❝You're a world away, somewhere in the crowd, in a foreign place, are you happy now?❞

-- Zedd, Elley Duhe

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

Elijah sat in his study, reading a very old looking journal. His eyes darted upwards as Roxanne sauntered into the room. She smiled widely at him and settled down in the chair across from him. He gently closed the leatherbound book, its pages were yellowed with age and crinkled as the cover settled gently onto them. 

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs  at the ankles as he observed the blonde. Her gray eyes were bright, and her blonde hair was in a high ponytail. She was wearing mascara that made her long lashes appear longer. 

"Hello, Elijah." 

He tilted his head and wet his lips with his tongue, smiling curiously at her. "Hello, Ms. St. Claire." His reserved posture was a clear indication of the distrust he held towards the blonde. His fingers rested together on the desk, creating an arch above the leather journal. His silver ring was heavy on his hand.

Roxanne looked around the office, eyeing the books and shelves. "You have quite the collection, don't you?" Her head cocked and she grinned widely at him. Her cheerful disposition was intriguing to the vampire, her personality was bubbly and charismatic. So different than many others he'd met in this town. She reminded him of a giddy child, but one that held many secrets. 

Elijah nodded, peering at his books. His collection. Many of his journals over the centuries were on those shelves, alongside first editions of books that no longer existed. In languages that had been lost to time. Languages he knew very well. He sometimes considered going to a museum and sitting down with a historian, discussing how things in history actually went down. He could write a book about all the things historians got wrong. 

His dark eyes surveyed her posture, her relaxed position and big smile. Her lips were full and pink, like rose petals. She was pale, yet had hints of color in her cheeks. Her eyebrows were thin and arched, giving her a constant mischievous look. 

The character Peter Pan came to mind as he watched her. 

She was completely still, not a muscle flexed as she lounged in the chair across the desk from him. Her legs were crossed, her figure relaxed and she seemed as if she owned the place. Completely and utterly at home. 

"What can I do for you, Roxanne?" He queried, tapping his index lightly on the leather cover of his journal. Her eyes flitted to the book briefly before meeting his gaze again. She was perfectly still, obviously used to the passing of time. Like him. He didn't believe her to be mortal, not really. She was too patient and too relaxed in the presence of vampires. He suspected her immortality was a vast part of her personality. What shaped her confidence and aura.

Roxanne licked her lips and slowly brought her thumbnail to her mouth. Every movement she made was premeditated. He could tell from how precisely she acted. Every step, every breath, flinch, smile, or scowl, was all planned accordingly. She began to carefully chew on the nail, her teeth tugging on the nail plate and scraping over the pad of her thumb slightly. She was feigning nervousness and she was doing it well. 

"I'm in need of . . . advice. Someone to listen." Her eyes flitted away and then back, a look of embarrassment crossing her stunning face. He suspected that was fake as well, but could not tell. She was a wonderful actress. 

The noble stag was surprised but didn't show it. He wasn't expecting her to come to him for anything, especially not advice. To him, it remained apparent that her game was with Niklaus. He'd heard from his brother what she'd said. About the Ghostess. She was here to toy with the Hybrid Mikaelson, and Elijah had been content to let her. Niklaus could handle himself, he knew. 

He nodded, and waved his hand to the door. "This room is soundproof from prying ears. You can close the door and we'll have privacy." 

She nodded and stood, closing the heavy, oak door carefully. Her gray eyes met him as soon as she knew that they really were alone. He could hear her heart in her chest, it was slow and rhythmic but every so often it jumped a beat. She was nervous. Actually nervous, not faking it. 

He felt some excitement bubble in his chest at getting to understand the woman's secrets. Getting to know a little bit more about the enigma that resided so comfortably in their home. 

Her gaze darted around the room as she took her seat and steepled her fingers together on the desk. Her eyes were downcast, focused on the wood grains of the desk and he heard her breath fan over her skin. A soft, loose exhale that brought with it the smell of mint. She'd been chewing gum. 

"I suspect you have your theories about me." Her gray eyes peered up from under doll-like lashes, her full mouth pursed slightly. 

He nodded, looking down at his journal. Thoughts and memories can be rewritten, but the private written word cannot. If his memories over the years had been tampered with, his journals would tell him. He was grateful to himself for his diligence and writing everything down every day of the past one thousand years. He'd been searching his old journals to see what he could find about Niklaus's past lovers. The only thing he found was a mention of a 'Katya' from back before they turned. A vague mention, and barely familiar. He knew the name but could not truly recall from what. 

