#but with the guilt that it came with the cost of Martin's short life

[lonelyslutavatar]

Had a dream where I read a fanfic (but it was more like watching a show) where Jon and Martin ended up in a peaceful pocket dimension where they have a choice to live out their lives there or exit through a door that takes them to their final destination which is the main world where all the Fears went. Martin wants to go through the door because he thinks they're obligated to at least soften the blow by keeping the entities at bay while Jon vehemently refuses because for once they're living in peace. Jon wins out and the rest were just them having a domestic life until Martin gets sick with the same sickness his mother had and dies early (the whole scene suspiciously resembles that opening scene from UP) and Jon finding out a little too late that it was The Lonely's absence that caused it and that Martin knew and never told Jon because he knew that would force him to finally enter through the Door just for his sake. So Jon, now an old man, decides it's time for him to fulfill his end of the deal and finish his journey through the dimensions and the last scene was him disappearing behind the door.

There was also B-side of the dream where I moved into a shared flat and there was a face-sucking demon. Otherwise everything was normal.

[snifflesthemouse]

The Crown made Diana seem... awful and crazy.

Hello, to all you beautiful people!

This author hopes all is well with each of you! After two solid months of illness after illness, I am back for a new post. Slowly, I inch back into the habits and hobbies I enjoyed pre-illness. There are two things I want to discuss; I should really write out two different posts and include a story of the last time I spoke with my mother before she died when I was on the run back in the old days. But, this author would like to remind you of the ‘taking it slowly’ part.

Therefore, I will say this briefly before I move onto my main topic. Knowing now that Her Majesty the Queen had cancer the last few years of her life, yet Harry did NOTHING to take advantage of that time… well… let me just say. One day he will wake up, and it will be a miracle if the guilt from all his decisions doesn’t crush him whole.

With that, I now would like to discuss the fifth season of The Crown. I’ve watched all five seasons of The Crown, and I have never found the show to be insulting to the Monarch. If anything, I find the show makes it look like Her Majesty had a short stick and the people around her didn’t make it any easier. Diana especially. Before Diana, it was either her sister, her husband, or possibly even her heir.

The fifth season essentially suggests that Diana was too stupid and paranoid to listen to her brother when he called out the inconsistencies from Bashir. There is a literal scene where Diana calls Martin out on all of his inconsistences (re her brother’s appeals and begging her to not go through with it). She has him in the car and she tells him of how her brother had been keeping notes from all the conversations, that he was caught up in many a lie. And yet she was so paranoid, she couldn’t see the reason for the mania. (I’ve been there, not judging, but it is what it is).

The whole entire show makes it look like Peter Morgan is in love with Her Majesty, but everyone else is too selfish and inconsiderate to try and make things easier for the Queen. I’ve never been one of those who saw the show as a bad thing, as long as the person being portrayed was the Queen. But this fifth season explicitly left someone out, which I found odd.

REMEMBER, the show is utter fiction. My fellow AMERICANS, The Crown is a work of FICTION. It is loosly based on factual events, and that is being a bit too generous.

The show also highlighted the Romanovs, and it showed the introduction of Penny to Prince Philip's life. I do wish they'd not make the Queen seem so hysterical with the emotional side of their marriage. They either make her seem superficial, or like she is so good at looking the other way it hurts Prince Philip that she doesn't even try to catch a peek. Like Philip was so unfulfilled he needed the Queen to complete him. Puh-lease. Those two were each other's rock. And they did what they needed to make it work. None of our business how that happened, now is it?

If I were Netflix, and I had an ex-royal, especially the second son of Diana, Princess of Wales on the payroll, wouldn’t it make the most sense to remind people at every opportunity that I had the Spare on the payroll? I mean, the whole point is to remind people of the upcoming content, not the stuff they already put out, right?

So why is it that little Harry didn’t have more than a hand full of lines the whole fifth season, yet William is a breakout role? Diana’s character even says that “all the love the people have for me has transferred to William,” after the interview fight. It was horrific the way they portrayed Diana.

Diana came off as a manipulative woman who knew she was being used and used it to her advantage daily. Even when they cover the divorce, they have a scene where she’s asked to be silent post divorce. She tells the Mediator character essentially that her silence would cost eight figures and start with a three. She hangs out at a hospital and love bombs sick patients just to attract the attention of the Khan (who did surgery on her acupuncturist’s spouse). She uses her children to sow unrest and win favor with the Queen.

Even one scene shows William and the Queen having tea, and the Queen reminding William that he is a child and shouldn’t be worrying about his mother. Then, she eventually has William with her when Diana goes to give her a small warning about the interview coming out with Bashir. Every time you see how Diana used William as a pawn with the Queen. Like she knew the Queen would see her using him, feel empathy for him, and show her favor. And it worked. It legit worked. If this is who Netflix is painting the Diana, Princess of Netflix to be, how can Harry even look himself in the eyes in the morning? I suppose with a LOT of exterior assistance.

And that reward is a threat, btw. I imagine that will be his official straw. Either that or King Charles III has already offered him a deal, and this is his way out. I.E. Old poppa will take me back now if I get rid of her… Harry was/is an addict. He needs frequent dopamine releases to stay interested. She is running out of interesting things, I am almost sure.

If Charles is waiting for the book re the titles, he shouldn’t. I keep checking often to see any changes, and there have been multiple updates to different biographies. Yet the succession withholds all titles for both of the kids. It says a lot. But then again, does it?

The Prince of Wales website still has Charles and Camilla on it as the Prince of Wales and Duchess of Cornwall. Netflix managed to come across very fair regarding Camilla and Charles. I am telling you, it seemed quite literal and quite personal. Like Netflix was getting revenge. But who am I? It was like they were sticking it to them both. They know Americans won't fact check, and they essentially made Prince Harry's childhood irrelevant in one of their biggest shows. Then, they painted William as the kid who had to parent his parents. How they continue to work with Netflix... wow. Just wow.

IT’S BEEN TOO LONG! Writing again soon, sending love! #royals #thecrown #princeharry

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter nine

Here’s the next update, not gonna lie this one was a little slow going because I didn’t really know what I was going with here but thankfully I have the best co-plotter in the world and Em helped break me out of my stump. Hopefully I can work out some way to keep chapters rolling because I actually head back to school in a week. As always, all comments are loved and appreciated!!

The call came in around 5 AM. Gil was startled awake by the sound of his ringtone. His heart thumps painfully in his chest when he sees the missed texts from Malcolm. He’s wide awake when he answers.

“Malcolm? Are you both ok?”

“We’re fine.” The boy’s voice is thin, drained. The words don’t bring any sense of relief, there’s a second meaning behind them. Physically. “There’s another body. Mom found it in the kitchen almost half an hour ago. Agent Swanson and Edrisa are on their way now.”

“Is she alright?” He can hear Malcolm swallow. Contemplating the answer and Gil knows. All those years that she’d hid everything she was feeling from her kids, all of it went to hell the moment she found the body.

“It was Freddy.”

His eyes close in remorse for the stranger. The man had helped Jessica escape, it likely cost him his life. “Fuck.” The word slips out, truthfully but he hears the humorless chuckle from the other end.

“That’s what I said.”

“Where is she at now?”

“In the other room with Ainsley. It was bad. I’d never-”

“She never let you see that side. Neither of you.” Gil, however, had seen it all. When the children were safely asleep he’d hold her until she cried herself to sleep. When they were at school he kept her company so the empty house didn’t swallow her whole. He even went as far as to limit the bottles that she kept in the home at certain points, especially around anniversaries.

Her wedding anniversary was the worst.

“I’m on my way now.” It wasn’t hard, he’d fallen asleep in the same clothes he’d come home in minus his coat and shoes. The exhaustion had worn on him enough that once he hit his bed he was out.

Out enough to miss those damn texts.

He shakes his head. “Make sure everything in the scene is the same. If anything even feels slightly off balance in there I want you to mark it. It’ll be hard but ask your mother if she saw anything at all. If she heard something that startled her awake, anything. We’re going to catch this guy.”

“I know.” Again, the words are distant. The question lingers bitterly in the silence.

But will it be too late?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He arrives at the home soon after, blue and red light his way up the driveway. Emergencies beat him there, he spies Agent Swanson’s car as well. He’ll catch up with her after he talks to Malcolm and hopefully Jess. 

The air feels chillier as he steps out, a sense of dread holds the chatter to a still. There will be no excited banter between Malcolm and Edrisa. No sarcastic commentary from JT or side discussions with Dani. Eyes fall on the sidewalk as he passes. His steps echo on the concrete, his mind racing as he steps inside the warmth of the home.

“I want to know how a serial killer carrying a fucking body got past three cops! One of which is a fucking FBI agent!” He hears Ainsley shouting as soon as he enters. He follows her voice rounding the corner to see her still in her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers absolutely laying into an officer. “How does that just happen? I don’t understand!” Even in the ridiculous pjs she holds the same command that she does as a reporter, intimidating and driven to have every answer.

“Ainsley.” She looks up at his voice. Her eyes give away everything, the fear hidden behind them is blatant, he assumes that’s exactly why the officer looked unfazed. She comes over and he can see she got little sleep. The dark circles under her eyes showcase her troubles, alone.

“Thank god you’re here.” She whispers, pulling him into a short hug. He feels everything that he was thinking in that embrace. The guilt for leaving earlier that night, despite their agreement. The house was way too big, too many extra bedrooms for them to have gone home. Maybe then, one of them two would’ve seen something.

“Where’s Jess?” He asks once she pulls away. Ainsley’s gaze softens slightly at the nickname before wordlessly guiding him through the halls. The path to Jessica’s bedroom is a familiar one. 

The sight though, less so.

Malcolm sits in the chair staring blankly at the floor. His foot bounces at a rate that gives away his desire to investigate, but his reluctance to leave his mother alone. When he spies their movement it’s enough for him to pop up out of his seat, ready to join Edrisa in the kitchen.

Jessica sits on the edge of her bed. Hands clenched together and all too aware of the amount of people currently in her home. She relaxes, only a little at the sight of them.

