaant.

Caroline didn't have much preamble when she walked into their suite, a bottle in her hand. "We need to talk, and you need a drink." She moved to pour him one without hesitation, looking back at him over her shoulder. She knew that the last thing he'd wanted to do was go to the party, and while she'd wanted to try and get out because even with his sort of not-super-overwhelming questions, she's been avoiding the answers, the times that she's actually not just straight up changed the subject.

Which, he's not exactly been super communicative, either. It'd been a lot of both of them totally ignoring the matters at hand. Now, though? Now things were different. Now, she was home, and she looked fantastic, if you asked her, and she was going to pour him a drink (in fact, she had, and was holding it out to him) and they were going to talk and then things could somehow maybe go back to normal a little.

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"What kind of drink?" Klaus asked, bemused, and came closer to take the glass from her. It seemed the right amber colour to make him happy, and when he smelled it - yes, it was definitely making him happy. A look at the bottle in her hand confirmed his suspicion - Irish whiskey, Connemara Peated Whiskey to be exact.

"Thanks, love," he told her, and took a sip. "I apparently need a very large drink," he commented, next, stepping up to her side and dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder, free hand skimming fingertips over the bare skin at her waist. "Is the talk going to be that bad?"

Edited 2013-06-23 00:53 (UTC)

"A good one," she replies, and she pours a big one for herself, looking back at him as he gets close, and then she closes her eyes when he bends to kiss her shoulder, and she sort of leans into him when he touches her waist.

"I don't know," she says softly, and she turns around and kisses him even if it's brief, before she pulls away, and moves to sit on the end of their bed, crossing her legs. "I haven't really brought it up because I didn't want to, but I guess you get to choose what it's about." And she's obviously been drinking, although she's not drunk-- not shitfaced anyway, she's just missing that sunny filter that's tinged pretty much every single thing she's said or done since she woke up from the coma.

"At least, where to start. Compelling me? Or what happened while I was sitting in the Sanctuary without knowing why?" No beating around the bush - not after the conversation she's just had with Lauren, with the things she's been thinking about since Lauren and Sam talked. That they think he's a psychopath, and honestly, Caroline agrees and she doesn't care.

"I compelled you to keep you safe, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat," Klaus answers, after taking a second to take in the fact that she did know. She hasn't brought it up until now, so he'd been assuming that she hadn't realised, but he's completely unapologetic about what he's done.

He watched Star die right in front of him. He isn't going to lose her too.

"You don't get to compel me without telling me you're doing it. I know I can't stop you." She says it flatly, and her fingers tighten on her glass. "You hoped I wouldn't notice? Or just didn't care?" Because those are two wildly different situations, if you asked her.

"For the record, I don't want you doing it. Especially because that sort of thing can backfire, which I'd assume that you'd know. If I'd still been compelled when the Aliens attacked, I would have been lunchmeat."

"And if I hadn't compelled you at all, you would be lunchmeat by now," Klaus replies, merciless. There isn't an ounce of self-consciousness in him, and he would do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant that she stayed alive.

"That doesn't answer my question," she said shortly. "Did you hope I wouldn't notice? Or did you not care?" She shakes her head, and looks down into her glass for a moment. "How could you not tell me, Klaus?"

"Because I didn't want to be having this conversation, Caroline," he answers, sardonic sharpness in his tone echoing the sharpness in hers. "I couldn't tell you then or you would've kicked up a fuss, and I didn't tell after it was over because you wanted to pretend that everything was alright, and I was too bloody exhausted for this!"

Any attempt at pretending that he didn't care was gone by the time he finished his sentence, in a shout, and his glass, still mostly full of whisky, shatters against the nearest wall. He's enraged by Star's death, and the thought that he could have lost her, too, and that's not changed.

She flinches when the glass explodes, and she's thankful for the fact that the walls are mostly soundproof and they have no neighbors when she stand up abruptly, and she sets down her glass hard enough the the whiskey sloshes from the rim as she moves towards him, getting up in his face. "What, and you think I'm not exhausted? Yes, I would have kicked up a fuss, but that's part of what doing this is about. This. This whatever it is that we have, it's not you just doing whatever the hell you think is best and whatever I think might as well not even exist!"

She's yelling at him, too, and she can feel the fury and anger and fear and trauma of the last few weeks and months bubbling to the surface from where she'd kept it neatly contained.

"This doesn't matter if you're dead!" he yells back at her, and there are tears in his eyes, and he's as angry as she's ever seen him.

"So, what? It doesn't matter what I want, if you can keep me safe? I won't be me anymore-" And that's part one, and then she knowingly leaps over the line with both feet. "I'm not them, Klaus. You can't just make me be safe!" Both of them are yelling at one another, and she's just as upset as he is.

Klaus had opened his mouth to yell back, but by the time she finished that sentence, all words had left him. The rage was too sharp, too dangerous, and how dare she talk about them now, as if - he closed his mouth and, for fear of doing anything he would actually regret, sped out of their suite.

He runs.

He runs, and she stares at him as he leaves.

She downs the rest of the whiskey in her glass. She changes - not caring that she breaks the zipper on her dress.

She cleans up the glass, after she steps on a piece of it.

What Caroline doesn't do is go to sleep. Or go after him. Or cry. Or break anything.

She drinks, and she waits, and she doesn't particularly care that she's still that same level of drunk-not-tipsy when he returns, to her sitting cross-legged on their bed, her communicator flickering with something from the Cortex. What she really wants is ice cream, and after several failed attempts from the replicator a few hours ago, she gave up.

