MAY 2018

Kol found himself in a city he hadn't visited since the 1400's, his belongings scattered through a room at the top of an elaborate cathedral tower. Beneath him, the rusting jails cells and rooms of praise had been converted into coven storage spaces and bedrooms. He had to respect the Austrian coven for taking over the place – not many covens could say they now operated entirely from a building that once prosecuted them, able to harness the power of all the lost souls he'd technically damned.

He'd unintentionally damned.

Kol didn't think it was entirely his fault that the inquisitor's decided to track everyone he slept with, and, in the end, the worst one had fallen for his charms too. And the coven clearly didn't blame him either – oh, no, quite the opposite. They had a century's worth of information on him thanks to the church's archives, and they had welcomed him with open arms. Trialling magic for Kol Mikaelson was an honour!

While they'd initially been incredibly overbearing about observing his process, once the first few feeders had been dropped out the tower window, they'd taken the hint to give him space.

He sat in the centre of that top floor room, the tower not quite curved, more, an amber brick hexagon, three of the walls replaced with bookshelves; grimoires, research papers, and coven history. Two others had large windows, starlight spilling in, the third decorated with a portrait. His face. The ornate gold frame was almost flattering, the attention to detail something someone could only craft through the eye of love...or obsession. Back then, Kol had thought those words were the same thing, and his only object of it was witchcraft.

He'd dragged out a collection of books he deemed most relevant, marked up the pages he'd used, then shoved them all to the edges, half-scribbled papers encircling him, repeating the key phrases he'd pulled out.

When MJ had returned to Mystic Falls after breaking up with him, he'd been alone with Qetsiyah's Grimoire, and he'd taken it with him when he'd left. He'd made pages of translations, carefully reviewing them, next to his mother's Grimoire, flagging any section with Ayana's initials on it. He also had a few pages of the Prison World Bennett Grimoire, then, The Verite Nwa. At the start, he'd been cautious when opening it, fighting against the bindings and trembling, and oddly quiet noises. Part of him still wasn't entirely sure the noises were real, but then it had caused an incredibly realistic MJ hallucination, so, Kol was responding to anything it offered. After four years, that spell book had become his constant.

It was nestled into his left side, a gentle warmth against his skin, Kol unable to stop himself smiling at it. It was a book. He knew it was just a book.

But MJ's soul was in it.

A piece of her – and Kol couldn't help but think that was why it had taken a liking to him. Or, why it was trying to be helpful, even if the majority of spells weren't relevant to his quest.

"How to breach an ancestral plane," He murmured, "We know how to make one, how to destroy one, and how to transfer one, but not how to breach without destruction."

Candles encircled all the papers, dotted randomly, like tangled fairy lights, across every table, pushed towards the walls as two humans perched on stools, one slitting their wrists every half hour, filling up goblets, the other on his right side, arm hanging out, so Kol could simply bite up without having to move from the floor. There was a third body slumped in the corner, heartbeat just about floating in his ear, fate yet to be decided.

"Breach, Kol," He crumpled up a page, chucking it towards the window, "Breaching is just like travelling, only, we are having to make a new hole."

He knew Bonnie had the Essí grimoire, leaving him to write out everything he could remember from it, without any way to check.

He was not making that phone call.

If Kol Mikaelson spoke to anyone, and they somehow revealed that, yet another person had found a way to MJ while he was still locked out? Tyler and Hayley. Tyler, and Hayley. The love of his life had appeared for two other people, and sure, Tyler Lockwood made sense, but sparking into reality for Hayley! While he was out there –

"Careful," His own voice whispered in his ear, "That sounds like anger."

"Her spirit has been reformed," Kol forced his eyes shut, "At least, partially."

"If you feel anger..."

"Enough to make contact," He accidentally knelt on a pen, ink pouring out of the broken plastic "Maybe it's the location?"

"...You'll start to feel grief."

While his hands were covered in blood, ink, and wax, there was also a map of Virginia on the floor.

"And if you feel grief?"

"Tyler was in Mystic Falls."

"You might finally admit that she's gone."

"I could only appear in Mystic Falls until my mother found me, but she'd trapped me there, so unless my mother is somehow involved."

Kol paused.

"Her mother," He frowned, "Ana would never leave her in Mystic Falls, she'd want her with her father – then again...if Stefan is in Mystic Falls – there is no universe Ana still prefers Stefan!"

"At this point, I wouldn't rule that – "

The double was draped across the floor, cut off as the human blood bad started its routine, slicing metal through flesh, ghostly eyes enamoured.

"You're pathetically fickle," Kol felt The Nwa brush further into his side, "And too easily distracted."

"Life is more fun when you're easily distracted."

"You only believe that," Kol rubbed his knuckles over the cover, "So you don't have to acknowledge why no one wants to spend extended time with you."

He sat up, "Just like how Mira's spirit clearly doesn't want to see you."

Trickle.

Trickle.

Trickle.

This version of Kol was dressed in the same outfit he'd met MJ in, dark grey shirt and a deep blue waistcoat, almost black in certain light, a slight cut in the top that showed where the dagger had been plunged.

The book cover flapped open for a second.

"Why do you need her?"

"Because I love her."

"If that were true," He pointed, "You would've been able to say it to her face."

The goblet sloshed, a slight sound twitching among the pages as it was lifted towards him, the second standing up to collect it so Kol could stay in the centre of his mess. Pages upon pages of ideas – some already tested – some waiting for improvements – everything surrounding him in the golden candlelight.

"How many nights did you lie there," His shadow sounded bored, "Whispering into her ear, in the hopes she'd just wake up, mid-confession, and say it back."

Kol snatched the glass, sloshing red spilling onto the floor as he chugged in back.

"Truth does not need that much rehearsal."

He just kept drinking.

"She said it to Klaus before she said it to you," He taunted, "What woman accepts a man who can't even say 'I love you?'"

The goblet was crushed between his fingers, pieces of bronze shooting across the floor.

"The type of woman who is merely waiting for something better to come along."

"Do you not have anything better to say?" Kol sniped back, "If you're trying to make me hate her – "

"I don't need you to hate her, I need you to realise you shouldn't care about her."

Kol gritted his teeth.

"Once you accept that, you can turn it back on," His little agenda, "And we can get back to having the real fun, instead of this...distraught – "

"I'm not distraught," Kol argued, "I'm frustrated."

He dropped the remaining pieces.

"You frustrate me."

"I am you."

"And there is a reason I stopped being you!" Kol swung his arms out, the two human blood bags flinching at the yell.

"If you'd truly stopped," The hallucination stood up to face him, "I wouldn't be here."

Kol swallowed, too aware of the sweat on his forehead.

"Keep sparing wolves like that changes who we are, but we both know you merely buy time," He leaned in closer, "Until I consume you entirely."

The threat hung in the air.

It might've done something to him if Kol's eyes didn't drift up to that painting of himself. He somewhat adored it. It was hard not to be obsessed with how deeply he'd driven an inquisitor mad – to the point of a portrait, but even if he was proud of that, it wasn't motivation to go back. It was a symbol of how, once upon a time, his only way to be seen was to be hated.

He'd longed to be powerful, then he'd met the most powerful woman on the planet.

She'd been miserable.

He'd made her laugh.

Kol just wanted to hear MJ's laugh.

"God," He sighed back, "You're not even who I truly was."

As he blinked, the room felt empty.

"You're the caricature everyone claimed me to be, like some reanimated wanted poster, without any of the actual charm," He was exhausted by it, "Nor my real motivations."

Kol didn't quite understand why his brain was taunting him with such a useless impersonator.

Yes, it got under his skin, but that wasn't him!

MJ had dove into his mind, seen him coated in blood, then she'd kissed him! So, whatever the little voice tried to say was inherently stupid. And Kol needed to focus.

"I need to find – "

"Hello."

His head snapped round at the gentle voice.

No door had opened, most of the coven tucked into their own beds, no way for any sane person to climb in through the windows, yet a ginger girl was staring at him. She stood in the centre of the room, feint shadows across her cheeks as the candles lightly flickered, the air suddenly thick, tugging at her sleeves and slowly taking in the mess of spell pages decorating the floor.

Kol instinctively brushed a hand through his hair, scanning the dainty features. 

"...Hi..."

He didn't care that ink now stained his temples, or that his shirt was covered in blood, nor the hole filled arm beside him – he cared that something in his mind was itching, The Nwa slipping from his side. It paused at an angle, flat on the floor, like it could look back at him. Like it hadn't made a step towards the child, her features just, so...

"Are you Kol Mikaelson?"

He knelt up, meeting her blue eyes, "Who would like to know?"

"My name's Hope," She linked her fingers together, trying to smile, "And I think you're my uncle."

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL
That's Not How Our Story Ends

MJ was surrounded by woodland and water, the trees pushed back to create a perfect view of the starless sky, her mind couldn't help but pause. Starless? Was it really starless? It had felt like her entire undead world was being ripped apart by Cade, only for the Bennett magic to reenforce everything, imbuing her with something new, sealing all those gaps up...sealing MJ in? Except...every now and again, there was a flicker.

A glistening light in the dark abyss above, beaming down to her with the fire of a dying star.

There was something inherently incredibly about stars, and the solar system, and, well, everything in the world. The unexplored sea: the creaking forests – everything she was now stuck dreaming about...if ghosts could dream?

The twinkling light meant that she had a visitor.

"You need to relax," Samedi's voice murmured, his hand on the back of her neck.

It could've been viewed as quite a violent position, but MJ didn't let herself panic, tilting her head up, pressing her hairline into his fingers, and feeling how each digit slid down her spine, through the glistening silver of her bridesmaid dress.

"Better," His deep baritone was like the bass guitar in a song, "Now..."

Steady; vital to the piece; yet often forgotten in the mess of everything else.

"...Expand – "

MJ snapped her fingers before she started to feel too demeaned by the routine, a ripple following the noise, her eyes flashing golden as the river seemed to still.

It was held by her breath.

Gently, her lungs expanded out, that sound becoming a sharp click.

"Nothing," Samedi released her, hands dropping back to his side, a bored look in his eye, "My wife – "

"Was in The Nwa," MJ turned to face him, "There might be a trace of her in me, but we're gonna have to find the book to draw it out."

"She should answer me."

"And maybe that tone," She crossed her arms, "Is precisely why she doesn't."

His lips twitched up.

"We knew this was a long shot," MJ reminded him, letting herself flop to the soft grass beneath her bare feet, "I might be able to summon her if I was alive, but as I am?"

"I should be able to make you," He countered, shirt sleeves rolled up, hat tossed to the side, "You are a member of the dead, I am – "

"Not my god," MJ had been running through all the reasonings in her head, "I wasn't Cade's, I wasn't Hades's – I'm just..."

His eyes narrowed as he watched her.

