CHAPTER TEN
FAMILY TIES

"Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart."

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     Henrik didn't hold a single conversation with Klaus or Elijah for two weeks.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Klaus and Elijah's part. They tried tirelessly to rope Henrik into conversation, into plotting schemes, into family talks. Henrik ignored every single one of their attempts. At first, Freya had been displeased by the behavior, had even attempted to play mediator. She even went so far as to approach Henrik and beg him to stop being so unreasonable and told him that whatever they were fighting about, she was sure they could work through it. She stopped playing mediator when he told her what they had done. Freya hadn't even known they had kept Henrik in the dark, which made sense. When he asked her what exactly had happened with Kol, she had admitted that she had just woken from a century of sleep when Kol died again, and that she had barely known him.

The only deaths she had been there for had been Finn, Esther, and then Mikael, in that order. Henrik had almost had a stroke. He hadn't known Mikael was resurrected, either. Finn's soul was currently locked inside Freya's pendant, Freya had admitted to murdering Esther herself—Henrik had felt a shocking amount of excitement that one of his siblings loathed their mother as much as he did—and then told him how Klaus had killed Mikael in front of her. She had grown solemn at the information, so Henrik hadn't said anything rude or insensitive.

The only child Mikael had ever cherished, it seemed, had been Freya. He had shown soft moments toward Henrik as well, but that changed quickly when Henrik started idolizing Klaus as an older sibling. He tried not to think about it.

The compound was tense because of Henrik's silent treatment, so he either found himself watching Hope, hanging out with Davina, Jackson, or Marcel, or talking spells and stories with Freya. He was still keeping his sister at arm's length, but he was trying, and she was just happy he would spend time with her at all. That day, however, Freya wasn't free. She had things to do, and since Hayley and Jackson had whisked Hope away to the bayou for a peaceful weekend, Henrik decided to take a walk instead.

It wasn't long before Francis appeared beside him.

Francis had been busy as well. Either he was slacking on guard duty, or Tristan was pulling him away more and more because he was in need of Francis's talents. It made Henrik think something else was going on. Each time he asked, Francis openly admitted that Tristan was plotting, but he hadn't let slip anything useful yet. Henrik had the feeling Francis would tell him if something was going to happen. He hadn't ceased feeling guilty about Rebekah since she was captured by the Strix.

He was the same way now.

"I know you're giving the silent treatment to your brothers, but is it truly necessary to do it to me?" he asked as he fell into step beside him. Henrik bit back a smile, but didn't respond. He wasn't particularly angry with Francis, not really. The vampire barely knew him; technically, he didn't owe Henrik a damn thing. Still, making him squirm was amusing to him. "Would it help if I apologized? For Rebekah?"

"I don't want an apology, Francis," Henrik said with a roll of his eyes. "Not from someone I barely know. It means nothing. What I want is my sister safe."

"She is safe. You know she's safe." When Henrik stopped and shot Francis a questioning look, he offered a rather gentle smile. Henrik was thrown off by it. "She's the originator of Aurora's bloodline, darling. Neither Tristan, Lucien, or Aurora would risk harming her in a way that could kill her. She's safe, you just need to find her."

"You still don't know where she is?" Henrik asked, taking a small step forward. Francis's eyes widened, and he seemed to stumble a bit in his haste to get away from Henrik.

"I would really appreciate," Francis said slowly, "if you didn't use your magic on me again. I really...don't like it." Henrik cocked his head to the side, then blinked when he realized Francis actually seemed wary. His eyebrows rose. Henrik backed away from him almost immediately, frowning when Francis released a relieved sigh.

"I'm sorry," Henrik said. Unlike his siblings, he had no problem apologizing for something if he knew he was wrong and felt guilty about it. It was a whole other problem, however, when he thought he was right. "I don't—I don't usually drag people around against their will like that. I wasn't thinking about anything except Rebekah and, well—" Feeling uncomfortable, Henrik stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked away, rocking back once on his heels. "I'm sorry," he repeated, this time his voice no more than a mumble. He could feel Francis's eyes on him. There was a beat of silence, and then Francis was letting out a low chuckle.

