As the Save Elena Squad brought all kinds of problems to Mystic Falls, I kept my eyes on my problems. While they brought back Mikael—who once killed me in Manhattan, New York— and still planned on how to kill Klaus, I wrote down the information I had found out about Gwenhwyvar. She was a friend of the Original vampires, a good one at that. Rebekah had told me that even though Klaus liked a woman named Tatia—who was Elijah's first love—he loved Gwenhwyvar. She showed me a drawing of her, and it was almost the same as the first one I saw in 1887. It was just her head, her eyes looking right at me, but the details were amazing. You could see the little specks in her eyes, the little cracks on her lips, the strands of hair that had escaped her braids. The detail was to point, and Rebekah commented how Klaus drew her from his memory because art was a talent he had acquired after he turned. 

   Since that night, I had not seen Rebekah. Who I had seen was Klaus, when I pleaded with him to save Caroline from Tyler's bite. From kinky, it suddenly turned deadly. Matt was the one that called, and then I went to plead to Klaus to save her. I told him that I would do anything, give him anything, and he only wished for my company. So, after he saved her, I gave him my company. 

   "Rebekah gave me my memories," I told him, leaning my head back on the seat. He had been driving around, only stopping to get gas. I guessed that he wanted to speak to me without being interrupted by a revenge-crazed Stefan, who had taken the coffins and hid them. "She gave them to me and told about Gwenhwyvar."

   "Ah," he chuckled, "of course she would do that. My sister, filled with compassion. So, do you remember everything?"

   "Every little memory you took away from me," I said, turning my head to him. "Especially... I remember Greece, Klaus."

   His smile fell, and was replaced by straight lips. "Greece, huh?" He licked the inside of his lip and nodded, as if he didn't want to believe what I was telling him.

   "Aigio, Greece, 1995," I told him. "There was an earthquake; there was smoke and fire everywhere, and through it all you found me. You laid your hand on my shoulder, spun me around, and I was surprised to see you there. You said Elijah invited you for a vacation, and you were irritated because you picked a great time to arrive."

   Klaus chuckled and nodded. "You told me to have some respect for the dead."

   "Which you didn't," I recalled, pointing at him. 

   "Which I didn't," he laughed. "You couldn't blame me, love. There has always been dead around me, a little more didn't bother me." His laugh died down, and he stared straight ahead. "You said that we needed to find Elijah, and I told you no."

   "You told me Rebekah was daggered," I continued for him, "and that you wanted to dagger Elijah as well. Then, you told me that you were only supposed to care for your family, but you somehow found yourself caring for me. You blamed me for making you care."

   "Well, it was your fault."

   "And then you compelled me to forget all about you and the rest of your family, except Elijah," I finished, staring at the side of his face. Not once had he turned to look at me as he continued to drive, and it made me feel strange. "You said that I wouldn't remember who you were, what we were, and you would start to hate me. Did you hate me, Klaus?"

   As I waited for his answer, I got anxious. I got my memories back, which meant that I remembered each bit of happiness that I spent. Klaus was included in those moments of happiness, and they felt great. Thinking that he hated me, that he still hated me, was strange. It hurt. It hurt a lot. 

   Klaus finally turned to look at me, his lips nowhere near a smile. I couldn't read how he felt. And, then, he said, "I still hate you for making me care, Clara."

   I let out an emotionless laugh and looked down at my hands, slightly shaking my hand. "Of course you do," I muttered. "You're as stubborn as a mule."

   "I am not stubborn!" he laughed. 

   "Oh, I can give you many examples!" I broke in, staring at him. "Many, Klaus. Many."

   He turned his head to me quickly, then looked away and licked his lips. "I get it, Clara. You don't need to give examples."

   "Are you su-"

   "I am very sure, Clara!" he cut in, giving me a stern look. 

   "Yeah, sorry," I raised my hands, smiling. There were so many times that we had spent fighting over nothing, but it had always ended up with smiles and laughs over drunken kisses. I stopped smiling when I remembered the kisses. We had kissed, countless times, but I never... I never felt love. Of course, there was attraction, but love...