There had been so many names and faces over the centuries, lots of them blended together. His brother as a human had been very secretive, as well. So any lovers he may have had would not have been introduced to the family. Elijah was certain of that. 

He studied her posture, her face which showed nothing, and then listened to her pulse. Her quiet, pounding heart. "You are clearly close to the one that Niklaus has hunted. The Ghostess," he spoke gently, prodding her for answers. 

She nodded, monitoring him quietly. "Yes. I've made that clear to your siblings." Her chin tilted upwards slightly, as if she was balancing an object on the end. Looking down her nose at him with a careful scrutinization. 

"You are either family or lovers. I'm suspecting the first more than the second." Flashing a smile, the blonde nodded in agreement. Elijah looked down at the book silently and then back at her. "Her name is Katya, and she and Niklaus were lovers before we were turned." 

He heard her heart skip a careless beat. He'd hit the jackpot, then. The Ghostess was Katya, and she had manipulated his brother's memories somehow. He saw her smile drop. Her heart pounded faster and her eyes darted to the journal and then back to his eyes. He was right. 

Roxanne swallowed sharply and looked at the shelves of books and her lips pressed firmly together. "Katya was . . . she was young when she met him. Not as young as him, but young compared to now. They very quickly fell for each other. Deeply." Roxanne sighed, and he watched her carefully. She was very still. Like she was remembering something from long ago. He wondered if she'd been there, but that would make her over a thousand years old. "He loved her. She protected him from Mikael, and he offered her something she didn't have. Normalcy. However, danger soon came. Like Klaus spent much of his immortal life being hunted by your father, she has a similar enemy. He threatened Klaus's life, and Katya had no choice." Roxanne looked up at her, there was a desperation in her eyes. "She had no choice. She had to hide those memories. For his protection." 

Elijah nodded, he'd suspected as much. What he hadn't suspected was how much their story seemed to affect Roxanne. "You and Katya are sisters, then? I thought the Ghostess only had one sister, Elisabette." His brain was working quickly and quietly, trying to figure out who this girl was. The sister of the Ghostess. The sister of Elisabette. But never heard of, her name lost to time. Perhaps hidden in time. She wasn't as infamous as her sisters, clearly. 

Roxanne went still again at the name. "Elisabette. I haven't heard that name in a very long time." Her gray eyes studied the bookshelves, and he observed her. Her jaw ticked and a muscle feathered beneath her pale skin. He saw a vein pumping blood in her forehead, barely noticeable. Her shoulders were slightly tighter than they had been a few minutes ago and her relaxed posture has straightened. 

She was nervous. Angry, even. But he sensed guilt in her singing voice. 

He'd heard that the Ghostess and Elisabette had lost contact. They'd been infamous for being partners in crime. Two names that haunted every household for many years. 

Roxanne shook her head and met his dark, curious gaze. "I am close to Katya, I admit. But, not sisters." The blonde blinked quickly and smiled widely to cover the pain he sensed. "Just dear friends, almost family." That explained the lack of knowledge about the girl. Not a sister to the Ghostess. A friend, instead. 

Elijah nodded and then frowned. "But, she wouldn't come to your defense if Niklaus killed you?" His head tilted, he watched her. "She wouldn't protect her friend?" She sounded selfish, but he should not have been surprised.

The Ghostess was known for her outlandish acts. The deaths she had caused and murders she had performed. Her name and life was soaked in blood, it had seeped so deeply into her skin that her hands were now permanently stained. She was a monster and a murderer. A psychopath in every form of the word. The most dangerous person in history. 

"I can take care of myself." Roxanne met his gaze, her soft eyes were like a storm at sea. A brewing, gray force that hung heavy around her pupils. Shadowed by her brow and long lashes. 

He rose an eyebrow at this remark and decided to return to the story. "Katya removed herself from Niklaus and our heads, then. I suspect it wasn't the last time, though." He didn't see the Ghostess as someone that would let her lover slip from her fingers. 

Roxanne shook her head, staring down at the table. "Katya wanted him safe. She left him for good." That was the first time that Roxanne lied since entering the office. But, he didn't say anything about it. 