"So you can apologize but I can't?" He shook his head and clicked his tongue. Henrik immediately turned away from him, rolling his eyes and walking away. Francis's chuckle turned into an outright laugh once he realized Henrik was heading back toward his home. To the only place Francis couldn't annoy him. "Might want to work on that hypocrisy, darling!"

Henrik turned his head, still walking as he called back, "Don't call me darling!"

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Klaus was in Henrik's room.

Henrik had walked in without noticing him at first, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and throwing it on his bed. He was going to grab a book and just read for the rest of the day when he noticed his brother sitting at the small table set by the bookshelf, flipping through Henrik's grimoire casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A smirk formed on Klaus's face when Henrik charged forward and slammed the grimoire shut, yanking it out of Klaus's reach and hugging it protectively against his chest. He glared mutely at Klaus as his brother chuckled and brought his drink to his lips.

"Well," Klaus drawled, "that seemed to get your attention." He finished his drink and set the empty glass on the table, twisting it around his finger. He glanced up at Henrik as he slouched down the chair, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "This is getting ridiculous. We live under the same roof. You can't avoid us forever." Henrik just stared at him. Klaus sighed and rolled his eyes. "I swear, you are the reason I drink," he grumbled as he climbed to his feet and went to pour himself a drink, using Henrik's liquor to do it. Henrik used that opportunity to tuck his grimoire away, sliding it back on his bookshelf.

"So!" Klaus said once he had a fresh drink in hand. "Have you calmed down enough to have a civil conversation yet?" Henrik gritted his teeth together. Knowing Klaus wouldn't leave him alone until he got Henrik to say something, he sighed and pushed himself away from the bookshelf.

"I'm being perfectly fucking civil," he said. Klaus gave him a droll stare.

"Clearly," he said flatly, downing his drink in one go. Maybe he'd get so drunk that he'd pass out and leave Henrik alone. Henrik's temper flared, and he glared so hard at Klaus that his brother actually paused, staring at him with a startled expression. He seriously thought Henrik had calmed down after two weeks. It almost made Henrik laugh.

"How would you have felt?" Henrik asked quietly, stepping around the table to get closer to Klaus. "How would you have felt if it had been Elijah who stumbled upon me all those years ago, new body an all, fresh from the afterlife, and not you? How would have you have felt if everyone—Elijah, Bekah, Kol, Finn—had known their dear brother was back except for you?" Klaus was completely silent. Henrik drummed his fingertips against the table. "You would be angry. More than angry. At least I'd hope you would be." Klaus finally raised his head to meet Henrik's gaze. His eyes were shining, like he was fighting back tears. The moment Klaus had seen Henrik inside their home, still clutching their mother's heart in his hand, was something neither really liked to remember. Klaus had always felt ashamed for doing something so horrible in front of Henrik, and Henrik's first few days back to life had been a blur of confusion and pain as his body adjusted.

Henrik hadn't felt anything emotionally, of course. Even when Klaus had broken down into tears and hugged him, even when his siblings gathered around him and cried and asked how it was possible, he hadn't felt a thing. That emptiness would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. He didn't bring that time up often, but he had to now, if only to prove a point. To make Klaus understand.

"Of course I would be angry," Klaus whispered after a moment. "I would be furious. I would make it so that everyone in the world could feel my rage. But that is completely different." Henrik heaved an angry, exasperated sigh and opened his mouth to argue, but Klaus hurried on. "Kol had already been mourned by the time he was brought back, and we mourned him again. But you—you had just died, Henrik. We were still mourning you, we were still expecting to see you running around outside with your friends. I can't count the amount of times one of us turned to tell you something in that month you were gone, just to see that you were no longer there." Henrik had completely forgotten whatever he was going to say. "The situation surrounding you was entirely different. Kol had a thousand years, and Kol still has a chance of being brought back somehow. You were only fourteen and Ayana said you were gone." Henrik averted his gaze. He couldn't look at Klaus anymore. "So yes, Henrik, I'd be angry. I understand why you're upset. If anything, I'd feel worse, because what happened to you was my fault. But what happened with Kol wasn't something we planned and Esther was a huge threat at the time, so forgive me, little brother, for not taking your feelings into account—"

"What?" Henrik whispered. His head had shot up the second he heard certain words leave Klaus's mouth. Klaus stopped and frowned at him. He probably hadn't even realized what he had said. "Do you—do you really blame yourself for what happened to me?" Just like that, any emotion on Klaus's face disappeared. It was a cold mask now. He had revealed more than he meant to, more than he ever planned to. Henrik stared at him, eyes wide.