“Gil.” She breathes, he smiles sadly at her. “Malcolm, go. You’ve been staring at the door for 15 minutes.” He doesn’t argue, but places a comforting hand on her shoulder as he passes. Ainsley lingers in the door behind him, eyes glued to the carpet.

“I’ll go talk to Dani.” She sighs, it’s clear she wants to help more but she knows more than Malcolm that Jessica is putting up a front for the two of them. Gil won’t get much out of her when her daughter is lingering in the room. She hardly cracked in front of them after Martin, she’d be damned if this bastard made her break in front of them again.

Right on cue as the door shuts behind her, Jessica is on her feet pacing across the room. “Gil,” She sighs, running her hands over her face and through her hair.

“Jess, you shouldn’t be moving around so much.” She shoots him a wide eyed look, as if challenging him to stop her. He frowns but doesn’t bring it up again.

“How, I don’t understand.” Her voice catches in her throat, threatening to tear away. “He was in my home. My home.” Her fingers twitch, a tell tale sign that she wishes she could reach for the nearest bottle and pour herself a glass. Or reach for pills. Anything to quell her rising panic.

“Hey-”

“Don’t.” She spins around, faster than she should. He can see the pain resonate through her face the second she does. “Don’t you dare tell me that it’s ok.”

“Jessica.”

“He was in here. He was in the room with my son.” His eyes widen, he hadn’t been told that when he was briefed on the drive over. The way she’s shaking he’s certain she mentioned anything to anyone else either. The thought alone sends a bolt of anxiety through his stomach. “There was a cup of tea on my nightstand. I thought Malcolm made it before he fell asleep in the chair but-”

“But what?”

“Malcolm said he fell asleep an hour before I woke up.” Her hands knot together, trying to stop the shaking. He goes to her, taking her hands in his slowly giving her more than enough time to pull away if that’s what she wanted. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispers the confession. Her eyes shine with unshed tears and she bites her lower lip to keep them under control.

“Stay with me.”

“What?” She blinks rapidly, caught off guard by his words.

“I want you to stay with me. My apartment has one entrance and the fire escape. Less murder tunnels, and quite frankly, I want you as close to me as possible.”

“But Malcolm and Ainsley-”

“They can stay if they’d like too. Hell, I’d be shocked if they didn’t.” His eyes trace over her. The bruises are finally beginning to fade but the scratches still mar her normally smooth skin. With him, he can make sure she heals properly. “I’ll keep you safe.” He promises and he holds his breath. Not once in twenty years did she even entertain the idea of staying somewhere other than her home. Even with the threats of numerous killers, discoveries of tunnels leading to god knows where in her basement, and the blood shed it held more value in the good memories than the bad. He expects her to reject him again.

“Okay.” She whispers with a short nod.

“You will?”

“It’s closer to Malcolm’s and I’ll have Ainsley stay with him until you catch him. I want everyone close.”

“I am still convinced both of them are going to be sharing the couch for the next few days.”

“Even better.” He chuckles at her attempt at a joke. She doesn’t loosen but he can see the relief in her eyes, he doesn’t imagine he could get herself to fall asleep in this room again. At least not for a while.

“Pack up your stuff. After I finish up here we can go back. I’ll make you breakfast and we can sleep in.”

“Oh now you’re just spoiling me.” She squeezes his hand with a small, reluctant smile. “Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me.” He places a soft kiss on the back of her hand and leaves the room, ready to dive back into the case. His mind is cleared knowing that Jessica is safe and will be coming home with him rather than staying in a house that has far too many secrets for his own comfort.

He didn’t even see her grab the note from the nightstand and slip it into her shirt pocket.

[misssophiachase]

Sympathy for the Devil

Second-in-Command to Lucifer, Klaus Mikaelson, and promising Archangel, Caroline Forbes, have a complicated past. What happens when they need to come together to broker a peace deal when so many unresolved feelings linger?

A gift for the lovely��@ashleigh-jewitt-xx for the Klaroline Vacation Exchange

Present Day - December 23

Klaus carefully inspected his reflection in the large, hotel room mirror. He was attired in a formal suit, his wings tucked neatly beneath its folds but with one exception. Instead of his usual all black ensemble, he'd decided to tuck a familiar, white handkerchief in his jacket pocket. Risky yes, he didn't want to chance angering Lucifer given he was Second-in-Command but once he'd found out through his network of spies who was accompanying Heaven's Governing Council to this crisis meeting, it seemed the perfect choice. She did give it to him after all.

Klaus closed his eyes and her face appeared instantly. He'd committed those golden waves, creamy skin and expressive blue eyes to memory. Even her vanilla scent and melodic laugh still lingered after five years. He slowly opened his eyes again, attempting to calm the nerves she'd caused to swirl in his stomach. No one would believe that the all-great-and-powerful Niklaus Mikaelson had a weakness and he had every intention of keeping up the façade, especially given the importance of the upcoming talks.

Earth was middle ground and bustling New York City was chosen for the meeting, mainly because they could go about their business without arousing the suspicions of blissfully unaware and busy humans going about their days.

Klaus looked in the mirror one last time, her beautiful face appearing in the reflection. He held out his hand, running his fingers slowly along the cool glass and across her tempting pink lips, curved into a cheeky smile. Call him crazy but given the sparkle in her eyes, it was almost like she could feel him as much as he could her at that very moment.

5 1/2 years earlier

It was a bright, sunny day as Klaus made his way swiftly through the side streets, his eyes darting left to right as he appraised his next target. This was one of the most exclusive areas in Los Angeles and given the wealth per capita and his array of choices this was going to be difficult. He was weighing up between the red Ferrari and the navy Aston Martin, wondering which would return the best profit and possibly earn him the promotion he desired.

Nobody could steal a car like Klaus Mikaelson. His reputation was renowned throughout California and his services were highly sought. Unfortunately, no matter how high the price they offered, he was inextricably tied to the family business. Mikael Mikaelson had built up an impressive and thriving crime ring the past thirty years. Ranging from theft to robbery, drug dealing and arms trading. Being born into this crime syndicate meant that Klaus' future was already decided. He'd trained as a pick pocket from a young age, all his siblings had, and after a three year stint in prison for armed robbery he was now one of their premium car thieves, turning in the most annual profit in that division on record. But he wanted more and was eyeing up a move into the lucrative drug market.

He noticed a flurry of activity and lifted his sunglasses to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. It was a silver Lamborghini Veneno, one of the rarest cars in the world. A car worth a cool $6.2 million. If this didn't convince his father to promote him, nothing would.

He made his way across the road, his eyes following the couple as they stepped from the car and made their way into the nearby restaurant. Klaus resisted the urge to groan, what idiot would leave his rare Lamborghini unprotected when they offered a perfectly good valet service? The way Klaus saw it was that he deserved to have it stolen. He approached slowly, sizing up his options. Knowing the sound of the alarm would be immediate, Klaus had to act fast to disable it. Something he was good at thankfully. He admired the gunmetal sheen of the paint in the sunlight, excited for the ensuing joyride and delivering this prize to his father.

He checked around discreetly noticing the foot traffic had decreased significantly, no doubt due to the time of day. As he was about to strike, he heard a loud honk in the distance. Looking over, Klaus could make out a flash of blonde hair and a pair of toned, creamy legs housed under a floral mini-dress. Klaus couldn't look away, mainly because he had an almost urgent need to see her face. She turned her head, almost on command, an exaggerated eye roll doing nothing to ease his curiosity. She was absolutely breathtaking; it was the only word to describe her looks. Klaus figured she had idiots driving past and beeping most days.

Klaus was finding it difficult to tear his gaze from her. He wondered what her name was. He figured it was probably something stunning to match her natural elegance and what seemed like a cheeky disposition from her facial expression.

He shook his head, attempting to dislodge the distraction, he had a job to do. Before he could look away he heard another car horn in short, sharp bursts but this time it wasn't one of admiration but one of urgency. In her haste to cross the street, she was directly in the path of an incoming car. She froze to the spot, unable to move. Klaus didn't think, just sprinted towards her. He didn't know this mystery woman but there was no way he was going to let her die today.

It all happened in a split second. One minute he was racing towards her and the next she was in his arms as he shielded her from impact. Then he felt an excruciating amount of pain and the world went black.

Present Day

Meanwhile across town present day, Caroline shivered involuntarily, her hand grazing the mirror and the image she'd unwittingly conjured of his gorgeous face and deep set dimples. The ones he used to flash when he was teasing her mercilessly. Those crimson lips were still as deeply rich in colour as Caroline remembered and she briefly wondered if they were still as smooth to touch.

She pulled her hand away shakily in a desperate attempt to halt the memories from flooding back uncontrollably. The last thing she needed were her emotions to penetrate the act she was attempting to convey on this mission. It was something she'd refused to take up repeatedly but her parents, the current ruling hierarchy, had insisted upon it.

"I am not going to do this," Caroline insisted, her arms crossed over her chest defiantly. "And you can't make me."

"Well, that's certainly a mature take on the situation," Liz drawled. "If you're not going to do this for me, think of your father, think of the governing council, think of…"

"Oh let me guess, world peace."

"You took the words right out of my mouth darling, but just so you know bitter sarcasm is not your best look," she growled, by way of response. "Look, I understand it will be difficult after everything but you and…."

"Don't say his name," she interrupted.

Difficult was an understatement. Just the thought of being face-to-face with Klaus again was enough to evoke a gambit of emotions, starting with unresolved anger and ending with a frustrating desire to rip his clothes off and drag him to bed. She just hoped God couldn't read her mind when she was having such untoward and lustful thoughts. It was another reason to blame Klaus for messing with her emotions and her chastity.

"You're our best hope, Caroline," she pleaded, her hands running over her daughter's wings soothingly. Caroline had to fight the urge not to roll her eyes. No pressure at all. "The council has received word that Lucifer is mobilising his guard on earth and the last thing we need is a bloody feud with our innocents directly at risk. After all, it's our duty to protect them at all costs."

