Diane Boudreaux's search came up dry.

The woman had scoured the streets of Mystic Falls, showing Andrea's picture to practically every resident in the quaint town, but, much to her dismay, not one person seemed to recognize her goddaughter, which only caused her to become more worried for the missing werewolf who had seemed to up and disappear in the wind without a trace. So, she went back to the Mystic Grill for a drink.

Diane sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks with her phone pressed to her ear. "I swear to Gods Andrea Diane Labonair, you better be dead," she said before hanging up with a sigh and downing the rest of her whiskey. That was the eighth time she had called Andrea today, and each time she failed to answer, the more worried she became. Even though she hated to think of it, she was starting to think that maybe her goddaughter had gotten herself into a sticky situation, or worse, was dead.

She dug into her purse and slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, thanking the man named Brian for his service, before turning on her heel and making her way toward the exit. Diane knew that Andrea wasn't in Mystic Falls anymore, but seeing as she didn't have a lead on where to look for her goddaughter next, she was going to get a hotel room for the night before she left in the morning to return home. At home, she would decide what to do next.

On her way out the exit, Diane passed by a young brunette and her blonde friend, who were making their way toward a table for dinner, and she felt a familiar shiver travel down her spine when their arms brushed each other's. In the blink of an eye, she saw a beautiful wedding. The groom was well-dressed in a fine tux, and the bride looked stunning in her white gown and veil. Both of them were grinning from ear-to-ear, looking as happy as they've ever been before the entire room erupted in chaos. Shards of glass and pools of blood littered the barn floor, white lights were dangling from the ceiling, knotted and broken, bulbs blinking, and a girl with dark hair and a maroon dress lay still in a sobbing woman's arms.

Diane blinked again and was brought back to reality. She stopped and whipped her head in the girl's direction, only to find the teenage girl wearing the same expression as herself. In that moment, both of them knew the other was a witch. But what had her visions of the girl meant? Was the girl meant to die, and she had foreseen her death? If so, why? Of all witches in the world, why did the universe send her a vision of someone she didn't even know?

She moved toward her and leant close to whisper, "Do yourself a favor and don't attend any weddings anytime soon."

The teenage girl stared at her in confusion and her blonde friend watched the encounter take place, unsure of what to do. Without saying another word, Diane slipped out the door and into the night, but before she could even make it to her car, she heard someone call after her.

"Hey, wait up!"

Diane turned around and found the teenage girl jogging to catch up with her. "What do you want, kid?"

"You're a witch," the girl said.

"Yes, and so are you. Are we done here, or would you like to point out more obvious facts about me?"

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Look, I've met witches before, but I've never had visions of another witch when I touched them. What does that mean?"

"It's rare for witches to encounter visions of each other, but it happens from time to time," Diane explained. She walked closer with narrowed eyes. "What is it you saw?"

"You were in a church," the girl began. "You were laying there on the podium, still as a rock, your eyes frozen in time and tears on your cheeks. There was blood. So much blood that I couldn't tell where it was coming from. And I could hear crying. But it didn't sound like just any cry. It was like . . . it was like a baby was crying."

Diane's eyes widened at the girl's words. A church? Blood? A baby's cry? What did all of that mean? Was I going to see a mother sometime soon?

"I think . . ." The girl's eyes grew sad as she stared at Diane's stomach before meeting the elder witch's gaze. "I think you might die in childbirth. I'm so sorry."

"Well, I am not pregnant, so I suppose there is nothing I need worry about," Diane gave a tight-lipped smile, while on the inside her heart was clenching tight. If what the girl said was true, that she would die in childbirth, did that mean the girl in the purple dress was the teenager girl standing before her? Does she die at the wedding?

"You mentioned a wedding," the girl said, pulling Diane from her thoughts. "Is that what you saw? Do I . . . do I die at a wedding?"

"I'm not too sure," Diane admitted. "The vision was far too dark for me to make out too much. But it was a wedding, of that I am sure of. There was glass and blood all over the floor, and two women with dark hair. I couldn't see their faces, but one of them was holding the other in their arms. I am certain she was dead. I could even hear the woman sobbing over her body."

The teenager swallowed and blinked her long eyelashes multiple times while avoiding eye contact. Diane frowned. She could tell that the girl was trying so hard to hold back her tears. Not that she could blame her, though. A girl her age being told how she was going to die? That kind of information is hard to take in for someone so young. Hell, Diane was far older than the girl and to learn that she was to die in childbirth was enough to make her want to cry too. But she remained strong in front of the younger witch.

"I, uh, well, I won't be attending any weddings soon, so maybe that won't happen," the girl said with hope.

