From My Shipwreck I Heard Her Call

Hayley spots him from across the room; he is quiet and lurking, sketchpad in hand, glasses resting on his nose, and sea blue eyes scanning the objects before him as if they were made of diamonds.

She hates art class, she always has. She only chose it because Tyler insisted on taking this elective in particular. And it seemed like an easy A, at the time.

"Bekah," the blond haired boy sitting in front of her elbows his sister.

Rebekah Mikaelson glares at her brother. "Nik, what do you want now?"

"Pass me my eraser."

His sister rolls her eyes and throws the eraser his way.

(For a brief moment, he catches Hayley's gaze).

She's on her way to math class when he suddenly bumps in to her and spills his cup of juice all over her snow white shirt.

He doesn't apologize, instead, he tells her this: "you should watch where you're going, little wolf."

Somehow, it felt like déjà vu. "My name is Hayley," she says, refusing to answer to a silly pet name. "Hayley Marshall." She repeats, as if it's important.

"Well then Hayley," he says, leaning over and looking her straight in the eyes. "I suggest you be on your merry way. After all, angering this school's so-called 'troubled student' shouldn't be your first priority."

She scoffs a laugh. "Troubled?" She repeats.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of me."

Hayley shrugs. "Guess your reputation isn't enough anymore." She finds herself saying.

"Klaus Mikaelson," he reveals, as he takes his hand out of his pocket. She smiles and shakes his free hand.

(And they begin).

In a past life, he had traced the beauty mark on the back of her neck with the tips of his fingers. She had lied in his arms, lifeless and bloody. And he had held back tears, holding her close and shaking with fear. The aftermath of the war left her with scars down her back and a stake through the heart.

"I can't lose you," he screams. "I can't lose you, please, you are all I have left."

With her last breath, she brings a hand up to touch his cheek, brush his stubble with the tips of her fingers and whisper her last words in to his ear.

"It's okay," she says. "It's all going to be okay." She assures him. "I'll see you again."

For a moment, he believes her. He is fooled in to thinking that there is a life after the war. That they will indeed, meet again, in another life. Where things are different, things are peaceful, and things are safe.

Then, she closes her eyes and passes away in his arms, he knows she's (dying) lying.

In their next life, he learns that she is seventeen and rebellious. She is loud and impulsive. She is everything and nothing as she takes the center stage. There is a school play, where Niklaus is painting sets and Hayley is practicing lines. She is Queen Cleopatra and she is stunning, he thinks, really stunning. And the role of 'queen' suits her so well.

"Acting," he says, as she sits on the stool beside him. "Such a tedious line of work."

"So is painting," she tells him.

Klaus rolls his eyes in disbelief. "Most women normally admire my work. And instead, you dismiss it."

"I'm not going to give you the clichéd 'I'm not most women' crap." She lets him know. "Now I need to get back to my lines."

He shrugs, pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and continues painting.

There is a student art show going on, and Tyler forces her to attend because him and Jeremy have this comic book series about a werewolf and a hunter. She finds it ridiculous and uninspiring, until she sets eyes on the large canvas taking up most of the left wall. It's beautiful, shades of green and blue, swirling around each other like opposing winds dancing together.

She finds herself admiring this piece of work.

"So," Klaus appears behind her, hands stretching over her shoulders and hot breath hitting her neck. "What do you think?"

"It's ... tolerable." She says, while gazing at the painting. "It's actually the only thing here that doesn't make me want to barf."

Somehow, it all feels so very familiar.