"Just when I thought you couldn't guilt trip me any more you've succeeded," she mumbled. This wasn't about her diplomatic skills, that much Caroline knew. It was them blatantly using her as a pawn to try to sway him given their brief but still painful past. At the same time, she wasn't one to sacrifice innocent lives; in fact she'd been working hard to protect them since before and after she arrived in Heaven over five years earlier.

She'd been confused. One minute she was crossing the street and the next she was making her way through a white haze and into her parent's waiting arms. As they both held her close, she could hear their repeated cries of it being too soon. Her time wasn't supposed to come yet, she had so many years to do good work on earth. Caroline had wracked her brain trying to remember what exactly had transpired. The last thing she recalled was a pair of strong arms encircling her waist and pulling her closer and then darkness.

Her mother and father had died two and five years earlier respectively and as much as she missed them, she'd moved on determined to make them proud. After earning her medical degree in Boston and moving cross-country to Los Angeles and to an intern position at the Cedars Sinai ER, Caroline finally felt at some kind of peace, until that fateful day.

The one thing she hadn't expected as she was cradled in their arms was for him to appear in the distance. He was handsome, that much was true. Dirty, blonde curls and dark, blue eyes regarding her curiously. It all came back to her at that very moment. It was him, the man that selflessly saved her life. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd managed to sacrifice his own at the same time and she wasn't quite sure why.

xxxx

"White really isn't your colour, Niklaus," Kol drawled, gesturing to the handkerchief poking out from his pocket as they walked along Fifth Avenue through the crowds unaware of just who they were.

"Since when did I ever ask you for fashion advice?" He baulked, his eyes trained firmly on the sidewalk. Kol had tagged along for the meeting. He said it was because he wanted to learn from his older brother but Klaus knew it was because he wanted to try picking up some poor, unsuspecting spirits on earth. Since he'd died a year earlier, Kol had been determined to return to his old life, not realising it would never be the same again.

"Since never but maybe you should," the brunette snorted. "If only to avoid Lucifer's wrath."

"I can wear whatever I damn well like," he growled, thinking about the one reason he'd chosen his outfit. The flash of white his attempt to silently prove he wasn't as evil as she probably thought after he left so suddenly. Klaus had been initially surprised they'd let her accompany the governing council on such an important mission but it was no doubt their attempt to try and weaken his resolve. Klaus had no intention of letting that happen, even if he had changed his outfit a few times. "You, on the other hand might want to stay away from velvet in future."

"What do you mean?" He baulked, looking downwards at his black jacket. "Ladies love the feel."

Klaus rolled his eyes, thinking that even in death his brother and his vanity hadn't changed. He'd been decidedly angry when Kol arrived in Hell. He was only twenty-five at the time and was another casualty of his father's criminal regime. Maybe Klaus had died of his own design but Kol had been fatally shot during a drug deal gone wrong. After all the years Klaus had been held back from that particular lifestyle, Mikael had allowed a young and immature Kol to pay for it with his life. It was something Klaus could never really forgive, even after all this time.

Luckily Rebekah and Elijah had managed to extricate themselves from this terrible life their father had thrust upon them. He'd looked in on them a few times in the past. Elijah was a successful hotelier in Switzerland with multiple properties under his command and a feisty, brunette, art curator called Katherine for a wife. Klaus had to laugh at just how well she kept him on his toes. Even with their colourful upbringing, Elijah had always been too stuffy for his own good. Rebekah was an up and coming fashion designer currently based in Hong Kong with an equally headstrong Englishman called Enzo who never pandered to her unlimited list of demands. The way Klaus saw it, it was a perfect match.

He never begrudged dying when he saw their happiness on display but Kol's premature fate had been particularly difficult to take. Maybe he was deemed evil by Hell standards but at the end of the day all Kol wanted was some wild fun and a pretty girl to keep him company.

Klaus inhaled sharply as they traversed East 54th street thinking back to her. After the darkness enveloped him all those years ago he was surprised to find himself in Heaven, of all places. Last time Klaus checked his reckless lifestyle didn't lend itself to such purity. Not only was he a criminal with an extensive rap sheet he also smoked incessantly, was a recreational drug user, drank in excess and bedded a new woman most nights of the week.

But yet here he was, staring into the eyes of Heaven's hierarchy as they comforted their apparent daughter. The same girl he'd protected without knowing just who she was. Turns out she was angelic royalty and being her unwitting saviour must have scored him an automatic free pass through the pearly gates. Go figure.

The look she'd sent his way though, those wide eyes staring at him unflinchingly was enough to cause his chest to constrict. He decided to blame that particular foreign sensation on impromptu death. She obviously knew what he'd done for her but Klaus never wanted her to feel gratitude. Call him greedy but, at that very moment, what he wanted was so much more than that.

xxxx

Caroline finalised her outfit, running her hands along the length of her fitted, white dress, even if it had taken multiple changes to come to a decision. Her blonde hair was fanned out across her back, a gold headband glinting amongst the blonde waves. She hated to admit it but Klaus still had the ability to make her doubt everything, including her appearance. They hadn't seen each other since he'd left Heaven years earlier. She wanted to despise him for abandoning her but Caroline was strong enough to know that she wasn't beholden to any man, let alone an evil coward that was so weak to disappear into the darkness of night without a goodbye then show up unexpectedly at Lucifer's right hand side. To say she felt betrayed was an understatement.

"Stunning," a voice offered behind her in the reflection. She smiled into the warm, brown eyes of Bonnie Bennett. Her saving grace since Klaus had left all those years ago. She'd been crying incessantly when the caring but opinionated girl had intervened. Caroline really couldn't have wished for a better fairy god sister all these years. To say she also looked stunning was an understatement. The colour white was invented for someone like Bonnie.

"Mmmm, I was actually going for professional, Bon."

"Stuff professional," she whistled. "That satanic fool is going to wish he stayed with you in Heaven all those years ago rather than succumb to the disgusting bowels of Hell."

"I doubt I've even crossed his mind, Bonnie. He's probably been too busy maniacally ruling Hell and wreaking havoc on poor, unsuspecting people to care," she scoffed.

"We both know that's not true," she said. "If you actually believed that you wouldn't be wearing that on such obvious display." Caroline's hand went to her chest immediately, feeling the familiar chain with the simple silver cross attached around her neck. He'd left it for her the night he disappeared and it had stayed hidden under her clothing all this time until she decided to bring it to his attention.

"Call it my form of diplomacy."

"You're playing with him."

"It's the least he deserves," she growled. "If this gets him to back away from our innocents then it's more than worth it."

"No one messes with Caroline Forbes and gets away with it."

"Exactly," she drawled, wondering why she'd ever had feelings for such a selfish ass.

Yes, it was true he'd saved her life but his cowardly actions since hadn't endeared him to her in any way. Besides leaving her without a goodbye, the one thing Caroline couldn't understand was what had lured him to Hell of all places. Someone destined for Hell would never have saved her life so selflessly, well that's what she kept telling herself anyway. She thought back to a particular conversation they shared, not long after their impromptu deaths.

"Here you are," she murmured, noticing his familiar curls in the distance. From what she'd heard, he'd barely sat down since his arrival pacing back and forth like a trapped animal instead. He turned slowly, the deep set frown immediately curving into a wry smile. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Oh really?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for..."

"There's no need. Really."

"But you tried to save my life and because of that you're..."

"Really, it was nothing," he cut her off distractedly. "I'd rather not revisit the past." Caroline was taken aback at first, not sure how to take his terse response. Did he really hate her that much?

"You're not much of a conversationalist then I take it?"

"What gave it away?"

"That warm and welcoming personality," she teased, attempting to lighten the obviously heavy mood. "Plus it seems almost a waste given that accent."

"Premature death has a tendency to do that, love," he quipped, finally coming to a halt. Caroline felt an unexpected tingle below and decided to blame that on death before regaining her composure.

"And it's all my fault," she murmured. The one thing she would never get over was causing someone else's death. She was a doctor after all, she was supposed to be saving lives and not assisting in taking them. "Really..."

"I chose to run out onto the road," he began, his blues eyes now staring solemnly into hers. "It's not your fault and I'd really prefer you didn't blame yourself for my choices. I'm a big boy."

"And I'm..."

"A big girl, yes I know," he joked. "The name's Caroline, right?" She gave him a curious look wondering how he knew given they'd just met. "Apparently you're like angelic royalty around these parts, people have been talking."

"They even gossip up here?" She baulked. "Now there's a title I've been striving for all my life. By the way, has anyone told you that you have a tendency to interrupt when someone's talking?"

"That particular and endearing trait I got from my little sister. She makes it her aim in life to intervene in all types of conversations, even when she's not party to it."

"Sounds like my best friend," she smiled knowingly. "Lexi has no filter and an overly inquisitive nature that can't be stifled."

"I think they'd get along really well then," he admitted, his gaze now focused at his feet. "If only they knew each other in real life, but I guess we'll probably never know."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. His selflessness had banished him to this world. Caroline didn't think she could feel as bad as she did now.

"I thought we discussed this already," he muttered gruffly. "And if you intend on apologising every few sentences, a whiskey is definitely in order."

"For me or you?"

"I don't know about you but given we just died, probably both."

"I won't argue with you on that logic," she agreed. "You seem entirely too composed given what's happened…"

"Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson."

"What?"

"My name is Klaus. It's okay, I know you were desperately wondering what it was all this time, sweetheart," he teased, flashing an unexpected pair of dimples in her direction and blindsiding her momentarily. Caroline was pretty sure the ongoing tingling feeling wasn't such a coincidence.

Not that Caroline would have admitted it but she'd been desperately wanting to know his name and hear his voice after he attempted to save her life. She wanted to think it was just for that reason but her foreign and unexpected feelings were betraying that theory. She wanted to speak but had forgotten exactly where the conversation had been heading before he offered his name.

"Between you and me." Klaus began, moving decidedly closer and fastening a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm hardly composed. Although don't tell anyone I admitted that, I have a reputation to protect after all." If she could still breath, Caroline was fairly certain it would be short, if not almost non-existent given his dangerously close proximity.

