Petrichor - e.mikaelson

16

"Elijah again?" Alaric asked, his face furrowing in concern.

"He'll get the hint eventually," she rolled her eyes, picking up the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde book and flipping through to the introduction, "There's not exactly much to say."

"It wouldn't hurt to just hear him out."

"Hi Elijah," she said sarcastically, "Sorry my friends tried to murder you and all your siblings and actually murdered your brother. Whoops. Look Ric its fine, it probably wouldn't have worked out between us anyway, he was in love with some middle ages version of me, I don't exactly fit the mould for some passive renaissance woman, at least now he's probably over whatever he thought there could be between us."

"You didn't do anything," Alaric pressed, "You weren't involved, you can't take the blame."

"Don't be ridiculous Ric," she sighed, standing from the bed, "Not stopping Damon and Stefan makes me just as culpable. Shit, you're supposed to be sleeping, not sorting out my guilt. I'm gonna grab Damons whiskey."

Alaric didn't have a chance to respond before Frankie had fled from the room, leaving the door to the cell unlocked behind her, not having the heart to trap her brother in. Stefan was in the living room as she reached the top of the staircase and he was already holding out the whiskey to her, three glasses in his other hand.

"You heard all that didn't you."

"Hmm?" Stefan hummed innocently.

"Christ you're a rotten liar," she rolled her eyes and laughed as they made their way back down to the cell, "No wonder that homecoming assassination attempt fell through, you really can't keep a straight face."

"Right," Stefan agreed, "Because you lied so well about getting stoned that time."

"Yeah but I had the added difficulty of being stoned as I tried to lie," she laughed, pouring the whiskey out for the three of them, "You're like dreadfully sober all the time and yet. . . "

"You're high an awful lot for that to be your downfall," Alaric cut in.

"What about I get my bowl and we can all get high? Come on Ric, you know I can knock you out real good."

"Lets give the whiskey a go first," Alaric said, holding his hands up in defeat, "You know Stefan, you didn't need to stay here. It doesn't take much to babysit me while I sit here waiting for a psychotic break."

"Well unfortunately," Stefan said with a grimace as he downed his drink, "we only have a limited amount of time."

"Before what?" asked Frankie.

"Before we have to resort to other methods."

"So you're worried you're going to have to torture me?" Alaric asked, "You don't think Damon could have done that?"

"He's not torturing you, Ric," Frankie snapped, "Don't be ridiculous this isn't what's happening, you just need to switch off and sleep."

"Well this is depressing, isn't it?" Klaus' voice cut through the conversation, loud and less humorous than he normally was, "Fantastic, Francesca you're alive, would you mind terribly answering your bloody phone so my brother stops thinking I've murdered you?"

"Don't be so overdramatic Klaus," she rolled her eyes, "Just tell Elijah I'm fine yourself."

"Believe me I've tried sweetheart, he seems to lack faith in me after you spilled the beans on our road trip. Now, I found this upstairs," here he held out a white oak stake that Damon had left hidden by the fireplace, "by my count, there should be one more."