   "Will you tell me about the other me's?" I asked him, changing the conversation and my mind.

   "The other you's?" Klaus asked, raising a brow. "The doppelgängers?"

   "Who else would I be talking about?" I arched a brow. "Of course the doppelgängers!"

   Klaus took a deep breath and stopped the car on the side of the rode. He turned it off and leaned his head back on his seat, staring straight ahead. "I rather not speak about Gwenhwyvar," he said. "I will tell you about the others, though."

   He did tell me. Although he spoke on a haste, probably because he didn't want to remember the girls that looked exactly like his dead love, he told me about each of them. Ileana Drăculea was a Romanian princess, and the mother of the man that became the inspiration for Bram Stoker's Dracula. She died during her third childbirth at the age of twenty-seven.

   Anastasia Romanovna was also royalty. Her father gave his name to the Romanov Dynasty of Russian Monarchs, she was the first wife to Tsar Ivan the Terrible and the first Russian tsaritsa, and gave birth to six children. According to Klaus, she was the kindest person he had ever met. Innocent, too in love with an original vampire that cared too much for himself and too afraid to leave the man that she was married off to when she turned sixteen. He didn't know whether she died of poisoning or natural causes, but he knew she had died when she was either twenty-nine or thirty.

   Marine Antoinette was a French aristocrat who was too fiery for her own good, according to Klaus. He said that she reminded him a lot of Rebekah, passionate yet would take shit from no one. According to him, she was sensual and loved to flirt, she enjoyed playing poker and poking fun of him. She would have been a mistress to a lord or a duke if it weren't for her falling for Klaus. At the age of twenty-four, she was behead for treason.

   "And then there's Clara Forbes," Klaus continued, staring at me. "Last of the Drăculea dopplegängers, who was killed by Katerina Petrova when she was nineteen because the woman was jealous of her relationship with the Salvatore brothers."

   I let out an emotionless chuckle. "We have in common our looks and that we were all brutally killed. Lovely."

   "Well, Ileana did die of childbirth."

   "And that is brutal!" I told him, shaking my head. "Do you know how painful it must have been for her? Ugh, the pain..." I shuddered and shook my head, making my face at the thought of childbirth. Of course, I had wanted children when I was human, and there were times where I found myself thinking of what if's. What if Damon and I got married? What if we had children? What if we were happy? What if, what if, what if.

   I turned my head and looked at Klaus, deciding to change the conversation. "Why did you call us the Drăculea dopplegängers?" I asked. "It sounds like we're some weird band dedicated to Dracula."

   He laughed. "I just told you that you're basically related to Vlad the Impaler, Russian royalty, and French aristocracy and you're wondering why I refer to your shadow selves as the Drăculea dopplegängers? Clara, you can't be serious."

   "I'm not that curious to whom am I related to," I told him. "I'm more curious of why am I a dopplegänger."

   "I always thought it was nature cursing me for killing Gwenhwyvar that night," he softly muttered, starting the car and beginning to drive. "My mother cursing me again because once wasn't enough."

   "Maybe..." I uttered, taking a deep breath. "It sounds so much better knowing that I was born because of you. Thanks, Klaus."

   He rolled his eyes, but he still smiled. It was as if he was enjoying my company, and to be honest I was enjoying his. I looked up and noticed that the sky was no longer dark. The first orange hued rays of sunshine kissed the road before us. If filled the sky with mighty colours of red and splashed the clouds with endless rays of pink. It was bright and mesmerizing as it invited me to stare, deep into the horizon. 

   It was the calmness of early morning, when the only thing outside were birds and those who woke up to take a run or work. As Klaus drove, I leaned back and watched my the trees speed by, the birds fly over, and the little sprites of dust fly inside the car. Everything felt so calm, as if time had been paused and the only thing I had to worry about was whether Klaus would wreck the car. 

   "I should go back to the boarding house," I said out loud. "They might be worried about me."

   "They?" Klaus asked. "Oh, you mean Damon."

   "I mean they," I said, rolling my eyes. "As in Elena, Stefan, Caroline, and Damon."

   "I don't know what you see on the oldest Salvatore," he mused, glancing at me with a soft smirk. "From what I've seen, he's been getting a bit to close to Elena."