Klaus goes and loses himself in the small maze of rooms on the other side of their floor. Some of them are dangerous, some of them are empty, some of them are puzzling, and he likes that they're small, multiple, and that he never knows what's coming next. It's unexpected, for such a control freak, but right now, they're exactly where he needs to be.

Eventually, he feels that he might be calm enough to come back and finish this. So he waits a little while longer, just to make sure, and then walks back to their quarters, and rings before he opens the door, to give her a heads-up. It seems only fair, and yes, he cares about giving her fair, when he can.

"I won't apologise for what I did," he tells her, without preamble. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I thought it would keep you alive. Make of that what you will."

She's welcome to yell at him again. He's determined to remain calm, and just let her. Even if she brings them up. Even if she brings Star up.

"I never said that you wouldn't do it, or that I didn't expect you to." She hadn't moved from the bed when he rang the bell, just waiting for him, although she did reach forward and flipped her comm over so it'd be less distracting. "I asked you to tell me when you do it, next time, and wanted to know if you actively tried to keep it from me."

She paused, and her eyes flicked up to his, and she said quietly, "You know-" And this was the sort of thing she didn't know how to say, and she didn't know if even saying it was close to the right thing. "Eventually," she says, and her voice wavers, and she can't tell him how upset she is saying it even though he probably can tell, especially when she's been bottling it up for weeks. "I'm going to die, sometime. For good, and it won't be your fault, really." Probably, anyway.

He's told himself he would be calm, and composed, no matter what she said, no matter who she brought up. Of course she catches him in his blind spot, of course she says the one thing he isn't ready to hear.

He moves over to her, as quickly as he can (not that quickly, once again, certainly not quickly enough), and cups her face with his hand, his eyes full of tears. "Shut up, Caroline."

Edited 2013-06-23 04:31 (UTC)

She shakes her head, even as she starts to cry. Messy, un-pretty sort of crying, and she pulls in a breath before she can even talk. "I would have died," she says thickly, "And you wouldn't have known. It's okay-" And her hand finds the back of his neck. She shakes her head again. "I'm not like you, or like them, it's going to happen, and-"

She swallows hard, trying to keep herself together. "Not for a long time, but you can't make it not happen. This-" And that'd happened just as he left before, her talking about This, the thing between them, and she shook her head. "This won't ever have been nothing, if- At least to me. So-" And that's when her voice catches, and all she can think - oddly enough - all she can think is It nearly tore me in half.

"Of course it won't ever be nothing," Klaus agrees immediately, his voice rough for the tears lumping in his throat, but as usual, he sounds angry more than teary, even if his gestures are tender. "I won't let it happen, love. There's no reason why you should die, and I won't let you."

He's just a little more difficult to kill, but she's right up there, too, and she has him watching her back. Of course she's not going to die.

"But that's the point." And she hasn't ever been overwrought in this way, not with him. Of course, she's had hard times, both of them have. It's never been like this, the way her face twists with the emotion, her voice raw as she shakes her head yet again. "I'm not immortal. It's not soon, but it's going to happen someday, and you can't-"

She shakes her head again, and she's trying to breathe and speak and she's still crying. "It's not letting me, Klaus. I love- I love that you keep me safe and that you care, but you can't change me and lock me up forever. It almost tore me in half-" She stops talking then, because she can't continue.

Of course she's immortal, the same way he is. She has a few more loopholes attached than he does, and that's all. But what she says next takes precedence, and Klaus frowns. "What did?"

She shakes her head. "Before. The Alien," she says, like it's enough of an answer and like she's not telling him something she hadn't. She'd downplayed it when she'd told him the first time, to a ridiculous degree, but she certainly doesn't remember that now. She pulls in another shuddering breath. "I know it's over. I know it's over now and there aren't any more. I know it." Even though she clearly didn't, deep deep down.

Edited 2013-06-23 15:05 (UTC)

"Love, we're going to live a bloody long time." He already has, but he means together. "There are going to be more, at one point or another. But the beautiful thing is, what's a little gut-spilling when you can just heal up."

The sooner she gets used to not-dying, the better for her. She should have by now, but it's harder to get used to with the nanites affecting their recovery time, so he's not surprised that she still hasn't.

She actually pulls away from him, scooting back on the bed, shaking her head, and she makes herself take deep breaths, before nodding. "Right. Right, it was- Small." And she laughs, a short unpleasant sound, and she tries to scrub her face with her hands. "And so was the radiation poisoning, and everything else. So-" Nevermind she didn't tell him about that, either. "I guess neither one of us should worry, since it just doesn't matter."

She chokes on the last word - this was, by far, the worst thing that's ever happened to her, but she doesn't know what to do, now, besides acting like nothing happened.

This is more like their usual patterns, and Klaus is effortlessly calm, now. He comes to crouch in front of her. "Physical pain's a bitch, but it's just that," he tells her, without touching her, looking up at her. "The quicker you learn that, the easier it'll be. And you're never going to be able to accept it if you keep pretending nothing's wrong. You need to own your pain, if you don't want it owning you."

Torture him and he would scream as much as the next person. It wasn't about not feeling it, it wasn't about being tough. It was about knowing that it would be gone even as it happened, it was about knowing it couldn't have a hold over you. All physical pain was transient.

"It's not that it hurt." The words come in an explosive rush, and she's shaking her head. "It's not that it hurt," she repeats, quieter now as she looks away. "Things hurt. Nothing's worse than your spine stitching itself back together, so far. I get that things hurt."

She doesn't think he understands, but she doesn't know how to tell him without it being her, her, her, without it being that she's so immature and whatever else people thought about her.

"What is it, then?" Klaus asks, eyebrows raised, the picture of attentiveness. He's resting in an easy crouch, forearms propped on his knees, entirely focused on her.

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