"You think you can stop her from hurting my brother?" 

She fidgeted with the tail of her ponytail, wrapping the blonde strands around her index finger carefully. Her nails were painted a soft lavender, he suspected she'd gotten a manicure when she was with Rebekah. "I won't have to. I just have to stop him from making a decision that will get him killed," Roxanne said curtly, rolling her eyes. "I'm leaving soon, anyway. So, he doesn't have to worry about having a permanent babysitter." 

The Mikaelson watched the blonde carefully and then gently, ever so gently, he reached out his hand. "You love him, too, don't you?" His words were careful, but he knew them to be true. He could see it. He'd looked in the mirror enough times to know what agonized love looks like. 

Roxanne looked away, and he didn't need an answer. 

She loved his brother, but she would protect him for her friend. 

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

The moon was waxing to a full. Roxanne walked beneath the stars in the yard behind the mansion. Her gray gaze was focused on the inky sky, the carpet of stars and especially the moon. She should be home with her pack, preparing for the full moon celebration. Not here, keeping an eye on a man who didn't even know her. 

A man she'd loved for a thousand years. 

She wondered what mortal Klaus would think of her now. How much she'd changed over these years. She doubted he even recognized her. A thousand years of heartbreak changes a person, and she had seen that glazed, forgotten look in his eyes countless times. As his memories of her seeped away, draining from his conscious mind and from anywhere he could access them. 

The blonde had seen the confusion and lack of recognition countless times too. It tore her to pieces. Her heart had been shattered a very long time ago. 

She walked barefoot through the grass, letting it tickle her feet. She had been on this planet for many, many years. Centuries had passed since she had been born into this plane. It made her contemplate her own existence. An owl hooted in the distance and Roxanne peered up into the well of nothingness above her. The world was small, barely a speck compared to the vastness of the universe. Her life meant nothing to the uncaring gods above. 

They had worlds upon worlds to look after, and this one was burning itself into Hell. 

The girl looked to her left as she heard the glass sliding doors open. The hybrid stood on the porch, watching her silently. He closed the door and approached carefully, his hands in his pockets and his gaze never wavering. 

She didn't move, and simply waited for him to approach. The two immortals watched each other carefully, studying each other's every move. He didn't know of her conversation with Elijah. The stag was good at keeping things private, and the information she had spilled didn't harm his family. 

Klaus stopped a few feet away, his face lacked emotion and a part of her just wanted to melt into his arms and cry like she had done so many times before. 

"Hello, Nik." 

He tilted his head and let out a long, tired sigh. "What're you doing out here, little dove?" 

Roxanne tried to not react to the old nickname. The old sign of affection that they shared. Back when things were simpler. She sensed that the use of the name was his subconscious reacting to her presence, nothing more. Memories couldn't be erased, only hidden. Or written over. 

"I'm contemplating time. Life. Loneliness," she replied with a tiny smile. He followed her gaze up to the sky. It hadn't changed much in a thousand years, and it wouldn't change much in the next thousand, either. 

"One can easily lose themself in thoughts like those," he remarked casually. She hummed her agreement and began to sit down on the grass, stretching her long legs out. He followed suit. "I still don't trust you." 

Roxanne laughed, looking over at him. His soft, golden curls. His nose, his chin, his mouth. The red maybelline color of his lips. "You've never trusted anyone." 

He didn't reply. 

"Klaus . . ."

"What did you mean? That she loves me? That memories can change?" He whispered into the air. For a moment, for just a moment, Roxanne thought he sounded scared. She knew the inflections in his voice so well, even with the evenness of it, there was a note in there. Hidden beneath the calm. A note of fear. 

She felt that hot iron-like guilt pour into her chest as it always did. The years and years of memory manipulation. Of taking away his choice to remember what he'd like. But . . . they'd had to. She couldn't doubt herself, it was too late now. 

Roxanne found the Big Dipper and didn't look away from it. "It's complicated."

He snarled and she froze at the angry growl. "I don't enjoy having my head messed with, witch." 

So, he'd decided she was a witch. That's fine. Her head tilted, her blonde hair hanging to the grass in a soft, golden sheet. An ant crawled across her ring finger and then back into the grass. 

Roxanne scoffed and sat up, facing him. He mimicked her. "I'm not lying, asshole. It's complicated and honestly, I don't even know where to start." 