   "Not you too," I sighed, pressing my fingers to my forehead in annoyance. 

   "If I'm not the only one to notice, Clara, then it must be true," he said.

   How could he and Stefan notice things like that? I didn't want to believe it, but deep down I knew it was true. I knew that Damon was falling for Elena, and I knew that she felt something for him too, but I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to close my eyes, have it all be a dream, and awake in 1864, back when my life wasn't as problematic as it was now. Back when I didn't know about the supernatural, back when I was happy, back when I didn't have to worry about so many things.

   "Are you now giving me advice in my love life?" I asked, almost in disbelief. "This talk must have been a bit too much for you. Too many emotions in one day. Klaus, I think you might be drained. You should sleep it off."

   He, once again, rolled his eyes and stopped the car. I looked out the window and saw that we were at the boarding house. I got out the car and stopped at the front door when I felt a presence behind me. Klaus was standing there, his hands in his jacket as he looked at me and then at the door. 

   "Aren't you going to open the door and invite me in?" he asked, a small smirk in his lips.

   "Why would I do that?" I asked, crossing my arms. 

   "You don't have to," he said, brushing past me and opening the door. "I can do it myself."

   "Wow," I muttered, walking in after him. "I am so gonna get killed by Stefan and Damon."

   Klaus walked around the living room, served himself alcohol and turned on music. The Black Keys began to echo around the house. I inwardly groaned and ran a hand through my face just as Klaus took a seat and leaned back. He looked so comfortable, so amused at the situation. I crossed my arms and took a seat in the sofa in front of him, tapping my foot against the ground as Klaus continued to smirk and drink.

   Not even five minutes later, Stefan walked in. I heard him sigh as he spotted Klaus lounging in the sofa. He walked closer, turned down the music, and let out an emotionless chuckle. "What are you doing here, Klaus?" he asked. 

   "Enjoying our stalemate," Klaus answered.

   Stefan bit back his tongue and continued to stare down at the hybrid, annoyed. "What do you want?"

   "The question is: what do you want?" Klaus responded, the amusement leaving his face. "My hybrids left town as you demanded, so please tell me what I need to do to get my family back."

   "Well, see..." Stefan took a seat on a chair and crossed his legs. "Klaus, I'm not negotiating."

   "And you understand that holding them indefinitely is the same thing as dropping them in the ocean?"

   "No, no," Stefan countered. "You leave Mystic Falls and then give me a call in a few years, and we'll talk."

   Klaus took a drink and lightly smirked. "I can give you another chance," he said. "Just one more. Let's make a reasonable deal."

   "Or what?" Stefan pushed, leaning slightly over the arm of his chair. "You make one move and I will drop..."

   Klaus began to laugh. "Yes, right. Crazy Stefan. Hmm, how is that working out for you? Any friends left?"

   Stefan's smirk faltered as he leaned back and continued the stare down with the hybrid. "Plenty, actually."

   "I bet," Klaus chuckled. He threw his head back as he finished his drink, still looking amused and irritated. "Oh, Clara, you should come by some time. See the new house. Maybe it would remind you of New Orleans."

   "I'd rather not," I said, giving him a tight smile. "You should leave, Klaus."

   "Are you sure?" He stood and walked over to me, smirking. "We were having such a good time."

   "Yeah, telling me that I only exist because of you was so much fun," I sarcastically told him. "The door is that way." I pointed to the door with my chin. Klaus kept his eyes on me, the same smirk on his lips as he slowly walked to the door. When he left, I let out a deep breath that I had been holding in for some time.

    "So, that's where you were last night," Stefan broke the silence, making me look back at him. "With him." He didn't sound curious, he sounded angry.

   "He saved Caroline in exchange of me spending time with him," I answered with a sigh, running a hand through my hair.

   "You were willing to spend time with him," he pointed out. "On your own accord."

   "I saved Caroline's life," I snapped, turning to him. "What the hell were you doing, Stefan? Oh, that's right, you were too busy obsessing over the damn coffins and how to get rid of Klaus!"