MJ was oddly calm. The adrenaline of seeing everyone, and fighting Kai, and losing Katherine, had slowly worn off, leaving her with the reality of her situation. She had a level of magic again. Everything around them was controlled by her, in some new void meant to replace The Other Side, or the ancestral realm, or both! And she was its first spirit.

"My 'patron' isn't even born yet."

"But," He gleamed, "They will be."

"Yeah, yeah," MJ wafted a hand at him, "Only if you actually manage to help me."

"Locate The Nwa," He straightened up, pointing to the sky as another distant light seemed to appear, "Fine."

The rushing river had helped carve out her little grove, the large tree in the centre growing apples. Was that the universe taunting her? MJ was half-tempted to try eating one, but if there were spirits in her walls, she didn't entirely trust the fruit to not have ancestral magic in it either.

"I will navigate the living and bring it to you."

"Thank you," MJ wished she trusted him, "Until then..."

"You will continue to practise," He saw the glint in her eye, "Trying to use you as a conduit might be failing because, as you like to remind me, you are not one of mine."

Today's outfit was slightly different to the form he'd taken when they'd first met, and MJ couldn't help but think it was his way of taunting her. She was sitting in that bridesmaid dress, and sure, it was nice, but when it was the only thing she could see in her watery reflection, it was reminding her why she'd once been so disinterested by silver. Then again, at least it wasn't the bloody outfit she'd literally died in so...

She missed the waistcoat.

She missed its soft blue fabric, how oddly bright it sometimes felt, and how out of place it was among her flared jeans and tabby top, yet still managing to fit so perfectly.

"But you can become closer."

MJ let her eyes shut, "I've been doing your exercises."

"It's not just about doing them," His shirt was purple, "You are a cumulation of many things."

"Floare magic is malleable," She let her head nod.

"But our power?" He tutted, "It is an entirely different practise."

Obviously, MJ knew that. She'd started her lessons with Tia, she'd read through Ryos's work – she'd felt how the power was fundamentally contradictory to her own. The absence of her concept of nature sitting at the heart of her brothers' potions, and venoms, and everything in between. Sure, it was partly The Traveller spells he'd used to make sure siphoning wasn't the only cure, but it was also inspired by voodoo rituals.

"Your power comes from belief in the self," He let his body lower, kneeling before her slumped shoulders, "From belief in the bloodline."

Floare and ancestral magic may have their slight differences, but that was still true.

"If your people once believed in gods, they abandoned them."

"Your practises are about belief in you," MJ breathed in slowly, "Faith in the 'gods' compared to faith in spirits your biologically bound to."

"There are many types of spirits."

"Floare view them as souls," She let her voice lighten, "You're all considered spirits, but that's not because you're dead, for you, it's because you're not human."

He placed his hands on her shoulders as she let her legs cross.

"Most witches use the word to describe their dead, but Floare view the spirit as your soul – you can alter someone's spirit, heal someone's spirit, or draw on it, even when they're alive, because it's not about death, it's about the soul."

"We have spirits too," He reminded her, "We have ghosts, and we have my kind, and we have our supreme creator. But you mortals will often lump us into one."

MJ held his look, terrified that she was so willing to do so.

His eyes were filled with black nothingness, as she begged to see shades of brown, but how could she? Black may have been a shade, not a colour, but that was something for the natural world – a human debate – while he was an embodiment of death. His being smelt of tobacco and rum, his shoulders draped in a burial blanket, cotton seemingly stuck in his nose.

The first few times she'd made the mistake of staring, she'd started to feel dizzy, but now, that was almost part of the fun. Like her body could still be affected by something meant to be off-putting for the living.

And, well, he was holding her.

It may have been from a distance, but his hands were pressed into her shoulders, and he was looking directly into her eyes; he was trying to help. Sure, so she'd owe him in the future, but...MJ had left Kol Mikaelson a weeping voicemail and he'd still not shown his face, meaning this was possibly all she had left. A deity of death, holding her gently.

"Has your wife really just been trapped?" MJ murmured, "All this time?"

"That depends on who you ask," He teased, "Others would claim to have seen her every day."

"But her path to New Orleans was blocked?"

"It was a slow loss," His eyes turned distant, "You cannot simply erase a being that exist beyond your world."

"But you can try to capture it," MJ reasoned, "And in doing so..."

"With the loss of the Queens, if there is no one to summon us, how are we meant to survive?"

"Hades seemed to."

"And so has my wife," He reminded her, "Among those pages."

"Even in hate, we find power," MJ almost laughed, "Those who hate us waste more breath than those who love."

"The witch who caught a piece of her was incredibly powerful, and she believed doing so would allow her to convert our practitioners to her cause," He continued, "She did not realise my wife would still be incredibly active across oceans, and in other cities, driving her mind mad with her inability to be whole."

"And The Nwa was in a realm you couldn't access, so you couldn't free her."

"Our son came the closest."

MJ straightened up.

"Even if you had died as one of mine," Samedi's glee at her reaction was obvious, "Your grave would not have necessarily been mine to claim."

"Your son?"

"The patron to all of those who die by unnatural causes," He recited, "Of those taken before their time."

A trickster deity of revels, and chaos, who greeted the dead, and longed for his wife, and had a son?

"There is much for you to still learn about us."

"And I look forward to it," She was careful with her words, "If you have a child, how can you wish to bargain over mine?"

He slowly returned to his feet.

"Don't you understand how scared I am?"

"My son is adopted."

"That doesn't mean you love him any less."

"And perhaps my love for them both is precisely why I'm willing to bargain with you," He reminded her, "We will not bring harm to your child."

"Isn't your whole thing tricking humans?"

"Do you still view yourself as a human?"

"I think I was pretty well punished for thinking I could play God."

His laugh echoed through MJ's little grove, only for the grass under her hands to seemingly crawl.

She instantly yanked up, staring at the lack of bugs.

Samedi raised an eyebrow at her panic.

MJ carefully slid her fingers back among the blades.

"My son was murdered. Brutally," His eyes were pinned on her actions, "I would not wish that experience on anyone, even if death is the only reason we have him."

MJ dug her nails into the ground, still feeling that squirm, just out of reach.

"Mira?"

"Perform a song," She instructed, "Something's different."

"Only if you sing it with me."

~***~

"Well, well," Kol leant back on the floor, "The power of a firstborn Mikaelson Witch indeed."

Hope's eyes were big, staring at him, then at the messy floor, noticing the smashed goblet and blood stains across all the scribbled pages. Eventually, she looked up. At that large portrait, her face finally relaxed, like she found some form of comfort in it, still surrounded by candles.

"You can't be older than six."

"It's my birthday," She finally let herself look at the two humans, "...I, uh...I'm turning six – today."

Kol tilted his head, "It's already the 2nd of May?"

"You know my birthday?"

Kol couldn't help but snort at how quickly she'd been distracted from his blood supply.

"I tried to send you an invitation – "

"It's the day I was resurrected."

Hope stilled, fingers intertwining again, unblinking as she focused on his face.

"It's also the day of your auntie's first death."

Hope's eyes dropped, "Did she die protecting my mum?"

Kol shifted.

"My mum doesn't realise I know," She pushed back and forth on her feet, "But I'm pretty sure she died today."

Kol curled his lip in, "Your mum's not dead."

"Well, like," Hope held her hands tighter, "To be a vampire."

"And you know about that too," Kol really stared at her, "Your mother wouldn't have let you come looking for me."

Her eyes dropped.

"You can't actually be here," He called out, "You must be projecting in, but to do that you'd need to know where to aim, and I'm possibly the most heavily cloaked creature in existence right now. Well..."

He wafted a hand.

"Other than you."

"I'm not cloaked."

Kol's eyebrows lifted slightly, not allowing his mouth to open.

"I was taught a spell," She found her voice instead, "And it brought me here."

"Blood-based magic, tied with projection."

"Yeah," Hope lifted her hand, a fresh cut across the middle of it, "Blood magic."

He forced himself back to his knees, letting himself look down at her.

"My mum wouldn't give me an address for the invitation," She tried to sound steady, "But it's my birthday, and, if you're my uncle?"

Kol hated that he was fighting off a smile.

"You should be at my birthday."

He laughed.

She frowned, "What's so funny?"

"I remember when the only word you could say was 'lion.'"

Hope's cheeks seemed to warm up, hands clenching into a fist as she glared at him.

"Congrats on becoming educated," He gave the word jazz hands, "Now, return to your mother."

"No."

"You," He pointed, "Have clearly been told nothing about me."

"I was told," She lifted her chin, "You're meant to be the fun uncle."

He snorted, "And who told you that?"

"Sam and Cami."

Kol tensed, "Well, they did always give me the benefit of the doubt."

Her expression dropped.

"Though," He tried to seem unbothered, "I am slightly offended Samu has not clarified our deep-rooted devoted love for one another. His opinion is automatically biased in my favour."

Hope couldn't help but giggle.

The sound left him frozen.

Why did he joke?

He didn't want to hear her childish laugh, or joyful eyes, or bond over anything – he wanted her to vanish into nothingness – He didn't want that. This was the baby he'd taken on walks and watched Mira rock to sleep. The baby he'd let Freya teach him how to hold.

Only for Freya to cost him his baby.

Kol hated the way his arms locked in position, like someone had hammered nails into every joint to keep him staring at her. Whit had told him to reach out, but what the hell did Whit know? This tiny girl was casting spells, and laughing at his jokes, and –

"They didn't tell me you were a witch," She finally let herself kneel too, turning one of the pages around, like she might be able to read it, "They said you were doing something dangerous, and I thought it was to do with my dad, but if it's just magic – "

"You should really put that back."

She lifted it up, "Can you teach me?"

"Leave it alone."

Hope's turn to freeze.

He hadn't raised his voice, in fact, Kol still hadn't moved an inch, his eyes lit up by the candles, allowing her to see exactly how they shined while staring at her hand. If she looked at him, she was forced to see those bleeding humans behind him, their own eyes empty, making it that much clearer that something was incredibly wrong. Their minds were not in control.

"My Uncle Finn is a terrible teacher," She managed to whisper, "And well..."

Hope let the page drop back to the floor.

"...My auntie isn't always around to help."

Kol's second of vulnerability vanished, "Freya escaped?"

"Who's Freya?"

And, suddenly, they were locked in a staring contest.

Kol took in her simple grey shirt and jeans, a singular tiny plait pushed behind her ear, trying to work out if he should ask about Rebekah – but how could Rebekah help Hope with magic? Maybe Kol was being cruel. Rebekah had spent a summer travelling as a witch, but –

Who's Freya?

Kol almost wanted to laugh if the child meant the question. Maybe he needed to stop being so harsh on Hayley – if she'd somehow let her daughter learn about him, but left Freya out? Well, now, that might justify MJ showing herself to the wolf. It still didn't explain why he couldn't see her, but –

"I have an aunt called Freya?"

"Why are you here?" Kol dodged, "If it's your birthday – "

"I wanted to spend it with my family."

Despite everything, a wave washed through Kol Mikaelson.