Diane smiled sadly. "Maybe," she agreed. "Sometimes visions serve as a warning to witches to allow us to give the information we saw to the person we saw in them, that way the vision can never come true. And if it is myself you're worried about ─" she placed her hands on the girl's shoulders and lifted one hand to brush away the stray tear from her cheek. "You need not worry. I've been alive for over a century and have not yet expanded my bloodline. I don't imagine that will happen anytime soon, either. Not with my love life," she joked in an attempt to lighten the mood and make the girl feel a little better.

The teenager smiled.

"There's a smile," Diane said. "Now, wipe those eyes, dear, and go back inside to your friend. Live your life as though we never experienced these visions and never let what you saw or what I told haunt you." She offered the girl a small smile before turning on her heel to leave.

"One more thing," the girl called after her.

Diane glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"What is your name? You don't have to tell me, I just . . . I'd like to know, if that's okay with you?"

"Diane Boudreaux."

"Diane," she repeated. "It was . . . well, I suppose it was nice to meet you, Diane. My name is Grace, by the way. Grace Cartwright."

"It was nice meeting you as well, Miss Cartwright." Diane flashed her one more smile before heading toward her car. She plopping down inside and waved toward the young girl still standing in front of the Mystic Grill and wiping at her tears before she pulled away and drove down the road toward the nearest hotel or inn.

When Diane found a pleasant inn that had vacancy, she parked outside and shut off her car. But she didn't get out. She sat there for a moment, thinking about what just happened. Diane's entire purpose was to bear a child that would carry out her family name, but how on earth was she supposed to raise her son or daughter and teach them magic if she dies in childbirth? None of it made any sense. Surely, her ancestors would restore her life so she could teach her child the proper use of their power, right?

The Boudreaux witch shook her head. "Stop it, Diane," she whispered to herself. "You just told that girl not to dwell on the vision and now look at you." She stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror and wiped at her eyes. When she was sure all the tears were gone, she stepped out of the car and stuffed her keys in her purse. She tucked her hair behind her ears and went to make her way inside before a voice from behind startled her.

"It is you."

Diane Boudreaux froze in her place upon hearing the familiar voice. For so long she had longed to hear that voice. To see his face and feel his touch. She closed her eyes and opened them again to find her vision blurry with fresh tears. She turned around and her legs went so numb at the sight of him that Diane stumbled and would have fallen down the steps if she had not grabbed hold of the bannister. "Niklaus," she breathed out.

It was Niklaus Mikaelson, in the flesh, standing before her, but he looked so different from the last time she had seen him. He didn't look so carefree and in love anymore and instead looked as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like, since that night in 1920, all he had ever done was mourn for her. His sandy blonde hair was still short, and he wore modern day clothing of dark jeans, a gray shirt and a leather jacket paired with boots. And so many emotions swam in the pools of his blue eyes she loved so much.

"You're alive," Niklaus said. His expression was full of surprise, but his gaze was ever so soft against her own. Not that she could blame him, for he thought she was dead, which she had been. He had every right to mourn her. "How?"

"I can explain," Diane said. She moved down the steps until she was close enough to reach out and touch him, but she didn't. She kept her hands firm at her sides. "But perhaps not out here. Do you have somewhere where we can go to talk? I was about to get a room, we could talk in there?"

"No," he denied, glancing distastefully toward the inn. "I have a mansion close to here. We can talk there."

Mansion, she internally smiled. Some things never change. From what she can remember, the Mikaelson family always had the most extravagant homes.

"Alright," Diane agreed.

　
✧ ✦ ✧
　

The drive to the Mikaelson home took them ten minutes at the most. The entire ride had been silent, save for Niklaus giving her directions on where to go. When he told her to turn down a large driveway, she almost gasped aloud at the sight of his home as she broke through the trees and it came into view. Colored white with large pillars and a second-story balcony was almost as big as the actual front porch. The home was beautiful in every way possible. She could only imagine what it looked like on the inside.

The driveway was a large circle of perfectly leveled rocks, and in the center was a small display of flowers and plants and a water fountain that tied it all together. Diane pulled the car to a stop outside the home and glanced toward Niklaus. Before she could say anything, he was already out of the car and rushing to open her door for her. Diane slipped her hand into his and smiled at the familiar warmth of his skin against her own.

Niklaus opened the front door for her, allowing her to step inside first. She marveled at the architectural work done. The parlor was a wide open space with multiple connecting rooms and an enormous staircase. There were flower arrangements, and paintings decorated the rooms. She smiled.

"You have a beautiful home."

"It isn't much, though it'll do for now. Just until I leave this dreadful little town."

"I must agree that Mystic Falls is rather quaint and boring, but was it not once your home?"

"It was, but I never much cared for it then either," Niklaus smirked.

Diane shook her head at his words and followed him into the next room. She supposed it was the living room given the couch and few armchairs. There was an entire wall full of books and another painting and flower vase. As Niklaus moved toward his collection of liquor in the room's corner, she stepped toward the painting to get a better look at it. It was of an open lavender field and the initials "N.M." were signed in the bottom corner.