"You realise we're in Heaven right? Being good and not having any sort of bad boy reputation is part of the deal."

"Oh god, suddenly not so composed," he muttered, moving away and making Caroline feel decidedly cold. "Where is that bloody whiskey when you need it?"

"Pretty sure using the G word in vain and alcoholic beverages aren't on the menu here," she offered, watching him begin pacing impatiently like when she'd initially found him. "You know that pesky temperance virtue and all that."

"How can you be so okay with this situation?" Before she could offer her opinion he continued his rambling. "Of course you are, Her Royal Princess of Heaven or whatever you're called."

"I'm pretty certain there's no royal titles here and, if so, I'm vetoing that particular suggestion," she replied sarcastically, watching the sheer panic in his face and a few unexpected unshed tears in his eyes as he continued to move back and forth. "Do you need this?" She asked feebly, offering the white handkerchief from her pocket and placing it in his hand. Even if it was old fashioned it belonged to her grandmother and was something she kept on her at all times for sentimental reasons.

"And what exactly am I going to do with that?"

"I just thought..."

"I'll have you know that Klaus Mikaelson doesn't cry."

"I'm not sure if I should be worried about your supposed lack of emotion or the fact you referred to yourself in the third person."

"Do you always make jokes in times of crises?"

"It's a nervous habit."

"Sounds like it." He looked at her briefly before continuing his pacing but not relinquishing her handkerchief.

Caroline felt an urgent need to help calm him and not with bad jokes. She needed a new approach. She walked into his path purposely, causing him to run directly into her body, his toned chest housed in a grey Henley rubbing against hers teasingly, their intense eye contact immediate. Caroline would be lying if that wasn't causing the earlier sensations to spread and decided to blame it on the spicy scent of his aftershave. He regarded her seriously, those crimson lips curving up curiously.

"Can I help you?"

"Well, for starters you can stop pacing like that, Mikaelson," she chided. "You're making me dizzy."

"So, how exactly can you be so composed, love?" He asked repeating her earlier question.

"It's called shock and don't call me that," she admitted, their bodies still intimately pressed up against each other. "I'm certain that it's going to wear off not long after yours and it might not be pretty when it does."

"Well, at least we can be not pretty together then." Caroline gave him a slight smile knowing that even though she'd felt alone in death at first maybe she had someone by her side that could relate to her current predicament.

"Well, I'm glad to hear such confidence Care because we're going to need it," Bonnie conceded, interrupting her trance. Caroline glanced at her in the reflection curiously as she moved further into the room, taking a seat on the bed gingerly. "I've received word that the Governing Council won't be attending the talks after all."

"I'm sorry, what?" She hissed, spinning around to face her friend in disbelief.

"It's just you and me," she offered, feebly.

"This is not happening." Caroline muttered, trying to regain her earlier composure that was now well and truly in tatters. She could feel her wings quivering beneath her dress it was that unsettling. "I can't do this alone, Bon. I mean I have no experience at all in these matters and Klaus knows that so I don't know why my parents would even..." she trailed off, finally coming to a standstill.

"Why what?"

"This is a test," she growled, the realisation well and truly sinking in. "This is their sick and twisted way of testing out my Archangel attributes."

"Well, they obviously have confidence in your abilities Care and think that you're worthy of the promotion which isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Some heads-up of this little surprise task would have been nice," she mumbled, taking a seat next to her friend and placing her head on her shoulder. "If it was anyone else then maybe I'd be able to prove myself but it's him, Bonnie."

"The same guy that left you to join the dark side," she soothed, wrapping her arm around her friend's waist comfortingly. "If anything I'd say this was the perfect opportunity to prove yourself. I mean what could be better than a little payback?"

"Game on, Mikaelson," she agreed quietly, finally feeling her mojo start to return.

xxxx

"Humans are so unbelievably festive; this over abundance of bright colour looks like Christmas threw up all over the room." Kol mused as they made their way into one of the Plaza Hotel's smaller meeting spaces. "If only they knew what was actually going on here, suddenly they wouldn't want to celebrate all this yuletide cheer."

"Weren't you human not long ago?"

"And then I saw the other side," he snorted. "A few more female distractions in my life and I could die happy. Hang on, I've already conquered that particular feat, you know besides the happy part." Klaus could concur on that front but had no intention of sharing that particular tidbit with his younger brother.

"I specifically requested no decorations of any sort," Klaus mumbled more to himself than anything. He made a mental note to have a word with his personal assistant Josh but knew it would be fruitless because this whole arrangement screamed Caroline Forbes and her control freak tendencies.

In their brief months together she'd mused about her perfect wedding. It was something she'd apparently been planning since she was five years-old even without a potential groom. A Christmas Eve wedding to be exact, because that was her favourite time of the year, which included a reception at the Plaza hotel and plenty of decorations including white peonies in tall vases like the ones suspiciously on display. The fact he remembered such inane details would certainly put a question mark over his senior position in Hell not to mention his masculinity. But for some reason everything she said, no matter how uninterested he was in the actual content, Klaus would remember word for word.

Suddenly his guilt gave way to something decidedly more determined. She was attempting to play on his emotions with memories, no doubt due to the way they'd parted ways and her parent's agenda. Klaus may have harboured feelings for her but he always won and this time wasn't going to be any different.

"Game on, Forbes," he muttered under his breath.

"What a beautiful room," an angelic voice sighed behind him only a minute later.

Klaus would know that melodic tone anywhere. He steeled his nerves briefly knowing that he had a job to do and Caroline wasn't going to mess with his impeccable record. As he turned to face her, his strong resolve fell away immediately. She looked equal parts stubborn and beautiful in that fitted dress, her blonde locks cascading over her shoulders effortlessly. He felt his unwelcome arousal straining against his suit pants knowing that he was going to have to control his urges if only to get through these negotiations unscathed.

"I specifically requested something simple but elegant."

"You mean plain."

"No, I meant something like your chosen accessories." He blurted out without thinking, his eyes flickering to her creamy chest, the silver chain he'd given her sitting above her enticing cleavage. Klaus had been wearing it the day he died and every one after that and no matter how many times she'd asked why someone like him would be wearing a cross, of all symbols, but he'd repeatedly declined to answer.

Kol's gaze was now solely focused on the necklace. Klaus mentally kicked himself thinking that bringing that to his brother's attention wasn't in his best interests. Kol knew they'd met before but nothing else about their past in Heaven. He decided to blame the fact that his usually controlled emotions were out of whack.

"You're one to talk," she shot back looking at his jacket pocket defiantly but Klaus could sense the hesitation in her tone. Maybe Caroline was just as rattled as he was. If so, he had every intention of exploiting that fact. "I do recall discussing these details with your personal assistant but I suppose that would come down to some semblance of organisation on your part."

"Someone's obviously still a little too highly strung." Before Caroline could argue with his assessment her friend spoke.

"And obviously someone's interpersonal skills leave a lot to be desired," the inquisitive and attractive brunette to her left chimed into the conversation. "Although coming from the Second-in Command I suppose it's hardly surprising." Before Klaus could argue his brother interjected.

"Hello, beautiful." His attention now firmly focused on his brother's attacker. Trust Kol to change sides so quickly for a pretty face. Klaus made a mental note to not bring him along for any other important talks given his inability to focus on the matter at hand.

"I wasn't talking to you," she attempted to shut down his obvious attempts at flirting. Klaus knew that this would no doubt end in Kol's desperate tears. "Who's your yappy lap dog?"

"You certainly have ample amounts of attitude for an angel," Kol offered.

"Urgh, can we just get these talks over and done with? I have some serious shopping to do on Fifth."

"Apparently velvet is the new trend." She looked over his jacket critically before responding.

"Obviously Heaven is further ahead in the fashion stakes by the looks of it."

"Last time I checked darling, good dress sense isn't going to win any negotiations today," Kol barked stubbornly.

Their brown eyes were unwavering as they sized each other up. Maybe these talks were going to be more eventful than Klaus thought. His eyes flickered over to Caroline during the stand-off wondering just what she was thinking but her face wasn't betraying anything. He decided he needed to relieve the palpable tension before it got too out of hand.

"We should get started. Where is everyone?" Klaus asked curiously, noticing the Governing Council hadn't arrived yet.

"Yeah, and here I thought holier-than-thou saints were usually punctual. Isn't it one of those annoying virtues you all adhere to?"

"They won't be attending." Caroline responded, choosing to ignore his brother's throw away comment. To say Klaus was shocked by these developments was an understatement.

"So, it's just the two of you?" Klaus asked unable to keep the smirk from taking over his face, this was going to be easier than he thought.

"And what's wrong with that? Scared of a couple of girls, Mikaelson?" Caroline demanded, hands on hips. It took all his willpower not to react, she looked so sexy when she was being indignant.

"I think the answer to that would be a resounding no," Kol scoffed, offering his unwanted opinion yet again.

"That's enough, Kol."

"Oh, the whiny, immature one has a name," Bonnie cooed.

"Well, judging by those choice introductions, this should be extremely interesting," Klaus said, sending Caroline a sly glance. "Should we begin?"

xxxx

Fast forward seven long and difficult hours and Caroline hadn't expected just how difficult the negotiations would be and just how adamantly pigheaded Klaus was. Yes, she knew he was stubborn but when it came to getting what he wanted Klaus was unrelenting. She wondered if he knew what the word compromise meant but then he wouldn't be Second-in-Command to Lucifer if he did.

"If you were just going to shoot down all our suggestions then I wouldn't have bothered to make the journey."

"Your suggestions are completely absurd not to mention unworkable," Klaus argued back. He may of been a few metres across the table but it felt a lot closer given the way his familiar aftershave was infiltrating her nostrils. "We have every right to be on earth just like your kind." When he referenced 'your kind' Caroline felt a sharp stab in her chest. He was one of them once but obviously that didn't mean a lot to him anymore.

"But why so suddenly and in increasing numbers? Excuse me if your motives don't seem completely above board."

"We are only increasing our guard on Earth to keep watch over our people, those that would never be welcome in your world for obvious reasons." Again with the 'your' references. If she thought he might be wavering at all, those comments were confirmation he'd well and truly moved on "We didn't even need to raise this matter with you but yet we extended that courtesy."