He was staring at tiny eyes, body ready to flinch away from him, clearly terrified by her surroundings, but facing him out of a desperation for answers. Out of longing for family. A longing for the world, he could only ever relate to. It was what he'd wanted. He'd goaded Klaus with the reality of forcing his child to live with the resentments Kol had, he just hadn't expected to have to face it himself.

Would his kid have felt like that?

Would they have hidden things? Would they have been left hunting for answers on their own?

No.

There was no universe Kol would have let his child get this desperate for information.

"Why aren't I allowed to meet you?"

Kol glanced over his shoulder to the two bodies, compelled still and silent, blood and ink across the floor.

He couldn't help but think the answer to that was obvious.

Then again, not every kid was as smart as him.

"Do you have my father?" Hope turned stern, if a child could be stern, "Because, if you do? I would quite like him back."

Kol hated that he was smiling so much.

She stressed, "You shouldn't be keeping me from him."

"And, I'm not - you can bring up where your father is with Elijah."

"If you don't have him," Hope frowned, "You should be helping me find him - we're family."

And his joy died, "I see your mother's taught you that lesson early."

Hope couldn't help but shift under his dry tone.

"Let me teach you a new one," He moved to his feet, towering over her, "Family does not mean a thing."

Hope swallowed, eyes drifting back to the blood on the floor.

"It's the people you choose to love – the ones who choose to love you, that matter."

Her shoulders dropped, like the tension was being sapped from her body, able to look him in the eyes again, almost...jealous?

"That choice?" He shook his head, "It's forged out of something so much stronger than DNA you did not have a say in."

"Then why are you alone?"

Kol couldn't stop himself from blinking rapidly.

"While I have guests at my birthday party."

"If you have guests," He turned from her, dipping to pick up The Nwa, "Why are you wasting your birthday on me."

She'd used Cami's name.

And Sam's.

And Finn's.

"Get out."

Finn made sense – but Cami and Sam? Cami was meant to be trailing him – had she finally given up? Kol had been begging for them all to take the hint, but if she'd actually done that, then run to Hayley? Sure, it kind of made sense. Kol had left her 'boyfriend' in a dungeon, Cami was bound to change her focus back to Klaus eventually, but had she actually given up on him?

"As impressed as I am by your spell," He moved to the window, "I don't – "

"MJ left you a voicemail."

~***~

Josh lay on his coffee table, which was quite an interesting experience to say the least, a magic circle drawn across the floorboards, Tia above his head, hands on his temples, Ryos perched on the arm of the sofa. Well, not perched. That made it sound like he was standing on the arm, which, you know what, Josh wouldn't put passed him, but –

Not the point.

The ghost was leaning against the sofa arm, carefully watching as Tia brushed soaking wet sage across his face, a collection of incense sticks burning in the back, little jars floating on a simmer pot, on the stove.

Sometimes Josh wondered how he got himself into these situations.

And why neither Tia nor Ryos found it strange.

"Tè, Dlo, Lè, Dife."

The spell was a list of phrases Tia had arrived with, Ryos reorganising them into a melody, carefully teaching her each note, and the importance of the movements among it. She'd prepared the mixture for the sage, the liquid being brushed over his body incredibly far from water, allowing the ghost to focus on the tune.

Ryos had also given her a list of ingredients for the liquid.

She was always glaring at him slightly, not enjoying the fact his tips seemed to work, but...Tia wanted to learn. If she could work with MJ, after everything the covens, and The Mikaelson's, had done, she could stomach a man who'd gotten to know the spirits she'd never met.

"Manman Vin Netwaye Mwen."

Whatever got her closer to them.

"Tè, Dlo, Lè, Dife."

The sage was finally dragged up Josh's face...

"Libere Lespri A, Ann Wè."

His eyes shut, head bobbing back against the table, Tia gently pulling his mouth open as a small vial was poured down his throat.

"You're sure this will work?" She tried to have faith.

"No clue," Ryos hadn't lied to Josh, "I've never met a Kitsune before, but this should cleanse his system of any tampering magic."

"So," Tia stepped away as Josh seemed to lull into sleep, "It's whether Kitsune abilities count as magic."

"Exactly."

They both stared at his form.

Tia glanced towards the stove like she was worried the mixture might bubble over. When it didn't? She let her eyes return to the ghost. Ryos Jung crossed his arms, biting into the left side of his lip, watching as Josh's head seemed to sway, then, glancing to the walls.

"Could you summon Legba for me?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"He's not answering my calls," She knew he already knew that, but, "And I don't understand how you can tap in, but I can't."

"You're born here."

"So are you."

"But I learnt Voodoo overseas," Ryos shrugged, "You step outside of this city, and whatever magic the covens did to dampen your abilities will vanish."

"So," Her mouth opened, "We just leave?"

He sighed, "That's the quick fix."

"This is our home," She crossed her arms, "I grew up – "

"I'm not the person who screwed you guys over," He put his hands up, "You asked a question, I answered it – sorry it's not what you wanted to hear."

"There has to be a way," She tugged at her sleeve, "A spell, or some ritual."

She was dressed in a tight green top, tiny sleeves just covering her shoulders and low rise jeans, their wide legs swishing as she moved, hair in braids, blue strands threaded among them.

"Like – "

"Almost definitely," Ryos didn't argue, "There's so many spells to renew magic, or imbue magic, it's just..."

She pushed up in her trainers, dots of wax on either side of her eyes.

"Honestly, destroying the ancestral realm should've done it for you," He understood why she was puzzled, "The fact that it didn't?"

"Maybe the magic's not all gone," She couldn't stop herself from eyeing up the walls, "Or maybe whatever they did to stop our spirits from making contact was just stronger."

"Be careful with soil," Ryos's voice was distant, "You never quite know what you'll be tying yourself to."

"MJ's in the soil," She defended, "If our spirits like you, they'll like her."

He didn't argue against that, he just let himself frown.

"Has anyone ever told you; you're a real downer?"

"If there's still ancestral magic in the soil, that means it'll be tied to that piece of MJ."

"MJ's not in pieces anymore," Tia rolled her eyes, "We know from her Mystic Falls – "

Before the point could finish, Josh's body started to lurch, the coffee table bursting into flames beneath him as his eyes burned red.

"Fuck."

Ryos took a rushed stepped forward, Tia's hands lurching up.

"What's happening?"

He took a practised breath in.

"Is this meant to happen?"

Josh's clothes singed as his flesh started to blacken.

"How do I stop it?"

"You tell me."

Tia froze, "What?"

"Kitsune magic is based in the soul, his soul is covered in it, and it's lashing out," Ryos forced his words to be quick as the table collapsed into the fire, "You know how to protect a soul,"

"What are you talking about?"

"Protect his soul."

"I don't – "

"You wanna practise voodoo?" Ryos forced himself not to look at the vampire, "Practise Voodoo."

Tia breathing instantly picked up as she realised, he wasn't joking.

He wasn't just gonna wave his hand and put it out.

There was a man, a very kind vampire, literally going up in flames at her feet, because she'd cast a spell this ghost-guy had given her, and she was always told off for being too trusting, but if she didn't let herself trust people –

Josh was on fire.

JOSH WAS ON FIRE.

"I – I – "

Soul magic?

"I don't – "

Their rituals never worked!

"Wax – "

How would wax help if his spirit was already being burnt up? Wax just stopped the bad spirits from getting in, it didn't save you, so how was she meant to save him?

"Time's ticking," Ryos tilted his head, "He may be immortal, but – "

"Shut!" Tia shot her hands out, "UP!"

They clapped back together on either side of Josh's head, going through every ritual she knew that might preserve a mind, or a soul, or a person. She could plead with Samedi? Or Guede Nibo? Or – Or –

Fire.

Josh was on fire.

"Oshun," She let the flames roast against her fingers, "Oshun reponn mwen."

Her family once prayed to the river goddess.

"Kite larivyè a koule nan mitan mwen."

As her eyes shut, begging her body to reach beyond whatever power kept the Voodoo Queens from their true potential. Josh was a vampire. He wasn't an enemy of the witches – and, hell, half the witches' believed MJ was the sole ancestor powering their city nowadays, and he was her friend, and MJ would let her magic through!

"Pran swen ak nouri lavi sa a."

By closing her eyes, she missed Ryos's mouth begin to move, mirroring her words without making a sound.

"Ide were were nita Oshun."

"Oshun reponn mwen."

As the window seemed to inch open, a soft guitar flickered in the wind, like a busker had appeared just below their window.

"Ide were were."

"Kite larivyè a koule nan mitan mwen."

The fire turned from orange to blue – not the neon blue that haunted Ryos's mind, but a royal one, with specs of green at the tip, rippling into each other until they looked more like a teardrop. Like a peacock feather; that guitar strumming louder in their ears until Tia was able to look, eyes in awe of the reaction.

"Ide were were nita oshun."

"Pran swen ak nouri lavi sa a."

Instead of a spitting flame, the odd crackling became like feet, dancing alongside them, some kind of perfume racing up her nose; was it pumpkin? No – wine. Or oranges? Something sugary, desperate to be thrown into the flames, reborn into something new.

"Ide were were nita ya."

It was incredibly hard to sing without being heard, but Ryos needed the magic to match.

"Ocha kiniba nita oshun."

He watched as water droplets seemed to form against Josh's blistering skin, moments off of burning entirely in the tail of a Kitsune, his eyes flicking from red to brown in panic as he began to register what was happening.

As he woke up and began to fight.

Sloshing up, Tia's hands forced to follow, that water stretching out across his cheeks, and his arms, and his clothes, soaking through like the fire was nothing but wood.

"Cheke cheke cheke."

Until it wasn't even wood either.

"Nita ya."

Until there was nothing but Josh, panting for air, patting down his entirely healed arms, hair sopping down his forehead, Tia's arms instantly giving him the tightest hug.

"Ide were were."

"Mèsi, Oshun."

Ryos felt his lips twitch as he breathed out, watching the pair rock back and forth on the floor of the apartment, Tia pressing a kiss to her fingers before pressing it into the centre of her collar.

A brass necklace hung there.

Josh slowly leaned out of her hug, eyes moving to Ryos.

"You are literally," Tia shook her head, "The worst."

"Am I?"

"How!" She shoved Josh away, shooting to her feet, "Dare you!"

"Okay," Josh rubbed his eyes, "What just happened?"

"He was gonna leave you to die!"

"Not true," Ryos pointed, "I was giving you a chance to work."

Tia's mouth dropped open.

"Part of your issue is the city," His other hand came up, like he was being interrogated by the police, "The other is belief."

"I don't believe enough?"

"I think you believe in your spirits plenty," Ryos didn't really know these people, "But you don't have a lot of believers around you."

Her rage simmered slightly.

"So, you don't believe in yourself either."

Just The Lwa themselves.

"But you did it," He pointed to Josh, "You saved him."

Tia's eyes returned to the floor, seeing the dazed vampire sway, no sign of any burns, just a lot of damp skin, and a slight puddle on the floor.