"It's in the past," Klaus said, making it clear the subject wasn't up for discussion. Henrik was still staring at him. "What matters now is that you understand why we did what we did so we can move on. We do have a prophecy to think about, you know, and the last thing we need is you turning on us—"

"You can't do that," Henrik whispered. Usually Klaus saying something like that—insinuating he was the family part of the prophecy that would take all of them down—would have made him angry, but he was too shell-shocked. "You can't just bring up something like that and then just ignore me when I ask about it." Klaus simply stared at him. Henrik opened his mouth, closed it, and then whispered slowly, "Nik, I don't blame you. I never have."

"It was my idea to watch the wolves—"

"I went with you," Henrik whispered. "You didn't force me to go."

Klaus was agitated now, shaking his head and clenching his fists at his sides. Eventually, he turned and started pacing back and forth across the room. "I'm the big brother," he was saying through clenched teeth. "I should have known better. I should have protected you."

"There was nothing you could have done," Henrik argued, voice rising from the whisper. "It was dark and we got separated. It was my time to go, Nik." Klaus didn't respond. Henrik still stared at him in disbelief. "Out of all things to feel guilty for, that's what's been haunting you all this time? That I died that night?" Klaus didn't respond again. With a sad sigh, Henrik repeated, "Nik, I don't blame you."

"I find that hard to believe," Klaus scoffed.

"If I truly held that against you," Henrik said, voice hard, "do you really think we'd still have a relationship to mend at all?"

"Haven't you disowned me more times that I can count?" Klaus drawled. He still didn't sound like he believed Henrik's words.

"Yes," Henrik admitted. "But you should know by now that I never truly mean it." He and Klaus looked at each other for a moment, and then a smile curved Klaus's mouth.

"An odd day indeed," he drawled, "when you and I make a breakthrough before anyone else." Henrik started to smile, but it didn't make it very far. Eventually, he frowned and gave Klaus a hard look.

"I will never forgive you," he said bluntly. "I will never forgive you for keeping Kol from me." Klaus frowned at him, then let out a steady sigh and shrugged his shoulders. He was more upset over Henrik's words than he would ever admit.

"What's another atrocity," Klaus drawled as he poured himself another drink, "on an already long list of grievances?"

"Has Niklaus committed yet another atrocity while I was out?" Elijah drawled. They both whirled around to see Elijah leaning against the doorway. Just far enough inside the room that the soundproof barrier didn't work on him. Henrik scowled. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"I won't forgive you, either," Henrik said immediately, watching as Elijah paused and stared at him in bewilderment. He would have laughed if he hadn't been utterly serious. Klaus laughed for him.

"We were talking about Kol," Klaus explained quickly. Henrik watched as Elijah's expression smoothed out in understanding. He didn't try to convince Henrik to forgive him, or convince him to understand. He simply took it with grace and nodded in acceptance.

"Well, you're speaking to us again," Elijah said, hope sliding into his voice. "I take that as a sign of progress." Henrik didn't respond, just stared at Elijah with a frown. Elijah winced, as if his silence was causing him physical pain. "How can I fix this? How can we fix this?" Elijah shot a desperate look at Klaus, but Henrik didn't turn to look at him.

"That's the thing. You can't." Henrik sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "You didn't break something that can be replaced, you kept Kol's resurrection from me. You can't fix that, Elijah. I—" Henrik stopped and took a deep breath, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "I miss him." There was a beat of silence.

"We all miss him," Klaus said after a moment, sounding solemn. Henrik shot a glance his way, rolling his eyes when he noticed Klaus pouring himself another drink. "Rebekah was searching for a way to bring him back...before..." The air grew even more tense then, less solemn but angrier.

