Forgiveness Is Not A Weakness ~ { Klaus Mikaelson X Reader }

Part Three

The sound of screaming surrounds you. There's nothing but slaughter. You're definitely winning, but this was always the part of wars that you hated. Things never had to be this way if some people would learn to think more with their soul and less with their ass.

Clamping down onto your lip, you quietly get in the back of the SUV and take him into your arms. Everything is moving so fast, you're in and out before a second look.  Carrying him the best you can, you bolt off with a loud shout, letting the others know that you're leaving. Picking up your bag on the way, you head full speed into the thick trees, your wolf eyes allowing you to see better. You can feel Lance's magic around you, cloaking any tracking there might be on Nik.

Slowing down after you know you're at least a good fifty miles in the other direction, you come to a stop once you stumble across an abandoned cabin. It's nearly falling apart, but it's good enough for what you need it for. Walls and a roof. No one has been here for years by the looks of things. Going inside, there's two chairs and a table, one cot, and what looks like a small wood stove and fireplace. Carefully, you lay his body on the cot, knowing you need to work fast. Ripping open your bag, you pull out a lantern and flip it on, lighting up the entire cabin. It's the first time you're getting a good look at him, stopping you in your tracks for a second. His skin is completely gray, he's thinned out so much, and you can tell the fever has set in from the poison. He's deathly still, there's no movement at all besides the very faint sound of him breathing. Taking the syringe out with the antidote in it for the venom, you quickly kick the bag aside and sit the syringe down onto the chair. Blade first. "I'm so sorry I have to do this..." Ripping his worn shirt open, you quickly pierce your hand into his chest, instantly gripping the handle of the dagger. Elijah walked you through what you had to do in order to get it out earlier in the day. Carefully, you ease it out of his chest, tossing it to the floor. "Everythings going to be fine," you mutter, mostly trying to reassure yourself. "Everything's going to be fine." Taking the syringe, you bite the needle cover off and inject it into the area the dagger was stuck, then discarding that to the floor as well. There's only so much you can do for him, the rest is up to him and his body.

After wiping your hand off onto the dusty sheet of the cot, you pull out a small first aid kit and take out the needle and thread. You know he isn't going to heal like he's supposed to, not with the venom running through his body. You're not just going to let him lay here with a hole through his chest.  Moving the chair closer, you sit down and begin gingerly stitching him up. He's still silent, still motionless. You can only imagine what's going on in his mind right now.  You hate the fact that you didn't know about what was going on.  Surely, you could have helped before it got this bad.  You know and understand why Elijah didn't come to you sooner, but the point still stands.  If you had just listened to that small voice inside of your mind that was screaming out to you, maybe all of this could have been avoided.  Every single terrible moment.  Now, you've got Nik holding on to whatever life he has left, and his daughter who isn't even two yet having had to deal with things no child should.  As you pierce the needle in and out, your mind wanders, trying not to focus on your own pain.  You're covered in blood, a nasty mix of your own, Nik's, and everyone's whose heads you ripped off.  All you want to do is take a shower and relax for the evening, but that's obviously not an option.  You're still strongly in your fight or flight mentality, you're not going to rest until he's resting.

Tying off the last stitch, you cut the thread and place the supplies back into the box.  Not taking the time to clean yourself up, you slip back into your clothes and pull out a bag of blood.  Moving him ever so slightly, you sit down at the top of the cot and lay his head back against your legs.  Tilting his head back slightly, you let some of the blood drip into his mouth, hoping that it will cause him to stir.  His color instantly comes back the moment the first drop hits, but there's still no movement from him.  "Come on, Nik," you mutter as you let it drip.  You watch as the veins around his eyes slowly become visible.  Bringing his head up more, you slowly pour a small amount past his lips.  He's taking it in, but still not coming to.  A few minutes pass, and you manage to get the entire bag finished.  Tossing it to the ground, you wipe his lips with your sleeve.  It's been so long since you last saw him, and the last time he had a look of hatred on his face.  You stare down at him, taking in every feature.  Slowly, your fingertips begin stoking back and forth against his cheek.  In the calmness of the cold night, you lose all sense of anger you had towards him, whatever was left.  There's a fine line between loving Nikalus too much, or not enough, and it's a line that you've danced right in the middle of your entire relationship.  Giving him a cold shoulder when he deserved it and loving him fiercely when he needed it the most.  Even to this day, though you still feel hesitant to be in his presence, you would defend his life.  Like you just did tonight.