"You called on your deity, and she answered."

"...She answered."

Ryos bobbed his head.

"Oh gods," Tia's hands raced to her face, "She answered me!"

Summoning Papa Legba didn't feel real, since Ryos had done all the work, and Samedi had just appeared, which seemed more like a reaction to MJ than anything else, so yes, maybe Tia had started to doubt the world. Her spirits had responded to non-born-practitioners more than their own tribes, but now?

"She – she – "

"Congrats," Ryos rolled his eyes, smile obvious, "You did it!"

Josh was staring up at them, eyes narrowing at the smile.

"Now," Ryos looked back at him, "What did you see."

"...I..." Josh rubbed his eyes, "I don't know."

Tia's excitement vanished, "It didn't work?"

"I don't know," He was just shaking his head, "I can't...it's all..."

"Don't do that," Ryos pointed at Tia, despite not looking at her, "No deflating – you saved him."

She curled her lips in, allowing herself a tight nod.

"All this means is you try again, on a different day, without me killing the mood."

She almost managed a smile.

"Was I on fire?" Josh suddenly straightened up, "I have a really clear memory of being on fire."

Ryos looked at Tia, "Go home and rest."

Their pages of potions were sitting on the sofa, safe from the flames.

"See what you think needs changing in my little mix now you've remembered you're the only true master of your magic here."

She slowed slightly, really looking at him.

At the glint in his eyes.

"If you think MJ's in the soil, the sooner we find out what he knows, but can't know, the better," Ryos reminded her, "It might just explain the whole lingering magic thing."

"Because I'd know about lingering magic?" Josh let himself sound defeated too.

"If you didn't know something," Ryos stepped back, giving him space to stand up, "No one would've felt the need to cloak it."

~***~

"When Sam visits, he only ever spends time with me," Hope spoke quickly, "But then he just showed up, and pulled my mum into the kitchen, and then, Uncle Finn came home for a full month."

Kol couldn't quite believe she could talk so smoothly now.

"And he's still with us – then Cami arrived," Her hands pressed into her sides, "And they keep trying to keep me out the loop, but I heard 'MJ,' and I heard 'Kol,' and I heard them say she left a voicemail."

There was a lot of information in what was basically three sentences.

Sam didn't seem to be on speaking terms with Hayley; Kol could accept that.

Cami had seemingly been summoned to the house because of some voicemail?

Finn was clearly a presence in Hope's life, but also an in-and-out one? Meaning he was probably the one looking for wolves? Or for Freya herself? Or, for a cure for Rebekah? God, Kol had left them a lot of problems to fix, his smile evident at the reminder. There was no way they'd solve all of them. His family just wasn't that capable, especially with Klaus in the dungeon.

"I know you can help me find my dad," She let her hands grace over the spell pages once more, "If you don't have him, I know you have the power to find him."

Kol's lips became a thin line, walking towards the edges of the room.

"It's obvious when they talk about you."

Did he want them to talk about him?

Hope clearly didn't know the full story if she thought Kol was a potential ally, rather than an enemy, but that also just meant Hayley wasn't teaching her child battle strategy...

Someone had to be the normal parent, and they all knew it wasn't Klaus.

"I think they're scared of your magic, but...I don't care if it's scary, or evil," Hope decided, "If it can find my dad."

"No magic is inherently evil," Kol forced his mouth to move, "It's only ever up to the caster."

She stared up at him.

"Meaning you should be incredibly scared of mine."

"Why?" She was slightly too okay with the body lumped in the corner, "I know you loved someone very much, which means you're not truly evil either."

He carefully opened the window, Verite Nwa even tighter in his hand.

"You can help me find my dad," She pitched it, "And I'll talk to my mum about letting you speak to 'MJ.'"

He faced her, letting the breeze brush against his arms.

"I know something happened," She shifted, eyes darting around, "If that's why you left – "

"MJ phoned?"

Not a ghostly haunting, but a physical call?

Hope just nodded, noting how he wasn't snapping at her to release the spell pages this time, instead just watching her like a hawk. It felt strange to stare at a child, in their simple top, and innocent eyes, and let your mind wander into analysis.

She'd projected to him.

She thought he knew where Klaus was, which he did, but she thought he knew because he was a witch, not because he was the reason she'd never see her father again.

Why hadn't Hayley just told her that?

Maybe she had, and Hope didn't care. She was pitching the situation like a deal – like they had something to offer each other – like she wasn't a child, with reddish hair and her father's eyes, while Kol would never know what features his kid might have inherited.

"Hope?" Hayley's voice snapped him back into reality, the girls' eyes going wide in panic, "HOPE!"

Her form vanished as quickly as it had appeared, the spell breaking the minute something appeared to distract her, or scare her, or who knew what was going on in whatever safe house they were coddled up in.

Except, Kol now knew they weren't coddled.

He hadn't ruined Hope's life!

She was celebrating her birthday. With guests! While he sat in that tower, surrounded by magic, the thing he was meant to love, with no one but three humans compelled to feed him, and a portrait of a life he'd once led, no idea what she was talking about. MJ had phoned someone? MJ had left a voicemail? MJ had form.

~***~

"Did you actually leave me to die," Josh was lying on his couch as Ryos ran his hand through the puddles on the floor, "Or did you do the spell?"

"Hm?"

"Did you leave me on fire?" Josh forced himself to sit up, "Or did you cast some spell in the background?"

"You're awfully calm," Ryos countered, "If you actually think I committed arson."

Josh glanced to the painting by the balcony door, "Hardly the first time this room's been temporarily on fire."

Ryos followed his eyeline.

Then, he sat, one hand still tracing the water, a leg stretched across the floor.

"Tia did everything" He glanced up to the vampire's position on the sofa, "I don't know why you'd think anything else."

Josh just held his look.

Ryos smiled.

"I'd 'think something else,'" The vampire closed his eyes, "Because I was the one who felt the magic."

Ryos's smile vanished.

"And it wasn't Tia, it was you."

"You don't know what my magic feels like."

Josh's eyes opened, incredibly pointed.

"How would you?"

"So, you admit there was magic to feel."

Ryos opened his mouth, "Doesn't mean it was mine."

"Well, it felt like MJ's," Josh watched something sting in Ryos's eyes, "And I'm pretty sure that's not because of Tia."

The ghost traced a circle in the water.

"Like," Josh's voice turned quieter, watching the action, "Not exactly the same."

By looking down at him, he could see how Ryos's eyes were lingering on his own reflection, the finger sending a ripple through it.

"Just...familiar."

It wasn't much water, but it also didn't seem ready to evaporate any time soon.

"Which doesn't even get into the part where, yeah, I do think I know what you feel like," Josh decided, watching the man finally look back at him, "I mean, come on."

Ryos's hair seemed a smoother than previous visits, a baggy cream cardigan over his usually exposed shoulders, one sleeve pushed up to his elbow, the other left to puff down to his wrist.

"I've been summoning you for months now."

And, they were only just getting to the help Josh had initially asked for.

"I think I – "

"Tia needed to believe it was her," Ryos pulled the higher sleeve down too, "I'll leave the actual spell for you to pass on."

Josh bit his lip.

"I want voodoo back in the city," He spoke like he thought he needed to defend himself, "Sorry if you feel used: I would've stepped in if she'd frozen, I mean, I did step in."

He'd been so against helping them during that first summoning.

"But she needed the confidence boost, and she did do half of it herself."

"That's..." Josh hated himself, "Incredibly nice of you."

"You could've died."

"Yeah, well," Josh pulled his legs up a little, "The fact it's taken you this long to try murdering me is pretty impressive given the whole 'serial killer' thing."

"I'm not going to kill you, Josh."

The Floare stones were dotted around the room letting Ryos roam as much as he wanted, but, as much as they allowed everyone to see him, he still couldn't really touch. When Vincent summoned him, that extra boost of magic gave him a better foothold, but Josh?

The vampire frowned, "I was trying to be funny."

"I know," Ryos tapped his nail into the water, "Still worth saying, sometimes."

Josh's turn to let his eyes drop to the floor, his turn to focus on that rippling reflection.

"It's something to do with MJ's body," He admitted, "I don't know what I saw, but I saw her body."

Ryos's arms tensed, reminding Josh that they were hidden under that cardigan, slightly annoyed that he was so fixated on that choice. 

"I don't know where, or why, but..." He sunk back into the sofa, "Sorry."

"A kitsune doesn't want you to know something," Ryos leant back slightly too, staring at the ceiling, "Not your fault the magic failed."

It had been his spell.

"I'll write something stronger," He thought aloud, "Obviously, we know the caster, but if you don't want him involved, I can try and use you to track other traces of it in the city? See if that lets Tia tap in, or gives us any hints – "

"I know that I asked for your help," Josh winced, "But don't stress about it too much."

"If it's about MJ's body, I'm gonna stress."

Josh let his eyes travel back to Ryos's.

"And you're a nice person," He quickly added, "If someone's fucking with you..."

Josh raised an eyebrow.

"I've done a lot of bad things," Ryos lulled, "Let me try and do something nice."

Josh breathed out, looking at how the ghost on his floor ran his hands over enchanted water, like he might try and lap it up. There was something inherently terrifying in how quickly Ryos could change, and Josh knew that. He'd watched this man break MJ in under half-an-hour then instantly switch into protective brother mode the minute Vincent outed his hex, then back into rage-bait the minute MJ returned. Sure, it was about protecting her, but being able to say those things? Being able to just switch between personalities like that?

Josh had shut his eyes, and not even questioned the spell, because he'd looked at Ryos, and he'd felt safe. He shouldn't have, but he did. He'd been an arse, but his potion had saved Kol, so Josh had lain on that table like it was still his roommate, not her demented older brother.

This was all meant to be about MJ, and just MJ.

"Sometimes I feel like everyone's talking about MJ," His mouth moved, "But no one's actually saying anything."

Ryos shifted towards the sofa.

"Sam's always parenting the wolves, Davina's stuck with the Pethane thinking they'll get a breakthrough, and Vincent didn't really know her the way I did, and Marcel..." Josh breathed in sharply, "And that doesn't even get into the insane Pasare Smiler Tours that've started up."

Ryos frowned.

"Everyone's always talking about what she represents," He wanted to pretend he'd trusted Ryos's magic because of MJ, "I just really miss her."

In a weird way, it was hard to mourn someone when their name was everywhere.

Ryos just looked down.

Josh wasn't sure what he'd expected him to say, he'd just needed to say it, and then...

"Do you wanna know something awful?"

Josh tried to lighten his own mood, "You?"

"My last real memory is MJ saying she felt sick."

Josh straightened up to stare at him.

"I got hexed days earlier," Ryos admitted, "But it didn't really take affect – hexes are meant to be long, they want you to suffer."

The vampire's stomach started to churn.