"God, Rebekah," Henrik groaned, turning away and raking his fingers through his hair. He started pacing. "If anything happens to her, I'm going to burn this entire city and everyone in it to the ground."

"Have you tried contacting Tristan?" Elijah asked. Henrik turned and shot him a look.

"He hasn't been answering my calls." Scowling, Henrik kicked at the leg of a chair. It barely moved. "I think he's avoiding me. Either he knows where Bekah is, or he doesn't and he's afraid of how I'll react. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Aurora is involved in this."

"Yes, about that—" Elijah started, rounding on Klaus with an accusing look. Henrik raised an eyebrow and turned toward Klaus as well.

"Right, you two are screwing again," Henrik said with an amused smile, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know, at least I had the decency to soundproof my room." Klaus scowled at him. "Does she know where Bekah is?"

"No," Klaus said lightly, twirling the alcohol around his glass, "but she did assure me Rebekah was perfectly safe. She stole her away from the Strix, so you were right about her being involved." Henrik grimaced.

"I don't like the thought of Bekah being in the hands of a lunatic," he grumbled.

"You two used to be such sweet friends," Klaus mused. Henrik shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I would never describe our relationship as friendly, Nik, and that was before she took my favorite sibling." He shot them both short glares. "I can't stand the rest of you."

"Maybe you should improve your relationship with Freya then," Elijah offered, sounding hopeful. Henrik gave him a flat look.

"There's hardly a relationship to improve," was what he chose to say, even though it could be argued that they were closer now, if only a little bit. He wasn't about to admit to them that he was trying. It was none of their business, and he was still angry and upset enough to be petty. Elijah opened his mouth to argue with him, but Henrik swiftly changed the subject. "Where is Kol buried?" Elijah and Klaus glanced at each other. Henrik glanced between the two of them. "Or where did he die?"

"We consecrated his body," Klaus explained. "His fake body, anyway. He died in Lafayette Cemetery."

Henrik sat down at his table and put his chin in his hands. "Tell me," he ordered. "Tell me everything."

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It was night when Henrik slipped into Lafayette Cemetery. The place was mostly empty, much to Henrik's relief. He didn't want anyone to ask what he was doing and he didn't fancy an audience. He just followed the directions Klaus had given him until he found himself in front of a crypt. With one last glance around, he pulled the gate open and stepped inside, wincing when the gate creaked. It was loud in the silence of the cemetery. Grimacing, he glanced around and was relieved when he saw candles already lining the place.

"Alright, Kol," he said, voicing his thoughts out loud. He was abnormally nervous, unable to stand still. "They said they consecrated you. I don't know if you're here right now, or if you're watching over Davina. I guess it doesn't really matter." Needing something to do, he pulled his lighter out of his pocket and started to slowly light all the candles around the crypt. He could have set them aflame with just a thought, but doing it by hand was calming his nerves. "I don't even know if you can hear me, but...I felt you. After you died the first time. I felt you watching me sometimes. I always wondered why you stopped. I guess I just assumed you moved on, or hoped you did." He was done with the candles, so he knelt in the middle of the floor and drew out his pocket knife.

"I don't know if they told you why I wasn't here," he said as he drew the sharp blade across his palm. He had done it so many times that the pain didn't even register in his brain anymore. "Maybe you were in on the whole let's-not-tell-Henrik thing. It seems like the kind of bullshit you'd pull. Or maybe they lied to you, too. I would have been there, though. I'm sorry I wasn't. I should have been." He dabbed his right middle finger in his blood and proceeded to draw a pentagram on the floor. The last touch was writing Kol's name in Scandinavian in the middle of the star. "Our dear brothers refused to tell me how, exactly, you died. They just said Finn hexed you and then you collapsed here. I want to know if that's true or not."

Henrik took a deep breath and pressed his cut palm in the center of the pentagram, right over Kol's name. For a moment, he felt and saw nothing. And then ice was sweeping through his veins and he was falling—falling down and down and down until he suddenly wasn't. He opened his eyes. The crypt wasn't empty anymore. Davina was there, kneeling on the floor surrounded by candles, casting a spell to ease Kol's pain. Klaus and Elijah were standing, but Rebekah was kneeling on the floor with Kol's head in her lap. Kol was coughing, blood bubbling out of his mouth. And then he heard Kol's voice, floating through the air as if it had been released from a speaker.