"Oh, am I supposed to thank you for your honesty? Your kind don't even know the meaning of the word," she shot back thinking he deserved the same kind of language. "You told us because you wanted to pretend your motives were sincere when all Lucifer wants is to provoke a reaction to justify his ultimate plans."

"You've got some imagination there, Caroline.," he laughed, leaning forward and flashing those familiar dimples in her direction. If only her name didn't sound so good rolling off his tongue. Bastard. "Please keep going with this story, I'm intrigued about how it all ends."

"You already know how it ends," she growled, thinking about the obvious attempts to corrupt their innocents and recruit them into Hell instead. "But I have no intention of allowing that to happen."

"What are you going to do fight back? It's hardly the modus operandi in Heaven and I doubt your Governing Council would condone such retaliatory action."

"Good always prevails over evil," she offered simply.

"Oh that chestnut," Kol snorted lazily from the other end of the table, slumped low in his chair. He'd been relatively quiet for the past hour so Caroline was surprised by his sudden interjection. "I was wondering when you'd pull out that line."

"You've offered nothing at all constructive to this conversation," Bonnie accused sharply. "In fact, all you've done is demolish the sandwich and pastry platters then offer unhelpful and not to mention snarky remarks.

"What can I say? I'm coming down from my sugar high and really need a bloody drink. I'd be happy to take you out for one, it might even get rid of that stick up your ass, darling."

"Not even if we were the last two spirits left on Heaven, Earth and Hell combined."

"I love it when they play hard to get, just makes me that much more determined," Kol chuckled. Bonnie's responsive huff was enough to tell Caroline that these talks were hopeless. She needed a change of scenery to calm her frazzled nerves, preferably far, far away from Klaus Mikaelson.

"How about we call it a day, meet back here tomorrow first thing?"

"Giving up so soon, love?" Klaus grinned triumphantly, standing up from the table to meet her weary glance.

"Never, Mikaelson," Caroline promised. "I just need some air given the sheer volume of your inflated egos combined."

"Last time I checked you don't need any oxygen given your current spiritual situation."

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order then," she growled. "Your pride and arrogance can cause even an angel to seek refuge from its suffocating effects."

"I'd say its been a pleasure but I'd be lying," Bonnie snapped in Kol's direction before following Caroline from the room dutifully. "Damn, he's kind of cute in an annoyingly sarcastic and childish way."

"It's all that banter likening itself to foreplay, trust me it will wear off." Caroline lied knowing that deep down she didn't believe a word. After seeing him again today she knew that Klaus still had that annoying ability to put her extremely off balance. Even after he'd revealed his criminal past all those years ago, Caroline still believed in his goodness but when it came to her chastity vow not so much.

"How can you be so positive after everything that happened?" He'd asked her a few months after their deaths. "Don't you feel cheated?" They'd found solace in each other and barely spent any time apart. Caroline blamed it on her need for some sort of closure from her time on Earth but looking back she knew it was her growing attraction to the man that saved her.

"I suppose it was meant to be."

"Oh come on, you can't believe all of that fate nonsense," he'd scoffed. "You were a doctor, doing so many good things in the world but yet here you are."

"Well, so are you."

"We've already discussed this," he murmured. "I was destined for this ending because of my chosen lifestyle, I just didn't expect to come up here and find you."

"You are a good man, Klaus Mikaelson," Caroline whispered, moving closer and running her hands through his curls slowly. He melted into her, relishing in her warm touch. They'd been decidedly guarded with each other up until now, Heaven frowned upon public displays of affection apparently. "Don't ever forget that."

"Then why do I want to kiss you so much?" His eyes met hers, the tension palpable.

"Why do you?"

"Because, believe it or not love, you make me want to be a better person..." Her mouth was on his before he could continue, so many months of pent up attraction realised. His crimson lips teased her daily and even if she was giving into temptation, Caroline didn't care. All that mattered was them and that very moment together.

"Caroline, hello?" Bonnie interrupted, waving her hand in front of her face as they walked through the hotel's stately foyer.

"I'm here."

"You could have fooled me," she teased. "He got to you, didn't he?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, dismissively. "In fact, I really just need some time alone."

"I'd argue with you but I heard there's a sale at Victoria Secret," she joked. "They don't call those models angels for anything." She could still hear Bonnie's affectionate laugh as they parted ways at the elevator. Caroline loved the fact that Bonnie respected her decisions even if they were probably ill informed.

She found herself wandering through Central Park. She'd grown up in New York City her first seven years and found the park a constant source of refuge, discovery and fun. Her favourite place was the ice skating rink at Christmas time. It was always so brightly lit and packed full of innocent children who didn't know much about the big, bad world thankfully. Kind of like she was at that early age.

Caroline pulled her jacket around her tightly, attempting to ward off the chill as she watched the kids excitedly skating around the rink, their cheeks flushed pink from the cold air. She was pretty certain she could just stand there all night.

"I think you should get out there, show 'em how it's done," he whispered in her ear, the vibrations from his voice reverberating southwards. Her right hand didn't hesitate, moving upwards to swat him away like the annoying insect he was.

"Shoo," she growled, making direct contact with his head. "Last time I checked I didn't invite you to join me and funnily enough it's not all about competition. Believe it or not kids just want to have a good time and not trip each other up in the meantime."

"Or hit them over the head either," he drawled sarcastically, referring to her assault. "Trust me, it's overrated."

"I suppose that's where you and I beg to differ."

"We did agree on things at some point from what I remember, love." Caroline had been staring ahead in the distance but couldn't help herself, turning to face him to share her views on that particular comment.

"But that was a very long time ago and don't call me that," Caroline chided, trying to ignore just what that particular endearment did to her concentration. "I have no interest in reminiscing when you decided to go AWOL and then turn up today wearing my grandmother's handkerchief of all things. Talk about insensitive."

"Says the girl wearing my necklace."

"You left that to me when you skulked away in the night, I never said you could steal my handkerchief," she muttered. "You know, when I said I needed space earlier I actually meant it, are you stalking me or something?"

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. If you must know, I felt the need for a bit of ice skating."

"I'm sure your tough reputation in Hell would be buoyed by that particular revelation," she quipped. "It's okay if you can't keep away from me, I know I'm just that irresistible." Caroline wouldn't usually say something so overtly vain but this conceited ass brought it out in her, especially after his day of challenging the bounds of her sanity.

"Anyone would think you're channeling a little bit of pride Ms Forbes," he goaded. "What would the elders in Heaven think of you succumbing to one of the seven deadly sins?"

"I'd blame it on your toxic influence, Mikaelson," she replied gruffly. "Now go away."

"I can't do that."

"You are unbelievable," she growled, sub consciously moving closer so that she could poke him in the chest accusingly. Even rugged up in a sweater, coat and scarf he still looked extremely delicious. "Why are you even here and by that I mean the real reason?" She noticed a slight tugging at the corners of his mouth already dreading his frustrating response but then his face stilled and he closed his eyes briefly before responding.

"I wanted to see you alone and without the peanut gallery commenting," he conceded. "And since this is where your parents took you as a child, I figured it was my best bet."

"Is this your idea of playing with me? Remembering all the memories I confided in you and attempting to recreate them in some messed up way to wear me down in the negotiations?"

"Says the girl who set up our meeting amongst wedding city at the Plaza," he drawled. "Everything was eerily similar right down to the white peonies on the table. If anyone is trying to play games it's you judgy."

"How do you remember all of this anyway?" She questioned, unable to help herself.

"I remember everything, Caroline," he rasped, his blue eyes gazing into hers almost desperately. "Every memory, every laugh, every tear and every word." Caroline felt herself spiralling and had no intention of doing it in front of such an arrogant idiot that only cared about himself and his evil reputation.

"Well, good for you," she uttered, trying not to lose it completely. After all, that's exactly what he wanted. "But I have far better things to do with my night, so I'll see you in the morning."

"But..." Before he could continue she was pushing through the gathered crowds and making her way hastily towards the park's nearest exit. Let's see how he liked it when someone cut off his conversation mid-sentence.

xxxx

"Has anyone told you that you're such a tragic cliché?" A rich and hypnotic voice enquired in his ear, obviously trying to override the loud music pumping out into the crowded bar. Kol turned around curiously, inhaling her jasmine scent and looking into the chocolate brown orbs of Bonnie Bennett.

"I might be a cliché but you were the one who came to seek me out after apparently being so disgusted earlier," he replied, gleefully. This was turning out better than he'd expected. "How exactly did you track me down, Bennett?"

"Hell's Kitchen? Funnily enough it was blatantly obvious, Hell Boy," she responded dryly. "And despite your burgeoning and, might I add, unchecked ego the only reason I sought you out was to find Caroline."

"Why would I know where she is? We don't exactly run in the same circles thankfully."

"But she and your brother do, well you know in a weird roundabout way. She never came back to the hotel and I'm worried." One look at her earnest but slightly distracted expression confirmed that his suspicions were finally confirmed. Klaus had been brief on detail about their past when they'd travelled to New York but after he saw his mother's necklace on Caroline Forbes he was all but convinced she meant so much more to him than he'd admit. Call him shallow and self absorbed but Kol could spot a lie a mile away.

"And what exactly do you expect me to do?"

"Well, let's see," she growled. "Tell me where that heathen is so I can express my views in an entirely unfriendly and argumentative way for hurting my friend. Violence may ensue but that's only if I get really worked up."

"Between you and me, I think you shared more than enough of your views today," he offered.

"Well so did you but are you just going to ignore my request to make a point?" Kol was tempted to come back with another witty retort but for some reason her longing stare was causing more than a few foreign feelings and not just because she was beautiful but because she challenged him unlike anyone else had before.

"If I help you find them, you're going to have to do something for me first." Bonnie looked as if she was going to argue but bit her upper lip obviously knowing that she needed his assistance.

"Okay, but if this includes me shedding any clothing or sexual activity of any kind you're deluding yourself, Mikaelson."