   He let out a sarcastic laugh and stood. "I was hiding them," he returned, taking a stand in front of me. "I was hiding them from a crazy hybrid that took away our freedom during the summer, a hybrid that took away half of your memories. I was actually doing something while you were off worrying about something that's not important!"

   "Not important," I repeated, scoffing. "Obviously it's not important to you because it has nothing to do with Elena, right?"

   Stefan looked taken aback of my words, surprised. I was also surprised at myself for snapping so harshly. Out of nowhere, I dragged Elena in our fight because... I dragged Elena into the conversation because in the back of my mind I recalled the things Stefan told me in the car the night Rebekah told me who Gwenhwyvar was, and what Klaus told me earlier. In the back of my mind, I had always been thinking about that and I suddenly let it out when Stefan pushed my buttons.

   I understood that my life was not important to him as much as Elena's was, but did that give him the right to call my problems unimportant? Were my problems unimportant? I began to think that they weren't. Me being a doppelgänger was not important because I was no use because my existence was only to cause Klaus more pain from his past. I was a mere shadow of a woman who had exited more than a thousand years ago; I had the same face, the same hair, the same figure, the same everything. But, just like Marine had said the night I saw her, I had my own mind. And, at the moment, my mind was telling me that I was not important, just like Stefan said.

   "Sorry," I apologised, taking a step back. "You're right, Stefan. My problems aren't... My problems aren't as important as Elena's life."

   "No, Clara..." Stefan shook his head. "I'm-I'm not doing this because of Elena. I'm doing this because I'm sick of our lives being threatened by Klaus, one of them being Elena. Her blood allows his hybrids to live, and he has this crazy thing for you because you look like his dead girlfriend. I'm doing this for you and Elena."

   "Careful, Stefan," I muttered, giving him a small forced smile. "Your humanity is showing."

   He gave me a small smile, almost invisible. "I've had my humanity on for quite some time, Clara."

   "Show it more," I told him, squeezing his shoulder.

   "Yeah," he took and intake of breath and shook his head. "Not at the moment. I rather act that I don't care for a while. Let's keep that I care between you and I, okay?"

   "You know you're only pushing the people that care about you away, right?" I took a seat on sofa and looked at him, watching how he moved around the chair Klaus sat and served two glasses of alcohol. "It's only making it worse."

   He handed me a glass of alcohol and took a seat besides me, letting out a deep breath. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to think of it as good at the moment," he muttered. "Save everyone now, amend friendship later."

   "I don't support this," I breathed, "but, whatever."

   "Just between you and I?" He pushed the glass filled with alcohol out, waiting for me to clink mine against his. I watched his glass for a few seconds, chuckled, and then clinked mine against his.

   "Yeah," I told him. "Just between you and I, unless something happens, okay?"

   "I'm fine with that," he chuckled. He raised his glass in my direction then took a large gulp.

   I took a careful drink, admiring the taste on my tongue. Two glasses later, I was already drunk due to being sleep deprived for seventy-two hours. I laughed at everything and nothing, made fun of Stefan trying to help me up the stairs, and began to ramble on about my thoughts that I preferred to keep silent. It was as if the alcohol made a pact with my mind and decided to spill every single thing that had been floating in the back of my mind.

   "So," I began to tell Stefan, running my finger drunkenly down his chest. "I decided... I decided that I'm gonna let go of Damon. Forget about him!" I laughed and looked up at the green-eyed vampire that watched me walk around the room I had claimed as my own. "He-he no longer loves me, so why should I love him? I'm just... I'm just gonna move on! Let him go! Let him fall for Elena Gilbert as much as he wants."

   "You don't know what you're saying, Clara," Stefan said, crossing his arms. "You're drunk."

   "I'm exhausted," I corrected him, stopping by the bookshelf and leaning my head against it. I kept my eyes on him, watching him as if he were some kind of painting.

   A long time ago, it felt as if he just been occupying space around me, like a simple piece of furniture. But, this time, when I looked at him, I took all of him in. His sandy hair, his angular jawline, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when I looked at him, I actually saw him. And that feeling, then, was exhilarating. It was like finally taking a gulp of fresh air after being underwater for so long.