"All my life, all I ever wanted was for you lot to care about me."

And then Henrik was back, shivering from the cold, his left hand aching. He lifted his hand from the seal on the floor and slowly eased back until he was sitting down, and then he drew his knees up to his chest and pressed his forehead against his knees. A sob caught in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to stop the tears flowing from his eyes. It was while he was starting to calm down that he felt it—a presence a few feet beside him, a presence he had felt many times before. It just made his tears come back. He didn't know how long he sat there. Long enough for the presence to disappear. Long enough for his phone to start vibrating incessantly in his pocket, no doubt his siblings wondering why he wasn't home yet. He had told them he wouldn't be more than an hour. When he checked his phone, he saw that he had been gone for three.

He was about to force himself to his feet, despite the ache in his bones and the pounding in his head, when he heard the gate creak open. Henrik didn't know who he expected to see, but he certainly hadn't expected to see Francis. The vampire didn't enter the crypt; he just leaned against the gate, his hands casually in his pockets. He wasn't in a suit, rather just in jeans and a hoodie, probably to blend in better with the night life of New Orleans.

"Everything alright?" he asked, eyes going over all the lit candles around the crypt. Henrik blinked a few times, then turned his face away and dried his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. It didn't hide anything. Francis had clearly seen his red and puffy eyes, had clearly seen the tears drying on his cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" he asked once he had wiped most of the tears away.

"I wasn't following you," Francis said immediately, making Henrik raise an eyebrow. "I was walking by the cemetery and I heard you crying." Henrik didn't quite believe that, but he chose not to respond. Francis hesitated, then slowly stepped into the crypt and offered Henrik a hand. Henrik slowly took it and let Francis help him to his feet, dropping his hand once he was. He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck and glanced around the crypt, waving his hand to put all the candles out. The crypt descended into darkness.

"You lied to me," Francis said after a moment. The accusing tone in his voice reminded Henrik of two weeks before, when Francis had said Henrik liked lying when he thought it was a game. He cocked his head to the side.

"Did I?" Henrik asked. Francis hummed under his breath.

"You did." Francis waved his hand around to signify the cemetery they were in. "You said that vampires weren't welcome inside the cemetery, yet I walked right through the gates no problem." Henrik stared at him for a moment before he barked out a laugh. It was such a small thing that he couldn't help feeling amused.

"I said that vampires weren't welcome," he argued. "I didn't say you couldn't enter."

Francis crossed his arms over his chest. "You didn't correct me."

"No," Henrik said, voice light. "I didn't." There was a beat of silence, and then Henrik's smile was widening. "You really were following me, weren't you?" Francis scowled. After a moment, he let out a small huff.

"I promise I'm not a stalker," he said, sounding sheepish, his scowl disappearing. Henrik raised his eyebrows.

"That's debatable."

"Must I remind you that I was ordered to do this?" Francis asked, suddenly sounding impatient. Henrik stared, a bit startled. "I'd be killed if I didn't follow you around under the guise of guarding you. Not that you need guarding. If anything, I'd say people need to be protected from you." He grimaced and glanced away. "You're terrifying."

"You just walked in on me crying," Henrik said with a small laugh.

"Crying doesn't make someone less terrifying," Francis said. Henrik looked him over, thinking, before he slowly nodded.

"I can talk to Tristan," he said after a moment. "Get you off guard duty." Francis smiled.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "However tedious this job can be sometimes, I find I quite like it. It's better than being in the Strix headquarters." Henrik smiled.

"And here I thought you liked my dazzling personality," he said, circling him to leave the crypt. Francis's laughter followed him, and Henrik was struck with the urge to laugh with him. Francis had the kind of laughter that was contagious. Henrik's lips tugged up in a smile, but he bit it back as he pushed the gate open.

"Well," Francis drawled as he followed him, walking by his side through the cemetery. "Your dazzling personality has been the highlight of my time here."

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edited: 6.20.18