"Believe it or not, it was much more G rated," he drawled. "I want to know everything about Niklaus and Caroline."

xxxx

The knocks came in sharp bursts at his hotel room door. Klaus didn't even bother to put on a t-shirt, walking groggily towards the incessant noise in nothing but tight, grey boxer shorts and his black wings stretching out freely from the restraints of his day in disguise. He figured it was his drunken and unruly brother come to ruin his attempt at sleep. After Caroline had runaway, Klaus had scoured the streets in search of her but to no avail. He'd returned to his room dejectedly, determined to get some rest before he had to face her again in the morning.

When he'd hastily gone to Central Park, Klaus had been on autopilot knowing that his feelings for Caroline couldn't be contained even under Lucifer's command in Hell. But the reaction he'd received was so bitter and resentful and Klaus wondered if she'd ever forgive him. He opened the door lazily expecting his brother to bound inside but it was Caroline standing there with a telling scowl on her face.

It had obviously rained in the interim because she was soaked, her blonde hair dripping down her back and onto her coat as her teeth chattered uncontrollably. It took all his willpower not to envelop her in his arms and wrap his wings around her to provide some much needed warmth. He briefly wondered how she knew how to find him at the Waldorf Astoria but figured it was probably one half of the bumbling duo of Josh or Kol, not that he cared in the slightest bit if it brought her to him.

"Why did you leave me?" She asked finally. Her voice was low and thick with emotion. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"

"I wanted to," he murmured.

"But you were a coward."

"I couldn't stay," he admitted. "You know I wasn't meant for Heaven, surely you could see that during our months together. I didn't belong there."

"But yet you supposedly belong in Hell? Yes, you were a criminal but one that selflessly saved my life Klaus and last time I checked someone with true evil at his core would never do something like that."

"Maybe you don't really know me," Klaus bit out, his emotions causing him to falter. "Maybe I can't be saved."

"Do you love me?" She asked moving inside and closing the door behind her, reaching up to his exposed wings and rubbing her hand along their length soothingly. Klaus shuddered at just what effect her touch was having on him. They'd only kissed previously but this was a whole other experience. He could feel his boxers tighten wondering just how long he could maintain his control as she stroked him so intimately.

"You know I do," he shivered.

"Because anybody capable of love is capable of being saved."

"Caroline..." he tried to object but she was wearing down the last remaining shreds of his willpower.

"I love you but you left," she murmured. "Why? I deserve an explanation at least." She pleaded, her eyes silently begging him for the truth. Klaus had wanted to protect her, he figured it was better that way but here she was completely vulnerable and he couldn't deny her anymore. Klaus moved away and sat on the bed to regain his composure from her touch, head in hands.

"Lucifer found out I'd been mistakenly sent to Heaven through his network of spies. He demanded Heaven release me or his revenge would be extreme."

"In what way?" She asked, sitting by his side.

"He threatened your parents, said that he would take their only child away to serve him in Hell."

"And they made you leave," she broke down, her body now wracked with sobs. "They sent you away to save me." Klaus snaked his arm around her waist in an attempt to comfort her as she cried, this was news he never wanted to share.

"Hell is the right place for me. I make my own choices, like the day I met you," Klaus reassured her, pulling Caroline closer so that she was now nestled in his arms, her head resting in the crook of his neck as her tears ran down her face and onto his bare skin. "Don't you know I would do anything for you, love?"

"I suppose I should by now," she mumbled into his skin. "But my parents..."

"Only wanted what was right for you, sweetheart. They wanted you to take over for them in Heaven and protect the innocent, it's your destiny."

"Except here we are both miserable without each other," she sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm starting to believe that neither of us belong in our chosen worlds."

"I suppose nothing really is just black and white."

"I'd give anything to just be with you on a desert island, away from everyone and all of these unrealistic expectations. I know I can do good work in the world, I don't need to be an angel to prove that fact."

"So, what exactly are you telling me? You'd spear fish, climb trees for coconuts and build us a thatched hut for shelter?"

"Stop being facetious," she chided. "But you know if you're not man enough to do any of those things, I'm sure I can pick up the slack." He'd been holding her tightly in his arms to this point but his fingers found her sensitive area and started to tickle playfully. One thing he knew after all their time together were her weak spots.

"Klaus, stop!" She giggled, unable to control her movements as he continued his attack on her skin, his lips now joining in the assault. Beginning along the length of her neck and dipping his head lower to feather kisses over her collar bone and creamy chest, dangerously close to her cleavage and the necklace he knew so intimately.

Klaus made a mental note to tell her about the necklace later and why it meant so much to him. After his mother died it was the last piece Klaus had of Esther so he wore it close to his chest. Even if she didn't understand its meaning, he wanted Caroline to have the same kind of comfort during his absence all those years. Every fibre of his being wanted so much to make love to her then and there but knew it wasn't the right time when everything was so unsettled between them and their worlds.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Well, you did ask."

"We both know that was just a figure of speech," she joked, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Klaus didn't think that such a simple gesture could feel so invigorating.

"This isn't the right time but just so you know you'll be begging me to stop when the time comes, love," he growled, nipping at her lips playfully and relishing in her heady taste of strawberries and vanilla.

"So, what exactly are we going to do about this mess?"

11 months later - somewhere on a deserted island

"When I suggested building a hut I didn't actually mean it, love."

"Oh what? Too afraid to admit how well a girl can do this?" Caroline asked cheekily, puffing out her chest proudly and momentarily forgetting that she was briefly dressed in a fitted, white bikini, a familiar necklace close to her heart as always.

"I'm sorry what did you say?" Klaus asked, his dazed expression telling Caroline that she'd distracted him yet again. It was a common occurrence, not that she was complaining especially after how long it had taken them to get to this point.

Turns out her parents might have withheld information but they'd made up for it in the best possible way, admitting they'd orchestrated Klaus and Caroline's reunion by excluding the council. Liz and Bill had explained how upset they'd been to see Caroline heartbroken and knowing they had contributed somewhat to that. Their other motives hadn't been quite so innocent, using Klaus and Caroline's rendezvous to broker a subsequent deal with Hell that would see Lucifer delay his attack in the short term.

By the time he realised Klaus' betrayal, he and Caroline were long gone and hiding in a secret location while Heaven had moved swiftly containing his threat and weakening his presence on earth. It wasn't the end but this round certainly was and Heaven was in a stronger position than ever to fight off any subsequent attacks on their innocents. Maybe Klaus had more good in him than he thought. Caroline and Klaus knew they couldn't live remotely forever and in hiding from Lucifer's revenge plot and had already started to make plans for their future. They were both extremely passionate and it wouldn't be them if they didn't want to help in the battle between good and evil. At least now they were on the same side and could do it together as a team.

Kol and Bonnie, who'd also defected from Hell and Heaven respectively given the ensuing turmoil, visited them often. They still fought incessantly but apparently it was the key to their incredibly intense sex life. Caroline knew better than to ask too many gory details but was happy her friends had found love just as she finally had with Klaus. Now, all she had to do was talk him into that Christmas wedding at the Plaza.

You can read and review this on FF and AO3 - thanks for reading!

[ganzeer-reviews]

EASY RIDERS, RAGING BULLS By Peter Biskind

o-o-o-o-o

When the two [John Wayne and Dennis Hopper] were working on True Grit, Wayne once flew his helicopter in from the minesweeper he kept at Newport Beach, landed on the Paramount lot, swaggered onto the soundstage with his .45 hanging from his belt, and bellowed, "Where's that pinko Hipper? That goddamn Eldridge Cleaver's out there at UCLA saying 'shit' and 'cocksucker' in front of my sweet daughters. I want that red motherfucker. Where is that commie hiding?"

Like the war between old gods and new in Gaiman's AMERICAN GODS, EASY RIDERS, RAGING BULLS chronicles the battle between Old Hollywood and New. Well into the 60's, Hollywood was still churning out the glamorous musicals and John Wayne Westerns that were popular in the 50's, but America was a different place that the big studio bosses didn't quite get or understand. Anti-War protests and the Civil Rights movement were taking hold. The already popular Nina Simone began addressing racial inequality in her songs, and Bob Dylan became the most popular singer/songwriter in the country, second possibly to The Beatles, who, even they –mere pop artists– couldn't avoid addressing the horrors of the Vietnam war. Television was new, and it was on TV that you could get a glimpse of people like Bob Dylan and The Beatles, who neither looked, sounded, or behaved like anyone on the silver screen. Television was also where you could see mad, groundbreaking ideas for the first time. Things like Star Trek and The Twilight Zone were miles ahead of any feature-length film starring John Wayne or Elizabeth Taylor. As the studios began to lose a lot of money, the control enacted over film-making was relinquished to smaller production outfits, which started giving directors full control over how they made movies. So radical were the results that first time filmmakers like Dennis Hopper, Francis Ford Coppola, and Martin Scorcese became stars almost overnight. And yes, you read that right. Dennis fucking Hopper. EASY RIDER is America's first biker movie, and thus spoke to Americans at the time in a way that no other film ever had. According to Biskind, it largely involved Hopper dicking around on set. The "set" being America's open roads. Nevertheless, it cost $501,000 to make, and brought $91.1 million in rentals. A huge, and very unexpected, return on investment. It won the First Work Award at the Cannes Film festival and was nominated for two Oscars, and Hopper was subsequently christened by LIFE magazine as "Hollywood's hottest director." It was 1969, and the gates of Hollywood finally swung open to welcome American counter-culture for the majority of the 70's. Arguably, the best decade in American film-making until Spielberg and Lucas showed up to introduce the formula for what would become the, ugh, summer blockbuster. The book is a treasure trove of "New Hollywood" history, and delves with great detail into some of the horrors, trials, and tribulations involved in making some of America's greatest films. Warren recommended it to me, after I had listened to this NPR interview with Coppola about the difficulties faced in making THE GODFATHER. And let me tell you, what is revealed in that interview is nothingcompared to what's in this here book. Not just in regards to Coppola, but pretty much every American filmmaker who rose to prominence in the 70's.

