Two Lost Souls

Head Over Feet

"So... about Damon," are Klaus' first words once they've managed to catch their breaths that evening, and she shoots him a sideways look.

"You're really doing this now?"

He shrugs. He's not used to not knowing things, and she did promise him that she would tell him everything eventually. They're alone in the mansion, Elijah having left to feed a while ago, apparently tired of blood bags, and Stefan and Rebekah being God knows where doing God knows what, and he figured she'd rather not have an audience if she's going to relive a painful memory for him. Granted, he could have waited a few more minutes, at least until the glow of their lovemaking had faded a bit.

"Why not?"

She chuckles, which he takes as a good sign. While he trusts her and believed her when she told him that she will never break another promise to him, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was going to try to get out of this conversation, given how unwilling she was to have it in Peru. Thankfully, it seems that even though she's annoyed with him for bringing it up now, she's not going to fight him.

"Why not?" she confirms, and her smile is both reassuring and apprehensive, a hard feat if you ask him, but she manages to pull it off. "Just remember that you can't hurt him any more than you already did."

He narrows his eyes at her, wondering what she's about to tell him that she feels the need to remind him of his promise. Could she have been right when she thought that things were worse than what he'd imagined?

No, he doesn't think so. He's got a pretty good picture in mind. Compelled sex and feedings are about as bad as it can get.

"I know," he says to encourage her.

"Okay. Let me just..."

She trails off and leaves the bed to slip on some underwear as well as the pair of shorts and the tank top she sleeps in when they don't just fall asleep naked in each other's arms. Realizing that she will be more at ease with this conversation if they are both dressed, he grabs his jeans and shirt from where she threw them at the foot of the bed when she was undressing him and he puts them on before sitting on the edge of the bed and turning to face her expectantly.

Knowing that she's stalled enough, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.

And he finds out he was wrong.

It is worse than he'd thought.

Not the acts themselves – his imagination was mostly accurate on those, though he had no idea how many times Damon tried to kill her.

But it lasted longer than he'd assumed.

He'd thought it had been a one time thing.

It turns out it wasn't.

She says it lasted for a few days, which could mean anything from 48 hours to several weeks.

Not to mention it wasn't just physical. He hadn't taken the emotional abuse into account.

"Klaus?" her voice breaks through his growing anger, the tone almost shy.

No doubt his silence is scaring her, so he tries to find it in himself to articulate something instead of trying to find a way around this bloody promise he made to never touch Damon Salvatore again.

"A few days?" he manages to growl.

She flinches and nods, but then she finds that fire he loves so much again, and she holds his gaze steadily, reading his inner turmoil.

"Yes. But it doesn't change anything. You can't..."

"I know!" he explodes before she can finish her sentence. Jumping to his feet, he starts pacing, and he drives his fist into one of the walls, not caring one bit about the hole that forms in the 18th century marvel that is this mansion. The outburst does nothing to calm him down and he turns to face her again. "I know I can't! Damn it, Caroline! How the bloody hell am I supposed to react? I thought he had gotten what he deserved, but..."