"My mum and I were casting spells to try and find the book they stole, and everything made me wanna scream, but I still felt like me," He winced, "The first hallucination kicked in the morning she died."

Josh frowned.

"I didn't even really register it, I, I, I just thought it was ancestors, and my dad was taking us out, but MJ came into the kitchen, and she said she felt sick."

The vampire knew a little bit about that day, "You guys can't get 'normal' sick."

"Mum was out, and dad didn't know, and I wasn't gonna snitch, because, for all I knew, she might've been sick," Ryos reasoned, "MJ heard things I didn't, she was affected by the type of magic she siphoned, and she looked tired."

She'd felt the unrest in the walls.

MJ had thought she'd been lying, but something inside of her hadn't wanted to leave.

She never said no to a day with her dad, and yet?

"I lost my mind, but the last thing in it was my baby sister saying she felt sick," He repeated, "And, suddenly I became a doctor?"

Ryan had called out the shift in focus when they'd summoned him. Ryos had always been smart, they knew that from Vincent, and they knew he'd been interested in science, but his parents had expected a creative path. Maybe it was rebellion against Ana's legacy in him. Maybe music was too close to everything they'd lost, so he'd never been able to enjoy it the same way. Or maybe it was that memory, of the last good day his mind had, of his sister needing his help.

"Every choice was meant to be about her," Ryos exhaled, "But I just kept hurting her, because I couldn't let go of the rush."

The dark magic in his veins.

"And now, I can't even find her."

He kept waiting to be summoned, like one day she'd be the one doing it.

"I spent every second of my life missing her," He'd kept those family photos for a reason, "Until there was nothing left inside of me to feel at all."

Josh let his body turn, feet hitting the floor, desperate to face him fully.

"I..." He tilted his head, "I don't really know how to be sad."

He did bitchy, and angry, and resentful.

"It all used to get smothered, but that's not really an option anymore, but she's dead, and..."

"I'm so sorry," Josh whispered, "After everything..."

He just looked up, pulling his knees towards his chest, letting the cardigan wrap around them, "I'm sorry too."

In a way, Josh had a greater claim on the loss than he did.

"I'm sure she was an incredible person to know."

"She sent you enough ways to know her."

"Yeah," Ryos pressed his chin into his knees, "In every video, she'd somehow do something, or say something, that was just so...me...and I couldn't really live with it."

Their mannerisms had always been similar.

"I'd put mountains between us," His eyes shut, "So she wouldn't have to hurt as much."

The unspoken reality of always knowing he'd have to die.

"But..." He shook his head, "Eventually she started lying more, and that made it a bit easier to pretend we'd finally grown apart...tailoring everything to only be the positives, but that was a whole different type of worse."

"How?"

"Proved how well she still knew me."

"I think you knew her better than you think, too," Josh knew his throat was dry, "You can keep asking me all your questions but knowing 'the positives' is the only bit that really mattered."

"Being there for her for everything else would've mattered more."

The vampire let his eyes turn misty.

"Sorry," Ryos pulled his hand from the water, "This was meant to be about you mourning."

"You were only fifteen, Ryos."

Hearing his name seemed to make the ghost shift.

"And you were in hell."

"And now I have the rest of my death to come to terms with the fact I made her life hell too," He brushed his arms, letting his legs stretch back out again, "And, if I don't, at least I get to enjoy hating everything that led to it all."

"One day it won't just be hate," Josh couldn't help but say it like a promise, "God, when...I..."

He frowned at his own hesitation.

"There was this guy, Aiden," He hadn't had to explain it in a long time, "He was my boyfriend."

"Who killed him?"

"Mystical Mikaelson Aunt Dahlia."

Ryos choose not to question that part.

"Afterwards, I just hated everything," He almost laughed at himself, "And I mean everything."

Maybe that was why he could feel so much sympathy for Ryos's anger.

"Even the sun," Josh shook his head, "It just kept coming up every morning, like it was any other day, and the world hadn't completely changed, and... then there was MJ."

It felt nice to say her name without morals arguments weighing it down.

"Pulling me out of bed to make pancakes."

"She gets the sunshine from our dad."

"I noticed," Josh actually grinned, "It took me forever to feel normal again, and sometimes I'm not even sure I do."

"Very happy for you," Ryos lifted an invisible glass.

"It gets better," Josh didn't match the gesture, just holding his look, "Eventually. It always does."

Ryos let the fake glass lower to the floor.

"And feeling sad can actually be pretty nice sometimes."

"Grief?"

"Love."

Ryos let out an amused exhale through his nose.

"You're allowed to say you loved her," Josh tried, rephasing a message he'd given MJ, "You don't think you deserve to, but you still can. Life shouldn't just be about guilt."

"Luckily for me, I'm not alive."

"I don't think death should be either," Josh let his tone lift, "Unless, of course, you're as Catholic as my Abuela."

"Mis padres estaban increídlemente en contra de la religion."

"Tu padre es un buddhista."

"Hoy en dia," Ryos defended, "Y supongo que todas las brujas son un poco religiosas."

"Y tú eras un líder de culto," Josh pointed, "Eso no funciona con la culpa católica."

"That's because it's regular guilt," Ryos pointed right back, "And I quite enjoy feeling it."

"Whatever you say, joy-less."

They were just smiling at each other, for a moment.

Then, Josh's own guilt started to trickle in.

Why did he keep doing this?

"Thank you," Ryos shifted back, "For letting me talk."

His eyes went back to the water.

"Legba's kinda the only person I ever really did that with."

"Eh," Josh tried to shrug it off, "Is that not the point of our arrangement."

"You're the one meant to be doing the talking; getting all your memories out."

"Hate to break it to you," Josh rolled his eyes, "Asking questions is still talking."

Ryos smiled, pointing up, "Beside the point."

"Well, if you don't have a question," Josh should've just ended the summoning, "I'm incredibly happy to let you keep talking."

Beat.

"If it means you realise you did actually know stuff about your sister," He rushed out, "You probably have so many stories that you don't even realise – "

"What was it like to have an abuela?"

Josh couldn't help but blink in surprise.

"Our family was always so small," He turned so that his back could rest against the sofa, tilting his head up to look at Josh, "And then I found all these relatives on my mum's side, but they didn't know me, and I didn't know them, but like...apparently my Nǎinai was a nightmare."

"Mine was too."

"Mesye La Kwa, avanse pou l'we yo
Maman Brigitte malad, li couche sou do."

Samedi had taught MJ a few songs while trying to draw his wife into her realm. If MJ could breach other afterlives, and pieces of Brigitte still lingered in other parts of the world, she should have been able to draw them out, freeing the spec the covens had captured out of her body. MJ hadn't even meant to create this bond with The Lwa. She'd opened the Nwa, and Brigitte had sprung forward, desperate to escape, only to end up in MJ's body rather than reunited with the rest of her spirit.

"Pawol anpil pa leve les mo
Mare tet ou; mare vant ou; mare ren ou."

The words were so easy to say after years of New Orleans magic.

Maybe MJ should've questioned why all their spells were written in Haitian Creole when so few of the covens actually practised voodoo...and, according to Vincent and The Queens, the voodoo they did practise wasn't even the real thing. Each lesson from Samedi only made that more obvious. The covens used spells on dolls, simple phrases to imbue an object with power, but that wasn't voodoo.

They should've needed a ritual, and a song, and a patron to worship.

"Yo prale we ki jan yap met a jenou."

In a way, it was closer to Floare magic, which, well, did make a lot of sense. Voodoo had been forced to survive travel, and there were so many elements of it in Catholic Spanish communities, which is probably why she could even try and perform it.

"Mesye La Kwa, avanse pou l'we yo."

As MJ tugged up, the grass turned sharper, more bristled.

Dry.

Letting her sap strength from it the way a Floare could, melding her essence with the natural world – if it even counted as natural? Death was incredibly natural. If it wasn't, why did her voice blend with Samedi' deep nasally tone so easily.

"Maman Brigitte malad, li couche sou do."

As grass snapped into her palms, the scent of chocolate and orange began to fill the air, Samedi's voice vanishing in surprise.

"Pawol anpil pa leve les mo."

MJ didn't need him to keep going, she knew the words, even if she wasn't performing the rest of the ritual the living typically needed. She wasn't trying to perform a ritual. She wasn't asking Brigitte for a favour, or guidance, or power, she was just...

Looking for her.

And the smell in the air?

"Mare tet ou; mare vant ou; mare ren ou."

MJ hadn't smelt anything as intoxicating as it since she'd been back in the realm of the living.

She may be able to touch and hear, but smell?

God, she hadn't even thought about smell, and now that she was, it was everywhere. Samedi's aura was the only thing creating difference in her life, but now she remembered fruit? Now she could breathe in molten chocolate instead of smoke.

"Yo prale we ki jan yap met a jenou – "

As MJ's voice went up for the final note, her hands lifted –

A scream snapped both of their eyes open, Samedi spinning, fear in his eyes that no Lwa should ever carry, only to drop back into disappointment.

Like a flopped fish, there was a body clawing its way out of the river, begging for help, MJ raising a confused eyebrow, instinctively wanting to help, but not stupid enough to actually risk touching the woman.

"Please," Her eyes were rabid, "Breath."

"That's not your wife."

"It's not," He crossed his arms, "That, is one of yours."

~***~

"You can't ignore me forever," Hayley mused, slowly cutting the cake into pieces as a very awkward lunch took place, "You're not even in trouble."

Hope was pouting, a party hat on her head, Cami on the child's other side, gently rubbing her shoulder while Finn lingered by the door, having just flipped on the lights post-candles. Glittering gold bunting had been hung along the windows, the table covered in a birthday print cloth, paper plates trying to replicate a picnic, only a few leftovers remaining.

"I'm sorry for yelling," Hayley started, "I was just scared."

"It's just magic," Hope stared at the silver bracelet on her wrist, "It's not bad."

"It can be."

She lifted her head slightly, "It's up to the user."

"And there's Kol," Cami murmured, Hayley shooting her a look, "How was your uncle?"

Hope wasn't great at eye contact but tilted her head to talk in Cami's direction, "Busy."

"If you..." Finn returned to his seat, "If you saw anything inappropriate – "

"He was just reading stuff."

They were sitting in a house in Arkansas, refurbished following the Elijah-Finn explosion, sun outside the window, Hayley placing a slice of birthday cake in front of her gently. Not sure what to say or do. She was mad at her, but she also wasn't, it was hard to explain. Hope had clearly been learning magic, and there was nothing Hayley could do to stop it, but her magic had been used to track them multiple times, and even if she'd now seen MJ's face?

"He's trying to save my friend," Hope reminded them, "Right?"

Across the table, under the plates of cake, were a collection of crayon drawings Hope had been making, some of her mum, some of animals she liked, and one of a woman with red-brown hair and golden eyes. The drawing was too much of a scribble to be sure, but that didn't change the unspoken reality of it being MJ.

"If we save her, she knows where dad is, so she can save him, and – "

"Sweetie," Hayley finally found a voice, "That's a really nice idea."