"I see you still paint," she observed. "This one is beautiful."

"That particular lavender field used to be one of my favourite places to venture off to. I was just a boy at the time I discovered it, but I remember the place fondly."

Diane turned and sat down on the couch. She took the glass of whiskey on the rocks he offered her and smiled. "You remembered."

"There was never a day you weren't drinking whiskey on the rocks, love. Aside from tea and water, it was the only other thing you would drink."

Diane took a sip. It was silent after that, neither party speaking until she cleared her throat. "I suppose you would like for me to explain to you just how I am alive now, won't you?"

"Very much. Because as I recall, you died that night, Diane. Mikael had compelled and equipped the entire Chicago police force with wooden bullets, and they killed you in the crossfire. I remember holding you . . . I remember seeing your body in the morgue . . . I remember it all. And yet, here you are."

She took another sip of her whiskey. "My family, as you know, were witches of New Orleans. But what I did not tell you was of our family secret. Our magic holds great strength, and because of that, we cannot allow our bloodline to die out and our magic to fade away. An heir must be born, and since I, at the time of knowing you, was the last of kin, that means I must have a child. And if I die as I had that night, my ancestors will restore my life and will continue doing so until I have a child."

Niklaus looked angry, though not as angry as she expected, which she supposed was a good thing. He took a sip of his bourbon before meeting her gaze. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never found the right time," she frowned.

"We had known each other for more than five years, Diane! That was plenty of time for you to tell me. But you choose to keep your little secret to yourself and let me think you were dead. Do you have idea how long I have mourned you."

Diane flinched at his tone. "I know," she said, closing her eyes. "And I know that nothing I can ever say will make you forgive me, but you must understand that I was younger than I am now, Nik. Love blinded me. I couldn't tell you because I was afraid to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Niklaus laughed and took another sip of his bourbon.

Diane jumped to her feet, almost spilling her glass of whiskey. "Yes, I hurt you by not telling you, and for that I am sorry, truly I am. But do you honestly think it has not hurt me all the years as well? I mean Christ, Nik, I woke up all alone in a dark morgue. The least you could have done was deliver my body to my family. My mother and father deserved that much." She closed her eyes as she remembered the events that followed waking up in the morgue. "I tried to find you. For so long I tried to find you, but you and your family were gone."

He clenched his jaw and stared up at her with cold, pained, blue eyes. "And that is supposed to justify everything, isn't it? Poor Diane Boudreaux had woken in morgue all alone. What a tragedy. In what way is that the same as mourning someone you had cared for? Someone you had told repeatedly that you had loved?"

Bitter tears sprung in her eyes as she glared at him. "What would have happened if I told you, Niklaus? Hmm? What would you have done if I told you I couldn't love you because it was necessary for me to produce an heir for my family? Would you have not cared and loved me anyway as I carried another mans child? Because I know you, Nik. One too many men had stared at me the wrong way to make me realize that you are the jealous type. So yes, I spared you that bit of information about myself so you wouldn't get hurt by the truth of how we could never have a life together."

"I would have still had you, that's what would have happened." The pain in his voice was clear, and it broke her heart.

"I know you would have," she replied. "But please, Nik, see it from someone else's point of view for once in your life and understand why I had to keep it from you. I did what I had to do because I had a duty to my family and to my coven. And I still do. Who knows how long I will be alive until I have a child. So as much as we want it, we can never have a life together, Nik. It just won't work."

Silence followed her words, and as much as she wanted to stay in his presence for the rest of her life, Diane knew that she had more pressing matters than to follow what her heart has always wanted. She wiped the tears from her face and grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch. His eyes followed her every move.

"Well," Diane sniffled. "This has been a lovely reunion and all, but it's late and I'm afraid I must go."

She reached the parlor, mere feet away from the front door, before she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist. Diane could feel his warm breath against her neck and it made her shiver. She turned to look at him. "Niklaus, I can't ─"

He cut her off with a kiss.

Despite still needing to find her missing goddaughter, Diane Boudreaux melted into his touch. She savored every moment of the kiss; the way his lips felt against her own and how they tasted like bourbon, the way his hands curved around her waist, the way he pulled her so close they were practically one. And before she knew it, the man she had loved and lost was whisking her away to show her just how much he had missed her and how much he still cared for her.

.･:✦ ────────────── ✦:･.
　
a/n: So there you go, chapter
two! A lot went down. Diane
got to meet another OC of
mine, Grace Cartwright, from
my fics "Practical Magic" and
"Story of Us" in a very strange
yet imporant way. Old flames
were reunited. But hmm,
where ever could Andrea be?
Any guesses? I hope you liked
the chapter! There will be more
to come very, VERY soon!