Paul [Schrader] made the call to his agent, Michael Hamilburg, said, "This is The Godfather meets Bruce Lee. It's gonna sell for sixty grand. You get a third of the money, I get a third, and Leonard [Schrader] gets a third."

Hamilburg gave them $5,000 on the spot. The brothers arrived in L.A. around Thanksgiving and rented a tiny apartment on Bicknell in Venice, a block from the beach, for $90 a month, which Hamilburg paid for. They took the bedroom doors off the hinges, stole some cinder blocks from a construction site, set up two desks, one in each bedroom, facing each other. The only other piece of furniture was a massive butcher block coffee table with wrought iron legs. They rented two electric typewriters, wrote three drafts in about eight weeks. They wrote around the clock, twenty, twenty-two hours a day, worked ten hours, slept one, very little food. Toward the end, around Christmas of '72, they were running out of money, even though they were spending less than a dollar a day, $7, $10 a week for food, stealing plastic envelopes of ketchup from restaurants, making tomato juice. "We sat down, took a good look at the script, and said to each other, 'We gotta write it one more time,'" recalls Leonard. "We were just wiped out, needed to find the energy to write one more draft. For us, the only surefire source of that big a jolt was guilt. We talked about, 'How we gonna get' – you didn't wanna go out and rob somebody – 'the guilt?' My brother said to me, 'We'll go to Vegas, lose our money, we'll feel so guilty, so pissed off, we'll come home and finish the script.'"

And sure enough, they did. And a couple paragraphs later:

Says Leonard, "There was an auction, sixteen bidders, it was the highest amount for original script ever sold at that point: $325,000."

The film that came out of it, THE YAKUZA, directed by Sydney Pollack, is... well, alright. But it did open the gateways for Paul Schrader who went on to write TAXI DRIVER and RAGING BULL, and eventually direct his own films, like HARDCORE and AMERIAN GIGOLO. But not before screwing his brother over.

When the dust settled, instead of an easy three-way split, The Yakuza money was split 40-40 between Paul and Hamilburg, with Leonard getting only 20 percent. "I wanted to have that sole screenwriting credit, so I made him take shared story credit," says Paul. Leonard looked the other way, pretended it hadn't happened.

Even though THE YAKUZA was originally Leonard's idea for a novel, before his brother convinced him to co-write it as a screenplay with him. Such personal stories aside, one can't help but see the overarching parallels between then and now. Like Old Hollywood back then, Hollywood today has been riding the wave of an old formula – the summer blockbuster – since well, the 80's really. Like Television in the 60's, the Internet has sprung up as the new media outlet through which one can experience things a little closer to today's equivalent of "counter-culture." The internet became home to some of Cory Doctorow's first novels, it is where the art of Molly Crabapple first saw the light, where live video was being broadcast from the heart of the Arab Spring, where people are Tumbling their homemade unairbrushed porn, where kids are producing microfiction using cell phones, and where you can hear Kim Boekbinder sing Pussy Grabs Back in response to Donald Trump. Again, there is a sense that big media outlets are stuck in their old ways, producing things that are far removed from the pulse of now. But if recent hits like MOONLIGHT and GET OUT are any indication, it seems like Hollywood may be catching up. MOONLIGHT is an honest portrayal of homosexuality in an African American community. GET OUT unapologetically tackles the horrors of racism by way of a popular genre film. One of them won the Oscar for best film, and the other is the highest grossing film by a writer/director in the history of American cinema. These are game-changers that tell us that the decade to come will be nothing short of a cultural revolution. And that excites me.

[Available on Amazon]

Ganzeer April 29, 2017

[meganrosereads-blog]

2018 New Releases

I love finding new releases. There’s something just so satisfying (and smug) about being one of the first to read an amazing book before everyone else. I often like to trawl the web and find out about the new books and debuts that pique my interest and note them down, because who doesn’t love a good list right???

So here are the first 10 books to be released in 2018 that I have my eye on.

Glass Town by Steven Savile - UK release 13 January 2018 (Fantasy) - St Martin’s Press

“ In 1926, two brothers both loved Eleanor Raines, a promising young actress from the East End of London. But, along with Seth Lockwood, she disappeared, never to be seen again. Isaiah, Seth’s younger brother, refused to accept that she was just gone. It has been seventy years since and the brothers are long dead. But now their dark, twisted secret, threatens to tear the city apart. Seth made a bargain with Damiola, an illusionist, to make a life size version of his most famous trick, and hide away part of London to act as a prison out of sync with our time, where one year passes as one hundred. That illusion is Glass Town. And now its walls are failing. Reminiscent of Clive Barker’s Weaveworld and Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, Savile brings out the magic in the everyday. Glass Town is full of gritty urban landscapes, realistic characters, conflict, secrets, betrayals, magic, and mystery.”

Swan Song by Kerry Andrew - UK release 25 January 2018 (Literary Fiction) - Jonathan Cape

“ In this stunningly assured, immersive and vividly atmospheric first novel, a young woman comes face-to-face with the volatile, haunted wilderness of the Scottish Highlands. Polly Vaughan is trying to escape the ravaging guilt of a disturbing incident in London by heading north to the Scottish Highlands. As soon as she arrives, this spirited, funny, alert young woman goes looking for drink, drugs and sex – finding them all quickly, and unsatisfactorily, with the barman in the only pub. She also finds a fresh kind of fear, alone in this eerie, myth-drenched landscape. Increasingly prone to visions or visitations – floating white shapes in the waters of the loch or in the woods – she is terrified and fascinated by a man she came across in the forest on her first evening, apparently tearing apart a bird. Who is this strange loner? And what is his sinister secret? Kerry Andrew is a fresh new voice in British fiction; one that comes from a deep understanding of the folk songs, mythologies and oral traditions of these islands. Her powerful metaphoric language gives Swansong a charged, hallucinatory quality that is unique, uncanny and deeply disquieting,”

The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar - UK release 25 January 2018 (Historical Fiction/Magical Realism) - Harvill Secker

“One September evening in 1785, the merchant Jonah Hancock hears urgent knocking on his front door. One of his captains is waiting eagerly on the step. He has sold Jonah’s ship for what appears to be a mermaid. As gossip spreads through the docks, coffee shops, parlours and brothels, everyone wants to see Mr Hancock’s marvel. Its arrival spins him out of his ordinary existence and through the doors of high society. At an opulent party, he makes the acquaintance of Angelica Neal, the most desirable woman he has ever laid eyes on… and a courtesan of great accomplishment. This meeting will steer both their lives onto a dangerous new course, on which they will learn that priceless things come at the greatest cost. Where will their ambitions lead? And will they be able to escape the destructive power mermaids are said to possess? In this spell-binding story of curiosity and obsession, Imogen Hermes Gowar has created an unforgettable jewel of a novel, filled to the brim with intelligence, heart and wit.”

The Wicked Cometh by Laura Carlin - UK release 1 February 2018 (Historical Fiction) - Hodder & Stoughton

“ The year is 1831 Down the murky alleyways of London, acts of unspeakable wickedness are taking place and no one is willing to speak out on behalf of the city’s vulnerable poor as they disappear from the streets. Out of these shadows comes Hester White, a bright young woman who is desperate to escape the slums by any means possible. When Hester is thrust into the world of the aristocratic Brock family, she leaps at the chance to improve her station in life under the tutelage of the fiercely intelligent and mysterious Rebekah Brock. But whispers from her past slowly begin to poison her new life and both she and Rebekah are lured into the most sinister of investigations. Hester and Rebekah find themselves crossing every boundary they’ve ever known in pursuit of truth, redemption and passion. But their trust in each other will be tested as a web of deceit begins to unspool, dragging them into the blackest heart of a city where something more depraved than either of them could ever imagine is lurking … “

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton - UK release 8 February 2018 (Mystery) - Raven Books

“A brilliantly original high concept murder mystery from a fantastic new talent: Gosford Park meets Inception, by way of Agatha Christie ‘Somebody’s going to be murdered at the ball tonight. It won’t appear to be a murder and so the murderer won’t be caught. Rectify that injustice and I’ll show you the way out.’ It is meant to be a celebration but it ends in tragedy. As fireworks explode overhead, Evelyn Hardcastle, the young and beautiful daughter of the house, is killed. But Evelyn will not die just once. Until Aiden – one of the guests summoned to Blackheath for the party – can solve her murder, the day will repeat itself, over and over again. Every time ending with the fateful pistol shot. The only way to break this cycle is to identify the killer. But each time the day begins again, Aiden wakes in the body of a different guest. And someone is determined to prevent him ever escaping Blackheath…”

The Coffin Path by Katherine Clements - UK release 8 February 2018 (Gothic/Horror) - Headline Review 

“ The Coffin Path by Katherine Clements is an eerie and compelling seventeenth-century ghost story set on the dark wilds of the Yorkshire moors. For fans of Michelle Paver and Sarah Waters, this gothic tale will weave its way into your imagination and chill you to the bone. ‘The vibrant new voice of historical fiction’ - Suzannah Dunn. Mercy Booth has lived at Scarcross, the old hall just off the coffin path, for all her life. The moors and the house are in her blood - and her soul. Ellis Ferreby is a mysterious, unpredictable outsider who arrives there unexpectedly and finds himself increasingly drawn into her world. But the house holds a tainted history. And the moor top hides something far darker…”

The Sealwoman’s Gift by Sally Magnusson - UK release 8 February 2018 (Historical Fiction) - Two Roads

“ In 1627 Barbary pirates raided the coast of Iceland and abducted some 400 of its people, including 250 from a tiny island off the mainland. Among the captives sold into slavery in Algiers were the island pastor, his wife and their three children. Although the raid itself is well documented, little is known about what happened to the women and children afterwards. It was a time when women everywhere were largely silent. In this brilliant reimagining, Sally Magnusson gives a voice to Ásta, the pastor’s wife. Enslaved in an alien Arab culture Ásta meets the loss of both her freedom and her children with the one thing she has brought from home: the stories in her head. Steeped in the sagas and folk tales of her northern homeland, she finds herself experiencing not just the separations and agonies of captivity, but the reassessments that come in any age when intelligent eyes are opened to other lives, other cultures and other kinds of loving. The Sealwoman’s Gift is about the eternal power of storytelling to help us survive. The novel is full of stories - Icelandic ones told to fend off a slave-owner’s advances, Arabian ones to help an old man die. And there are others, too: the stories we tell ourselves to protect our minds from what cannot otherwise be borne, the stories we need to make us happy.”

