Title: Under a Different Moon (11/?)
Spoilers: 2x11, 2x12
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Sorry, this is a day late. Well, actually, it's more like two months late, and I'm really, really sorry. But school and finals and vacation got the better of me and I could barely find time to write anything. At last, here is chapter 11. Enjoy(:
A/N 2: Me again. I changed the summary slightly, just letting you know. Carry on.
Everything was going downhill.
Every day, there was a new argument on how to get the moonstone from the tomb and the making of the cure was pushed back yet again. Every day, someone was on Trevor duty with Rose, and it became a constant struggle to keep him inside the house when he was delirious or on a murderous rampage. Every day, Rose drew more into herself, Damon drank a little more, and Stefan went to bed earlier and earlier. The rising problems with werewolves—the never ending threats, the kidnapping of Caroline, and Trevor's bite—and the looming Sacrifice was setting everyone on edge.
It was a Tuesday when Rose decided to take matters into her own hands.
The house was almost empty, and it was late. Stefan was at Elena's and Damon was upstairs with Caroline, keeping watch over Trevor to spare Rose another sleepless night. Rose, however, couldn't sleep anyways. She tossed and turned and, somehow, somewhere in her endlessly spinning head, she came up with a plan to get the moonstone. It was rash and shoddy at best, but it was her last hope.
In seconds, she was tiptoeing downstairs, going over her poorly constructed plan in her head. She glided down to the basement and grabbed all the blood bags she could carry; back upstairs, she found a bag to carry them in. Then, grabbing her car keys, she slid quickly and quietly out the door and into the night.
A strange sense of calm stole over her as she sped away from the boarding house with only to rumble of the engine to keep her company. She would get that moonstone if it killed her… she would make the cure and save Trevor if it was the last thing she would ever do.
The tomb, and therefore Katherine, was easy enough to find; she was becoming used to the layout of Mystic Falls by now. How strange, I've never really gotten to know a place before, she thought as she pulled off to the side of the road. It was a beautiful, clear night, but the only thing Rose could think about was the heavy weight of the blood bags in her hand and the stone that would hopefully replace it. She descended the slippery steps with newfound confidence.
"Katerina?" came her quiet call into the depths of the tomb, but the only sound was that of the blood bags thudding to the ground as she set them down. She waited a few seconds more.
Then, at last, came the reply: "I know that voice." And Katherine stumbled into the light of the waning moon, certainly looking worse for the wear; even when she spoke, her voice lacked its usual bite. "What are you doing here, Rose?"
She didn't answer directly. Instead, she reached down, opened a blood bag, and took one long, tantalizing sip. Katherine's eyes grew wide and she stumbled forward a bit more, looking ravenous.
"I need your help," Rose said eventually.
Katherine smirked, but her eyes hungrily followed the blood bag as it was set on the ground. "What could the great Rosemarie possibly want from me?"
"Right," she drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I'm not stupid. I'm not giving away my only bargaining chip."
"No, you're not stupid," Rose agreed, "and I don't doubt that you'll get out of this tomb eventually—"
"How flattering, Rosemarie."
Here, however, Rose took a menacing step forward, and all sweetness vanished from her voice. "But the second you do get out, I swear the first thing I will do is give you a slow, painful death. I'm not playing around, Katerina. I need that moonstone."
Katherine just smirked again. "Tsk, tsk, Rose. Two wrongs don't make a right."
"Unfortunately for you," Rose started, voice low, "you've wronged Trevor and I too many times. We just spent the past five hundred years running from Klaus because of you. And now Trevor is dying and I need that moonstone, so give it to me before I come in there and get it myself."
"Come in all you like," Katherine countered. "But you won't get out and you won't get the moonstone."
"Trevor is dying, Katherine, and the moonstone is the only thing that will save him. Have you no heart at all?"
"Nope," she replied, and then she turned around and sauntered away.
"Damnit, Katerina!" Rose cried out in frustration, kicking at the bag of blood bags angrily. They scattered across the floor and some even went skidding past the entrance to the tomb, but Katherine did not come back out and after a while, Rose gave up hoping.
She didn't bother being quiet when she got back to the boarding house. Damon, of course, had rushed downstairs to see who was coming in at nearly two in the morning, but, catching sight of her defeated expression, all he asked was, "What the hell happened?"
Rose pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose as if it would hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Then, in a small, broken voice, she said, "I tried."
Damon tried to catch her arm as she pushed past him, but she didn't let him. In a blur, she ran up the stairs and into the solitude of her room, shutting the door and sinking against it to the floor. At last, she let the tears go, and they fell down her face in a steady, silent stream for what seemed to be an endless amount of time.
Soon, however, she noticed that the normally quiet house was filled with the sounds of restless activity: doors slamming, raised voices. Then, Damon was hammering on her door, yelling urgently, "Rosebud, open up."
She wiped the tears from her face, stood, and did as he asked.
"Trevor's escaped again," he said without prompt, as an anxious Caroline appeared over his shoulder. Rose felt her heart sink to the depths of her stomach, but she agreed to go with them.
When they weren't looking, she passed a weary hand over her eyes and let it linger, as if her fingers could block out the world.
It would be another long night.