"Then why aren't we doing it?"

"Because, to save her..." Hayley winced, "That type of magic could hurt you a lot."

"But – "

"If MJ wanted you to save her," She placed cutlery next to the cake slice, "She would've asked."

Hope's shoulders dropped slightly.

"She'd never put you in that position."

"She's been in that position," Cami added, "When she was your age, she had ghosts asking her for all sorts of things."

The ages didn't entirely line-up, but that was beside the point.

"Did you tell your uncle that you've seen her?"

"...No," She admitted, "I, uh..."

Cami ruffled her hair, gently, "You didn't just see reading, did you?"

Hope didn't answer, Hayley breathing out slowly.

It wasn't like Kol would've expected a visitor, so she couldn't blame him for not being child-friendly, but there were a lot of other emotions bubbling under her skin. Of course her daughter was an adventurous witch who'd somehow manage to track down her uncle despite all of them failing to do it on a loop – and of course she managed to do it, when he was up to something.

"Hope – "

"If our family sticks together," She focused on her mum, "Why isn't he here?"

Finn and Cami shared a careful look, her lips twitching down slightly. How had they ended up here? How had the man who'd tried to steal her body become the man she shared a look with?

"He doesn't know about my friend, but shouldn't he be here anyway?"

"Kol's exile is very much self-inflicted," Finn answered, "He does not want our help."

Cami made a sound, Hope's eyes landing on her, "Nowadays, it is."

"But, before?" Hope pushed up in her chair, "It was different?"

A quiet filled the room as Cami awkwardly took a piece of the cake from Hayley.

It was awkward, because Hayley wasn't looking at any of them, while Cami was trying to say 'I told you so' with her eyes, leaving Finn...

"We killed her."

Hayley shot up, unblinking glare on him.

"Well, not 'we' specifically," He clarified, seeing the irritated looks, "She knows that Mira's dead, we're lucky she hasn't outed the situation herself, and it's getting a bit ridiculous if she's going looking for Kol. He'll tell her if we don't."

"We 'killed' her?" Hope's voice shook, "But – "

"She died saving a city," Cami corrected, shifting her seat closer to Hope's. "She wanted to protect all the people like you."

A bop on Hope's nose.

"From some nasty ghosts, and a very bad man, and, well, a lot of things."

Hope grabbed Cami's finger, squeezing tightly.

"And we had a way to bring her back," She tried to keep the words simple, "But it got messed up."

"And our family hurt her?"

"Two members of this family made a choice," Hayley was quiet, "It ended badly, and now your friend, is, well...your friend."

"We have photos of her, from before," Cami took the opening Hayley was finally giving them, "If you'd like to see them?"

Hope was on the brink of tears, but a glimmer of sun was still able to sit in her eyes.

"Your dad did some very nice sketches of the pair of you, when you were very little."

"And she made me a whole scrapbook," Hayley couldn't help but sound nervous, "Less pictures of her in there, but a few of you together."

Hayley had tried to continue the scrapbook. There were less big moments to document, but, after being away from Hope twice before, she knew it wasn't always just about missing the big moments. Klaus had missed her go from a baby to a little girl, and if Hayley could offer him an inch of the comfort MJ's book had once given her?

"Hope," Hayley looked her daughter in the eye, "Your uncle is very upset with us because of all this, and once your dad's back – "

"Did dad hurt her?"

"No," Hayley paused, something flashing in her eye that Hope didn't quite understand, "Your father loved her very much."

The complexities of MJ's death were not for a six-year-old.

"That's why, once he's back, he'll talk to your uncle."

Hope bit her lip.

"MJ's given us a way to your dad," Hayley took her hand, "We've just got to figure a few more pieces of it out, and then?"

"He'll be home?"

"Less than a year," She promised, Cami's shoulders relaxing, head letting out a single nod of agreement, "Our family doesn't just stick together, we fight for each other. Always."

"And forever," Hope couldn't help but smile at the phrase from her mum's stories.

"We will see your uncle again, and we'll find a way to help MJ," Hayley just wished doing so wouldn't put Hope in the middle of it all, "We just need to bring your dad home first."

Something they could finally talk about doing.

~***~

Ryan Jung was folding laundry into careful piles across his bed, Serena's hair tied back as she worked her way through a skincare routine, the night sky hidden behind the closed blinds. The rest of the house was quiet, well, as quiet as a house in New Orleans could be, leaving their lights as the only ones still on, his light hum underscoring the bedtime routine.

Completely disrupted by a ringing phone.

Serena spun in the bathroom doorway, staring as Ryan instantly yanked the device out of its charging port, both still reeling from March.

They'd missed MJ.

They'd ended up with a voicemail from his deceased daughter, and they hadn't even been able to say anything to her, because it was just a voicemail. Meaning, every unknown number, or call from Caroline, or literally anything, might be a sign from her, and there was not a chance Ryan was missing it ever again – hell, even if he couldn't physically answer while in the sky, he was never leaving his unread messages until the morning ever again.

The number was unknown.

"Mira?" Ryan knew he shouldn't just announce it, but –

"I'll take that to mean you got a call too," Kol's voice was empty, both parties freezing, "Do you still have my phone? Or did you do the reasonable thing and bin it?"

"Kol..."

Serena crept into the bedroom, like that would stop the vampire hearing from knowing she was there.

"Are you okay?" Ryan couldn't help but start with that, "Do you need help – are you nearby – I – "

"No to all," Kol knew there was something ironic about that answer, "Mira left me a voicemail, do you have it?"

"...We do," He locked eyes with Rena, "Bonnie has her magic back."

His wife was instantly at his bedside table, pulling open the drawer to root through everything they'd tucked in there while Ryan bought them time.

"They met the Devil."

Kol somehow didn't react to that announcement.

"MJ ended up with a foothold for at least a day," Ryan's words got quicker, "I missed her too."

He needed that information out there.

"I, I, I was on a flight, so I completely missed her, but she left us messages, and then Tyler and Bonnie popped round to try and explain what happened," His voice caught as Rena pulled the phone out, gleaming in victory, "Bonnie's been looking for you, but her tracking spell shows you in about four locations at a time? And – "

"What was MJ's message?"

"Good to know you're still playing up this whole no humanity thing," Ryan finally snapped, "You could at least try and say 'please' or 'thank you.'"

Kol managed a snort.

"If you really wanna know, pop by for tea and we'll play it for you."

"Ryan."

"You don't get to scold me," He bit back, "You're the one running about, blowing up houses – "

"Technically Alaric blew it up."

" – My daughter finds a way to call you, and you miss it because you were too busy being dramatic! You threw your phone over my hedge," He called out, "If that's not a cry for help – "

"It was a message; stop phoning me."

"I'll stop calling when you stop sending my kid's Christmas presents."

Silence.

"Kol," Ryan softened, "Let us help."

"You can't help," Kol defended, "You're not a witch."

"Neither are you."

The second silence somehow hurt more, the complete lack of breath on the other side of the line told Ryan he'd hit the nail on the head. Kol was driving himself insane because he couldn't save MJ on his own, but he also couldn't trust a single person to help him after the betrayal of her death. Even if people had been willing to help...

They'd tried, and they'd failed, and the people meant to have his back forever were the reason she was shredded to pieces, and now the man he only ever wanted to approval of was pointing out one of the obvious flaws in Kol's plan to go in alone –

"Hi," MJ's voice appeared, Rena's pointed look at Ryan telling him to shut up, "I was just gonna try projecting to you, but I was slightly worried you'd assume I was a hallucination."

Kol finally breathed out.

"Or a fake, and...I, uh, I didn't wanna make this any worse."

Well, that at least answered one of his confused questions, waiting to explode.

"Kol..."

It was her voice.

It couldn't actually be her!

Kol had heard her voice in the back of his mind a million times – he'd heard it from The Verite Nwa, and he'd heard it in his dreams, and –

"I – I – "

Hearing her stammer was like a stab through his heart.

"Kol Mikaelson," Her voice jumped in volume, "How dare you?"

Kol's hand started to tremble as he heard the scratch in her throat, knowing he couldn't say anything to make the words stop.

It wasn't real.

The voicemail might've been, but MJ wasn't waiting on the other end of the line, she was just scolding him from...god! He didn't even know when this message was from! How long had it been waiting for him?

"Fuck with your family as much as you please!"

He let his eyes flutter shut, trying to find peace in that declaration.

"But," Her voice ached, "How dare you leave me down there."

His entire body went stark.

"I love you."

Kol hated that he knew what she sounded like when she was crying. He'd had to listen to it for months following his death – he'd had to hold her through it after her own – he'd begged himself to never be the reason she sounded like it ever again, but -

"You dramatic, scheming, genius, idiot."

He actually managed a laugh.

"I'm so sorry I got the spell wrong."

Why was she apologising?

"I really thought I was gonna make it out."

Any joy he'd felt at the momentary compliment vanished, taking in just how all over the place her voice was. No matter how much he begged for it to be fake – no matter how badly he wanted it to be a trick to mess with his humanity –

That spiral was one he knew personally.

The love of his life was crying into his voicemail, and he'd missed it.

"And I'm sorry for not figuring out how to ghost properly," She sobbed, "But I think I'm starting to get it, and you couldn't ghost properly either!"

His grip on his phone tightened as he could picture the way she'd try to joke through the tears.

"And I love you."

She still loved him?

"And I miss you."

"I miss you," He whispered, "Mira – "

"And, for the love of all the gods out there," Her anger was temporarily not aimed at him, "Because I'm starting to get so incredibly annoyed and confused about after lives, and deities, stop."

The word came out at the perfect level of firmness.

"Help your niece."

Kol pictured Hope's tiny eyes staring at him in that candlelit tower, trying to understand how she'd found him. There was no way Freya had escaped – he had too many eyes on Dowager House for that to have happened, but...

"Let Klaus go."

Kol felt his entire body start to sway.

"Turn your humanity back on."

He'd refused that request once already.

He'd been refusing it every time the metronome tried to swing.

Every time it almost hit, he'd been forcing it back the way it came.

"Or," She only got louder, "At the bare fucking minimum!"

She was crying because of him?

She was crying because of him.

And he hadn't let himself cry, because if he cried, he thought he'd lose her, but he'd lost her anyway, and if he'd just kept his phone on him he would've been able to explain himself, or hear her voice, or tell her that he still cared, and that she didn't need to fear being forgotten –

"Come visit me!"

There wasn't a second he'd forgotten what she sounded like.

"You've left my body in a grotty dungeon!"

Kol entire stomach started to scrunch up.

"With your insane brother!"

His skin was sticky, heat rushing under his skin, like vomit wanted to be spat up.

She thought he'd forgotten her –

She thought he'd left her behind?

"And you told Marcel you might try to kill me!"

She'd heard that?

"Because your humanity's off," She was clearly rolling her eyes, "We both know you wouldn't have the power to! I'm in a preservation spell! Come on, Kol – get a grip!"