"The beginning. Start in the beginning." 

Fidgeting with the grass at her feet, she ripped some out and tossed it away. "There is no beginning. You can't tell me every lover you've had. You've probably forgotten half the faces, she's just one of hundreds." 

Klaus shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I never forget a pretty face."

Roxanne cocked an eyebrow at him and tilted her chin up. There was one time in history she hadn't erased herself. She hadn't felt like she had to. Fifteen years ago. It had been the smallest of interactions, and it wouldn't endanger them. So, she had let him be. Let him live. 

"You forgot mine," she remarked casually, looking at him from under her lashes before going back to tugging at the grass. 

Klaus opened and closed his mouth and then sat there for a full minute, clearly trying to figure out how he knew her. It was like a lightbulb dinged above his head when he finally did. 

"The coffee shop." 

She nodded, smiling slightly. "The coffee shop."

He studied her, his gaze searching her face and his eyebrows were knitted together. "You were the barista. Your boyfriend picked you up after. I waited because I felt . . . a familiarity."

Roxanne nodded, studying him and then looked back at the growing pile of torn grass. "Yes. Not my boyfriend, but yes. All true."

The owl flew over them, quickly moving through the sky as it dove to the grass a few dozen feet away and then grabbed something and lifted off. Roxanne looked back at the sky just as a silver shooting star streaked past. It left a trail across the dark sky that faded after a moment. It looked like a tear, like the gods were crying.

"So, I'd met you before that." 

She tilted her head and observed him silently. "Did you?" 

Klaus growled at her and she stuck her tongue out petulantly. "Stop being so aggravating, love. It's not attractive." 

"Try it before you sell it, Niklaus," she responded coldly. 

He regarded her with a scowl clear on his stormy face. Broody werewolf. "Let me get this straight, then. You're a friend of the Ghostess, and you're here to protect me. You haven't aged after fifteen years and you can manipulate the memories of an Original." 

Roxanne threw her hands up in defense. "I never said I manipulated your memories." 

The hybrid sniffed. "Fine, then, correction: you happen to have the same tattoo as an Original and all of us feel like we know you but have never met you before. Sans the coffee shop." 

Roxanne nodded, liking that description more. "Good job, you can list facts." 

"I swear, sweetheart, your tongue is going to be ripped out if you don't watch what you say," he spoke with an iciness to his heavy voice. That romantic accent she remembered so well danced with his words. With his rage. She grinned widely at him. 

"I'm bored of this conversation, it's boring." 

Klaus frowned and looked around, as if searching for another topic. 

"Ooh!" Roxanne exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Want to play twenty questions?" He nodded, and she grinned. "Ok, I got something." 

Niklaus thought for a moment. "Is it living?" 

She nodded. 

"Is it an animal?" He studied her as she started picking at the grass again. 

Roxanne pursed her lips and nodded again. 

Klaus studied her quietly, and she let his eyes wander over her. "Is it a mammal?" 

She nodded, going to pick at a thread on her jeans. Her gaze flitted up to him and they stared at each other for a moment before looking away. 

"Is it a land animal?" He murmured, patiently watching her body for cues. She could tell he was dying to win this game. 

"You have sixteen questions left," Roxanne remarked, falling back in the grass and closing her eyes. "Also, yes." 

Klaus stretched his legs out and leaned back on his arms. He watched the sky as she rested quietly. "Canine?" 

Roxanne huffed through her nose. "You're very good at this. Yes." 

He laughed and the wind ruffled his curls. It tugged at his color and carressed his cheeks. Roxanne wished she was the wind. "Does it live in North America?" 

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p' with her lips. She cracked one eye open to briefly check him out. He was contently watching the sky, a soft smile playing on his lips. She wondered when was the last time he just played a game like this. Spoke to someone like a friend. Probably too long, she knew. She knew him all too well. 

God, what was she doing here in this house? With him? Revealing secrets to Elijah and falling in love with Niklaus again? (As if she'd ever fallen out of love with him). 

"South America?" 

She sighed and groaned, looking at him. "Yes." 

"Is it a Maned Wolf?" He laughed, looking at her with a raised brow. 

She sighed and buried her face in her arms. "Shut up." 

His laugh was loud and booming and she loved it. 

Edited

May 28th, 2020

Rewritten

March 22nd, 2023