Folk by Zoe Gilbert - UK release 8 February 2018 (Fantasy/Literary Fiction) - Bloomsbury

“ Every year they gather, while the girls shoot their arrows and the boys hunt them out. The air is riddled with spiteful shadows - the wounds and fears and furies of a village year. On a remote and unforgiving island lies a village unlike any other: Neverness. A girl is snatched by a water bull and dragged to its lair, a babe is born with a wing for an arm and children ask their fortunes of an oracle ox. While the villagers live out their own tales, enchantment always lurks, blighting and blessing in equal measure. Folk is a dark and sinuous debut circling the lives of one generation. In this world far from our time and place, the stories of the islanders interweave and overlap, their own folklore twisting fates and changing lives. A captivating, magical and haunting debut novel of breathtaking imagination, from the winner of the 2014 Costa Short Story Award.”

The Toymakers by Robert Dinsdale - UK release 8 February 2018 (Fantasy/Historical Fiction) - Del Rey

“Do you remember when you believed in magic? The Emporium opens with the first frost of winter. It is the same every year. Across the city, when children wake to see ferns of white stretched across their windows, or walk to school to hear ice crackling underfoot, the whispers begin: the Emporium is open! It is 1917, and London has spent years in the shadow of the First World War. In the heart of Mayfair, though, there is a place of hope. A place where children’s dreams can come true, where the impossible becomes possible – that place is Papa Jack’s Toy Emporium. For years Papa Jack has created and sold his famous magical toys: hobby horses, patchwork dogs and bears that seem alive, toy boxes bigger on the inside than out, ‘instant trees’ that sprout from boxes, tin soldiers that can fight battles on their own. Now his sons, Kaspar and Emil, are just old enough to join the family trade. Into this family comes a young Cathy Wray – homeless and vulnerable. The Emporium takes her in, makes her one of its own. But Cathy is about to discover that while all toy shops are places of wonder, only one is truly magical… “

The Philosopher’s Flight by Tom Miller - UK release 13 February 2018 (Fantasy) - Simon & Schuster

“ A thrilling debut from ER doctor turned novelist Tom Miller, The Philosopher’s Flight is an epic historical fantasy set in a World-War-I-era America where magic and science have blended into a single extraordinary art. “Like his characters, Tom Miller casts a spell.” (Matthew Pearl, author of The Dante Club and The Last Bookaneer) Eighteen-year-old Robert Weekes is a practitioner of empirical philosophy—an arcane, female-dominated branch of science used to summon the wind, shape clouds of smoke, heal the injured, and even fly. Though he dreams of fighting in the Great War as the first male in the elite US Sigilry Corps Rescue and Evacuation Service—a team of flying medics—Robert is resigned to mixing batches of philosophical chemicals and keeping the books for the family business in rural Montana, where his mother, a former soldier and vigilante, aids the locals. When a deadly accident puts his philosophical abilities to the test, Robert rises to the occasion and wins a scholarship to study at Radcliffe College, an all-women’s school. At Radcliffe, Robert hones his skills and strives to win the respect of his classmates, a host of formidable, unruly women. Robert falls hard for Danielle Hardin, a disillusioned young war hero turned political radical. However, Danielle’s activism and Robert’s recklessness attract the attention of the same fanatical anti-philosophical group that Robert’s mother fought years before. With their lives in mounting danger, Robert and Danielle band together with a team of unlikely heroes to fight for Robert’s place among the next generation of empirical philosophers—and for philosophy’s very survival against the men who would destroy it. In the tradition of Lev Grossman and Deborah Harkness, Tom Miller writes with unrivaled imagination, ambition, and humor. The Philosopher’s Flight is both a fantastical reimagining of American history and a beautifully composed coming-of-age tale for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider.”

[womanonthe111]

ERIK

Erik was born in Silesia, wherever that is. It’s difficult to pin down since it has been a constantly changing entity since the ninth century. It has sometimes been Moravian, Bohemian, Russian, German, or Polish.  Eric is fiercely Polish. He speaks most of the languages but often sleeps in doorways, underpasses, bus shelters and other havens from the street. He is very proud of the fact he once slept in a bank. When a guard found him in the morning and threatened to call the police, he suggested that the guard might think about his job security. A guard who misses a full grown rough sleeper amidst the offers for mortgages and low rate loans might not have too much security in security.

Eric is an alcoholic and has probably been one from his first drink.  Presumably he was born one. He is 38 but looks much older especially after a long bender. He doesn’t have that many teeth but he has a beautiful, innocent smile. He has pale blue eyes with a tinge of yellow due to his chronic liver disease. His hair is mousy brown, cut very short like a Russian army cadet.  He stoops slightly when he walks as all very tall men do. He claims the reason he is so tall, like many other eastern Europeans is the result of the fallout from Chernobyl in 1986.  He has a very pale skin that is becoming less blotchy since he has been attending the homeless shelter. He wears a black puffa jacket, circa late 90’s,   with a Manchester United logo where the breast pocket should be. As a rabid Manchester United fan, it is his prise possession and I never seen him without it. He buys the rest of his clothes from the day centre where each item costs 20p. They are well worn and were in fashion in the 70s and 80’s. They might have looked chic on a northern quarter retro but on him they marked him as a street person. His hands shake due to years of drink and drug abuse. His breath smells of alcohol first thing in the mornings but I have never seen him drunk. He is very polite in an old fashioned way and opens doors and steps back when we go through. He is a very gentle person who volunteers around the day centre. He helps Sister Lucy with the food parcels and being strong will lift tables and donated furniture.   When well and not drinking too much he is caring and warm towards his friends and to the very vulnerable people who visit the centre and saves food for people too shy or damaged to ask. He comes across as innocent and pathetically proud despite the horrors of living on the street. If the proceeds of begging have been good he will give his friends 20p to buy clean clothes but he can be arrogant and dismissive if he doesn’t like you.

He was brought up in rural Silesia or Poland under communist rule. He was often sent to the shops by his mother for food. There was never anything available from her list and he says he was brought up on black bread and mustard which were the only things commonly available. His father escaped Poland and became a migrant worker in Germany when Eric was very small. The children were refused permission to join him in Germany and they subsequently lived in poverty. As is so often the case when families are separated, his father remarried and had other children in Germany and forgot about his first family.

All Eric cared about was football. He was a talented footballer who was signed up early for his home team as a teenager. He had the perfect life. He was doing what he always wanted to do and getting good money for it. He married and had two children. He was looking at a privileged life as a footballer until an injury abruptly cut off his sporting care. He needed to make a living to support his new young wife and their two small children so he did what his father had done, and went to Germany to work.

He made a lot of money but drank it. The more he earned, the more he drank. He worked and partied all over Europe and led the free and easy life of a young man having a good time. He learned German and had fun every night. The family back home became a guilty memory as he drank all his wages and began to send less and less home.

He came to London 10 years ago and couldn’t find a job and ended up on the streets. The guilt and self-hatred drew him to more drink and more drugs. Whilst begging on the side steps of St Martin in the Fields he used to eavesdrop on the concerts inside when things were quiet. Though proud of all things Polish, he hated the Chopin Recitals but he developed a love of classical music. After his second heart attack at 36 due to an overdose of doctored street drugs he nearly died. He left London and came to Manchester after a charity offered him a bed in a shelter. However despite having chronic liver and heart disease he continued to drink and remained a rough sleeper.  

Friday night is still Friday night, even when you’re homeless. Erik and his polish friends usually buy their cider, or if feeling rich, cheap vodka from Aldi and go to the local park to have their Friday night celebrations. The smug bastards as my friend Deb likes to call them, visiting the art gallery close by on the edge of the park, don’t give the partygoers eye contact as they whisk off to a retro bar in town or a foreign film at the art house cinema down the road.

The four polish friends gradually became legless, laughing and quarrelling till the drink ran out. There was no moon and it was dark in the park. The little community support officers in their red hats and red toy town uniforms were due at midnight so the friends separated stumbling and muttering to their respective domiciles under the Mancunian Way.  None of them had money for a shelter and anyway it was too late and they were too drunk to be allowed in. Recently he’d had a good pitch in a doorway of the biology department of the university. It was a lot safer than the underpass and the university guards didn’t move him on until they did their rounds at six in the morning. Feeling hungry Erik thought he’d walk into town to see if the van was there. The born again crowd gave out free soup and sandwiches most nights.

He started walking crookedly through the trees towards the gates when he heard the voices. He could hear them getting closer and knew that he should hide or run but he was too drunk so he did neither. There were five of them, in their twenties with that arrogant stagger that young bullies have when they are in a group.  With their shaved heads and aggressive simian posturing he imagined this is what the gangs of black shirts looked like to a Jew in war torn Warsaw. Seeing their cruel ugly faces he felt undiluted and unadulterated terror surging through his whole body. He could feel his heart banging in his chest like it did with the first hit of the contaminated cocaine that dark day in London. He was going to have another heart attack.  The leader shouted something that Erik didn’t understand and he countered “skurwysyny”. That was the trigger. The fact that he wasn’t English as well as being a street person was enough.  The first kick propelled him to the ground. He felt more teeth go as a boot hit his mouth. One of them kicked him in the groin as another stamped on his right hand.  

They broke most of his bones. I found out about the attack when the police came to the day centre to ask for witnesses to the assault. They knew who he was because he had hidden his passport in the pocket of his Manchester united jacket. Erik died yesterday. He had been in intensive care in a coma and they said if he had survived he would have been brain damaged.

Street people get tired of walking and they have to sit somewhere when they have no home to go to. The parks are places where the homeless can go without being moved on too often but as Erik found out they can be much more dangerous than the streets.