She somehow managed to sniff, meaning this wasn't just a voice, but a true foothold, and Kol hadn't been the one to get her it. He'd been the one to leave her crying. And abandoned. And bitter, and –

And –

He couldn't breathe.

"How can someone be so smart, yet so stupid!"

Kol wanted to defend himself, but how could he defend himself when the image of her body on that floor, heart sitting between broken ribs, was running over his mind, to the point he might as well rip his own tongue out.

"I visited you every other fucking week when you were dead!"

He'd failed her.

He'd truly failed her.

She was going to spend the rest of her life thinking he didn't care – that he didn't want to care – that he'd never taken anything on board, and that he didn't want to be kind to her feelings despite all of the chances she'd always given him, when she'd always deserved better than him, and –

"But you've just left me behind."

As her words were overtaken by sobbing, Kol's own expression tried to bleed.

How do you cry?

How did he even begin to cry for her?

"You – You – "

"I'm so sorry," He could barely get the words out, "Mira."

He couldn't breathe.

How did you cry when you couldn't even breathe? And how were you meant to breathe when the only person who mattered was rotting away in a coffin, a million miles away, still in the clothes she'd died in – when you'd had to wash her skin clean of blood, that sticky smell still haunting his mind  until he was ready to rip the skin from his fingers.

"You have to realise!"

He'd – he'd –

"The reason you can't find my spirit is because you're not feeling me!"

Of course, part of Kol realised that.

Alongside his lack of magic, it was the other obvious flaw in his determination to never be near another person ever again. Other people had cost him MJ. Other people had turned on her, and used her, and cost them their future, and Kol couldn't face that!

How was Kol meant to face that?

"Memories aren't just things that happened once, they're things we feel, and that is what gives them power," She ranted through the tears, "So you, existing, as the memory of me – "

That was all he wanted to be.

Everyone tried to lord his supposed murder of the wolves as a disgrace to her legacy, but that wasn't where he'd failed. She wasn't even talking about that. He had to find relief in that – he had to be able to breathe.

She still claimed him?

"To anchor some spell, won't do anything!"

She. Still. Claimed. Him.

"Not without the emotion."

She wanted him to feel it?

Mira thought he could survive feeling it?

He abandoned her – he'd left her to feel this distraught but she still had faith?

"That is what will save me, Kol."

His family had done a lot of awful things through the years.

They'd hurt him in a lot of ways.

He'd hurt them too.

"You love me."

But he'd never thought they'd do this.

"Use it!"

When they played romance-roulette, it was with nobodies. There were rules. No one had touched Marcel – no one had touched Maci, no one had really touched Katherine after she'd escaped – there were certain lines they didn't cross, but – He'd loved her, and it killed him, because it had killed her.

"And, while I have you here!"

Why was she always so funny?

It made it incredibly hard to be depressed.

But, maybe that was all part of her plan; for every second Kol pretended to be a mastermind, he'd fallen in love with a real one, and she'd found a way back, and she'd found a way to call him?...She found a way to call him...A way to make him laugh...that was meant to be his job.

"I know damn well you're not actually killing off those wolf packs, and even if you are? Who cares!"

Oh, so she did know about that.

"I love you."

How could she love him?

"I love you."

Did she not realise it was what killed her?

"Do you need me to say it again?"

"Please."

"I love you, Kol Mikaelson," Her tears seemed to fade, "And there is nothing you can do to throw me off, or trick yourself into thinking you didn't care, or that I didn't care, or that I'd hate you now, because none of that's true!"

Kol could barely see, and he didn't know if it was because of tears, or lack of oxygen, or the lack of sleep he'd fallen into, trying to work out how on earth to respond to Hope's message.

Hope Mikaelson.

The little girl who got to grow up, while his child was thrown to slaughter.

"Please, Kol..." She begged, "I need to hear your voice."

She needed him.

She. Needed. Him.

She was asking for him, and he was traipsing across a different continent, pretending he could do anything to help her, knowing he had no one to turn to but her, and –

Kol begged his body to work.

He begged his lungs to just breathe.

"I'm sure someone will explain that I was here, and how, and why, and all that," She was breathing out, "But I'm usually in a whole new white limbo after life, and just..."

Kol felt his heart start to hammer.

It felt like a goodbye.

She was slowing down, meaning the message was going to end, and if he had to listed to her voice vanish ever again –

"Find me."

The familiarity of the phrase filled his chest with something he hadn't felt in years.

Among the scratching, and screaming, of panic and fear, and the emptiness that now existed in his chest, suddenly...that whole was warm. The nothingness was almost glowing, and Kol Mikaelson could breathe. He still couldn't really see – he still couldn't really understand what was happening, or what had happened, or what was going to happen, but...

He'd failed to save her, and he was losing hope, but she'd asked him to find her, and -

"I know you can."

She still loved him.

"I know you always have."

She was alone somewhere?

Trapped?

But she could see Klaus? And her body?

"And...until you do?"

Turning off his humanity was meant to have put him in control. It was meant to have made it all easier, and it wasn't even his actions that were making her cry, it was his absence?

And – and –

She's been fighting to find him as much as he's been fighting for her?

"Just, let me hear your voice."

The call didn't instantly end, meaning he could shut his eyes and listen as she took a final breath in, like she'd expected to hear his voice appear out of the nothingness he'd abandoned her to. He'd done this. He'd ignored her point about turning it back on, and it might've just cost him everything, but she wasn't mad at him, she just missed him, and Kol was –

Kol was sitting there.

Kol was being rude to her dad?

Kol was forcing himself to keep the switch off, so he didn't have to think about his family, claiming it was about grieving her – because it was about her! Kol didn't know how to grieve! The first time she'd died, he'd gone looking for her spirit, failed her then too, then fallen into a miserable pit, forced to help his mother. He hadn't been allowed to grieve openly! He wasn't meant to grieve! He wasn't meant to care.

Kol had died, and only two people alive had given a damn.

Maybe three.

He knew what that emptiness felt like, and he'd left MJ to it? He'd let her see him laugh, and joke, and lord his victory, like her life was just a prize to win back rather than the literal loss of his heart and soul. No wonder she was crying.

God, he was crying.

She'd given him a final moment of silence – a moment of her simply breathing, and his body instantly fell in time with it, only for it to cut off.

He'd run from her.

"Kol – "

The Original vampire hung up before her father could even try and make a point, or offer comfort, or who knew what else. Kol didn't know. He hadn't been there. He'd been so desperate to be alone – to make sure he was never betrayed again, that he'd betrayed MJ.

He'd left her!

And she'd still called him?

She was apologising?

Now the tears had started, they were impossible to stop.

He needed to see her.

He needed to hold her.

He needed to get back to that city, and drag her out of that dungeon, and make sure she saw every sunrise, and sunset, and smile, and apology, and - and - and -

~***~

"Please," The woman was shaking with cold as she finally fell into the grove, "Please."

"One of mine?" MJ watched cautiously.

Since the Cade-Enzo, Bonnie-Elena incident, she hadn't seen anyone else in her realm, even if Cade had implied other spirits were looming. If they were 'trapped' in her world, they should be trapped, not choking up water across her temporary drained riverbank grass.

"What do you mean – "

"You," The woman lurched up, like she'd meant to attack, only to fall weakly back to her knees, still gasping for air, "I beg – "

MJ tilted her head, really staring at her features.

The woman had blonde hair, sodden through, stuck to her cheeks and her neck as river water raced down her pale skin. Her clothes were incredibly fancy, a deep blue dress, covered in red flowers, and green leaves, more printed into the fabric than embroidered, the skirt puffing out on either side of her hips to extenuate the features, sleeves ending just after her elbow.

"1730s?" She assumed, "Hi, um...pareles-tu anglaise?"

"Libère-moi," The woman sobbed, "Nous sommes désolés – "

"Tradwi Konprann Tout."

The woman froze at MJ's waved hand, Samedi leaning forward to stare at her face, her eyes darting between them both like she wanted to scream again.

"That's better," MJ may be decent at languages, but she didn't want to accidentally mishear something from the first spirit to somehow escape the collapse, "I'm MJ."

The woman was still trembling, lips parting as Samedi only loomed further over her head, sniffing her soaked hair.

"And you are?"

"Peace," She stuttered out, "Please give us peace."

Samedi straightened up with a pointed smile, looking directly at MJ.

"We are sorry, I am sorry – "

"What for?"

"Everything."

MJ blinked very slowly, looking at the dainty features of this quite young woman, begging for something she wasn't sure she could grant her. She had to be in her twenties, and even if age expectations had changed a lot by the 21st century, for her to be dead? For this woman to be a city spirit, preserved at this point in her life?

"I did not know," She let her words rush out, "I do not know!"

"You're gonna have to be a little clearer," MJ winced.

"I wished to help," The woman's fists slammed into the floor, "We wished to survive."

Her face may have been damp from the river, but the glisten in her eyes was fresh.

"Please."

MJ swallowed, not letting herself look at Samedi's face.

"Set us free."

The tears crashed down her cheeks, and MJ hated how badly she wanted to just look away. If this woman was apologising, it meant she'd been involved with the ancestors who'd been 'team possession and abuse of the living,' and she deserved to suffer for that, but...

MJ had finally learnt how to be channelled without feeling pain.

She'd burst into tears at the reality of being hugged again.

"I did not know!"

"Is she lying?" MJ asked The Lwa, "Surely you can tell."

"Her name is Vivienne Dartois," He answered, "She was burnt alive by the church."

MJ's undead breath hitched.

"And," He pressed his thumb into her forehead, a scream of terror pulled from her lips, "She will tell us her sins – "

"Stop it," MJ yanked him back, "Don't – "

"I could not let her take you," The woman finally shoved to her feet, a burning mark on her forehead, "Any of you!"

MJ's grip on Samedi's arm was firm, the material of his shirt almost addictive.

"We were trying to save you!"

"From who?"

"The destruction!"

"Por dios," MJ forced herself to let go of the man, "Could you be any vaguer?"

"It killed, and it killed, and – "

"But," MJ stepped closer, "What is it?"

"How am I to know?"

"If you were so bent out of shape over it," She tried not to sound too rude, "You'd think you might've asked a few questions."

"You do not have time for questions when lives are at stake."

"The spirits cost the living their lives," MJ reminded her.

"And we are sorry!" The woman marched straight at her, grabbing MJ's hand, "We accept our punishment."

Her grip was white knuckle tight, letting MJ feel the ice under her skin, pressing the heat from her own body into her cheek like it was all she craved.

"Now, let us go."

MJ's second hand was yanked up, one on Vivienne's cheek, sweet release seeming to radiate through her body thanks to it, nuzzling tighter, and tighter, like a child desperately sucking a lollipop, the left hand placed on her shoulder, then up again.

"You wish to face it alone, then so be it, but –" Vivienne wrapped MJ's fingers around her neck, "Please."

