The Devil In Me

Chapter 34

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August 1813

Elijah walked home from the common room, returning to his rented room. The tiny town in France he had followed signs of his brother to was turning out to be slightly too small to hide the fact he was an Englishman in. He did his best to blend in, and his French was more than adequate, yet still, some of the looks he had gotten over dinner, made him a little apprehensive.

There was only one last place to check, tomorrow morning and then he would be on his way from here.

The next morning dawned brightly, and he collected his things and left the inn. The town sat on the water and was quite picturesque, with it's small boats moored and clusters of local business ringing the harbour. He walked along the cobbled street, enjoying the smells of the local food and keeping his head down among the locals. He walked to the church, and glanced all around. There was no one watching him as far as he could see, so he went to the rough wooden board outside, where sheafs of white paper had been tacked up. He started to search through them. It was the same in every town.

Hearing a rumour of an Englishman who spoke French like a local, with burnished golden hair, who should not be crossed in a fight. Then checking the lists, which was the most disheartening part of the search. So many dead men, most little more than boys. He ran a finger down the page, trying to decipher the tiny script, so cramped as to fit too many names on one page. His finger kept on running, faster than his eye. Suddenly, something jumped out at him, an N. M. He skimmed back up with his finger, finding the initial, and following the line along to the full name.

N.M – Niklaus Mikaelson – January 9th 1813 – disease

It was like a punch to the stomach. Elijah closed his eyes, and counted slowly. It was a dream he had, often, that he found his brother's name on one of these lists, when he was free and could return home, and he always found him too late. He opened his eyes again, and looking again, his heart quaking. It had not changed, it was there, in ink, scratched on the parchment. The record of his death.

A commotion to the left of the square pulled his attention around and he saw a group of local men speaking together and gesturing to him. Looking one last time at the list, he turned and walked away. One last place he needed to visit before he left. If Klaus had died of disease, he had probably done so at the local hospital, or on the battlefield, in which case he would have no way of knowing for sure. Elijah prayed for the latter. Anything that left room for hope.

He made his way to the hospital, which also had a large military medical area. He spoke to a few people, and finally tracked down the person in charge of personals. The man grumbled and complained, but after Elijah eased his palm, he was more obliging. He went off in with the name written down. Elijah looked around the hospital, the beds were full. It was quiet and peaceful there. Nuns drifted between the beds, softly rustling as they soothed and calmed their patients.

Without warning, the man returned, and dropped a canvas bag at his feet., before turning away to deal with other matters. Elijah's heart was pounding, harder than ever before. He pulled open the beg and reached inside. The identity papers were worn, damaged by sun and water. He pulled it out, and held it up to the light. The world around him seemed to slow down then, and his heart beat strangely. It was so familiar and so foreign at the same time, as though it were happening to someone else. It was difficult to make out. It was not definitive, he decided.

There was a last object in the bag, and Elijah pulled it out. It was a letter... he turned it over in his hands, his fingers practically trembling as he unfolded it.

Dear Caroline

Elijah choked, dropping the paper. It was like a physical blow, a fist to the heart, he coughed and slid from the edge of the empty bed where he had perched.