What was MJ meant to do in this situation?

Who wrapped someone's hand around their neck?

...Well –

Not the time!

Kol's fingers were not gracing down her neck as he begged for a taste – despite the fact he knew damn well he never needed to actually beg, this was some random spirit!

"Take it away."

MJ stared into the woman's broken eyes, hearing the way her voice cracked with each request, and seeing her features twitch in agony as she tried to make MJ understand. But she didn't even understand herself. This ghost was from eras past, and she didn't even fully understand what the spirits had been fighting so hard against, but...she was apologising?

She was begging to escape this world of nothingness.

Even with the expanding landscape, MJ was still the only one allowed to walk freely, and after the torture of being alone?

MJ breathed out, tightening her grip on the woman's throat.

"Te Ale Aves Irse Gelo."

Getting used to her magic was a bit of a trip.

"Te Ale Aves Irse Gelo."

For so long, nothing had worked, then everything had worked, as long as she was siphoning a living source, and now, this world was hers. It was built out of her magic, meaning her inability to use it prior probably came from her fractured soul. One thing she could thank Cade for restoring, or The Bennett Line?

The line had come together, to help Bonnie, through her.

MJ had felt the power of their entire family; every branch, and crevasse, and life, and it's place in peace, and she'd gifted that feeling to spirits before...

"Te Ale Aves Irse Gelo."

Maybe this woman didn't deserve it, but...

"Te Ale Aves Irse Gelo."

Her fingers snapped together, cutting through flesh and bone, as the spirit dried into nothing, vanishing into the non-existence breeze, as that flowery scent reminded MJ that she was getting closer. She was getting stronger. She could figure it out, and find her way home, and prove to Kol she never meant to put him through this hell.

"What was that again?" Samedi glowered, "You were punished for playing God?"

"As a human."

"And what are you now?"

"I wish I knew."

It was just the two of them, once more.

"I..."

"You could stay here," He stepped closer, "You could claim your child's fate as your own."

"My child will never know this place."

"They will have to."

"Even if they control it," MJ shook her head, "They will never inhabit it."

He didn't look convinced.

"I'll find a way for them to do it from the realm of the living," She promised the abyss, "There has to be a way to do it from that side, and not just from a Pethane coma, or some weird in between state, but as a living, breathing, person."

They were both just looking at the river.

MJ had half-convinced herself the faces she'd seen in its current were a hallucination from the loneliness, her over-active imagination too caught up in the Greek Myths and Lwa interactions. But now, someone had swum free.

"She didn't know what she was fighting for," He spoke her thoughts, "Or who she was fighting against."

"But there are spirits here who will," MJ's lips were a thin line, "Cade said they were watching."

She'd deliberately not been engaging with it though.

Why would she?

The spirits had shred her soul into pieces because she'd wanted them to stop abusing the living, she'd told herself they deserved to be trapped, watching her find a way out.

"Do you know?"

"Hm?"

"The light," MJ didn't get why he'd play dumb, "The power."

"I've seen its damage."

"But do you know what brought it here?"

"Why do you assume it was brought?" His fingers turned to bone before her eyes, "I was brought here."

All The Lwa had been.

"I cannot answer your questions," He reminded her, "My eyes were not on this soil to see its origins."

MJ pursed her lips.

"But," His hands gestured out, "Perhaps there is someone who was."

The spirit had been freed by their attempt to summon Brigitte.

"Until your life is returned to you, this is your realm to wield."

"What happens if I summon another spirit," She pointed out, "And it's all a trap to reignite the old ancestral realm back into this one?"

How many times can you bend a piece of plastic before it simply snaps open?

If they were in the walls, and MJ pulled them out, surely, she was making breaks?

She'd seen this happen with The Other Side.

"What's the worse they can do to you?" He reminded her, "Kill you?"

MJ snorted.

"Your relationship with power amuses me."

"Me too, honestly," She sighed.

MJ wasn't sure she was ready to try summoning another spirit just yet, not until she understood how she'd done it, or what she was doing with it. She...She was finally able to slightly control things, and if she was going to risk talking to the ones with answers, she needed complete control.

She'd gifted that woman an escape...

She'd looked into her eyes, decided her regret and fear was real, and then she'd let her go.

"Find The Nwa," She needed to think, "So we can actually try and piece everything together."

Cade may have fixed the shredding, but MJ's essence was still divided, who knows where.

"I'll see what I can do from here."

"It's always a pleasure," He bowed dramatically low, picking up his top hat through the gesture, "Until next time."

His eyes were always the last thing to go, reminding MJ that he might not always be gone, he might've just shrouded himself to watch what she did when she thought she was alone. Except, now, she had pretty firm confirmation she was never alone. She couldn't just see anyone, or speak to anyone, but the spirits she'd burnt down had been melted into the walls of her realm, and they were screaming.

She closed her eyes, and stepped away, feeling the cool air of a dungeon take over her skin.

How the hell was Klaus's cell more comforting than a personalised grove of power?

~***~

"They made a choice," Cami called out when Hayley returned to the living room, instantly pouring a glass of bourbon, "One way of putting it."

"Everything's a choice," Hayley defended, "Freya thought she was making the best one, and it killed Lucien. We know it was a dumb one too, but..."

Hope was tucked into her bed, a little machine projecting stars onto her ceiling as she'd curled into her mother's side, listening to a story until she'd fallen asleep.

"Rather say 'made a choice' than 'they condemned your best friend so the spirits ripped her into a million pieces.'"

Silence.

Finn looked between the two women, awkwardly holding a bin bag, collecting pieces of ripped wrapping paper up from the floor, while straightening up the cards on the coffee table. There were only a few, but a few was more than none, and, it was honestly more than Hayley had expected to see.

Sam had sent two envelopes, one from him, with a small gift, the other, also from him, but with altered handwriting to make it appear like someone else, addressed 'from The Crescent Wolves.' Then, Whit's card had come with a present, apologising for not being able to make it until the next morning. He'd arrive, and Hayley honestly couldn't wait for it, knowing it would automatically make everything less tense.

Lastly, Cami had found one of Klaus's old sketches, having it made into a card and then written 'from Klaus,' meaning it had been placed in the centre of the table.

"Under a year," Cami breathed out, "We could get Klaus out today."

"Could we?" Hayley challenged, "We know where he is, and we know there's a spell keeping him there, but we don't actually know how to break it."

"I'm nearly there with the translations," Finn put his bin bag down, "All of them; Mira gave us a way to break Rebekah's curse, how to free Niklaus, and how to cure Marcel's bite."

"Which is insane of her," Cami sipped wine, "Just because we have a cure, doesn't mean we need to use it."

"Rebekah would," Hayley reminded them, "If we wake her, she'll wake Elijah."

"We don't know that."

Hayley gave Cami a very pointed look, "We bring Klaus here, he'll want Elijah too."

It was the dilemma she'd spent the past few years living in.

"I don't want to do it – "

"Yes, you do," Cami called out, "We all know you don't blame Elijah."

"You have no clue how I feel about it!" Hayley let her voice jump, "How I feel, and what I need to focus on our two very different things."

Cami let her shoulders slump, accepting that point.

"Freya did it," Hayley reminded them of the facts, "She made the choice – yeah, Elijah should've stopped her, and I could barely look at him after it happened, but – "

"There's a 'but' in that sentence?"

"Cami."

The former therapist forced herself to stop; as mad as she was, she literally had a degree's worth of information to remind her there were better ways to have this conversation.

"Klaus and I knew."

Something Cami did somewhat know.

"We knew Freya was thinking about it," Hayley sunk into the sofa, "And we didn't phone anyone, because we thought we'd talked her out of it, and so if we're blaming bystanders and enablers, it's on me too."

The entire house was covered in Hope's sketches, and stories, and toys. If she wasn't drawing little stick figure versions of MJ and her together, she was pouring tea for two or asking for little blue waistcoats to put on her teddies – a waistcoat they'd all seen MJ's spirit wearing.

"And," She let herself rant, "If I was Kol, we'd all be dead."

She'd murdered all the witches and the wolves who'd tried to hurt Hope.

"No matter what, we're saving Klaus," She tried to focus, "And if we can get Kol on board with that, then great, but if I was Kol, I'd leave him to rot, so I'd quite like Elijah around to at least hold him off for a few minutes. Be the bigger problem, a distraction, whatever you wanna call it."

Cami stared at her drink.

Saving Klaus had been a concept for so long, but now it was a reality? A thing they could actually achieve once Finn had made his way through MJ's puzzle pieces of twisted help.

Technically, Cami's early rephrasing wasn't wrong. The spirits had killed MJ. She'd died to save the city. Making it about Freya and Elijah almost took away from the incredibly powerful sacrifice she'd taken to free the living witches from possession. It was just...

"If you wish to make amends," Finn spoke, "Offering him a way to MJ is the obvious solution."

Hayley's expression fell flat.

"Hope is the best course forward."

"Or," Cami tried to play middle ground, "We need to actually talk to Kol."

Hayley's frown grew.

"He's left you alone," She pointed out, "Mikaelson habits say both of us should be dead for association. Yet, out of everyone hunting you down?"

Hayley hadn't had a single incident with him.

"MJ doesn't want war," Finn reminded them, "She gave us our solutions so that she and Kol could move on with their lives."

"We bring everyone back," Hayley spoke slowly, "And we get them all in a room together."

"Kol's humanity will come back from pure rage," Cami mused.

"And we can show him that we're sorry," Hayley rubbed her eyes, "That we might have a way to save her."

"You sure?" Cami was cautious, "Hope..."

The one thing the pair could agree on surrounding the situation?

"We're not using her," Hayley agreed, "But if she can see her, there's something in that."

It would be stupid to deny that.

"And Freya's a first born Mikaelson – if Hope has the power, she will to."

"She will want to mend the bridges," Finn decided, "She won't want the family at war either."

Cami didn't look convinced, "Our plan?"

"I will finish decoding Mira's spells," He started.

"I'll find the last Malraux," Hayley continued, "Now we have an actual identity to look for."

"And I'll get Kol back to the city," Cami tried, "So we can talk to him."

"Worst comes worst," Finn pulled a face, "We simply trick him."

"You think you can?"

"I think, if our family is all on two-feet, and in the same place, he doesn't actually have enough hands to kill us all at once," He reasoned, "Meaning we can temporarily lock him in somewhere until he's willing to hear us out."

Cami bit her lip, "The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because it'll get his switch back on."

"And with it, his tether to Mira should kick in," Finn agreed, "He'll be mad, but it will help him."

"And then we get MJ back," Hayley needed to finish on that point for her peace of mind, "None of us actually wanted her to get hurt."

Cami curled her lip in, trying to nod.

a/n: Next chapter and we begin TOS4!!!!!! Kol's reaction might felt a bit too small to the voicemail but that's because there's more of it to come / one scene would never cover all of it x

Hope you enjoyed, remember to comment and vote <3
- Bea