[ it takes hope a full day to process the hurt and the pain she'd felt when her dad had, once again, gone to threats rather than simply asked her. she'd thought that, after their reunion, he'd just know he could come to her... with anything.
i should have known better, she thinks, and not in any kind of terrible, sarcastic way. i should have known better because he's a mikaelson and we lead with temper and thoughtlessness and our heart.
the urge to protect the ones they care about has led hope to more than one consequence in the city that her dad wouldn't want to know about, but she's resolved to tell him anyway. he has to know the hard parts to understand the reasons why she hasn't been as forthcoming as she might have been. it's not his fault, but it's not hers, either. and she doesn't want to spend what time they might have together fighting.
so, she shows up at his assigned apartment door and knocks. ]
( it has only been the wanting and the waiting that has sustained him. the worry for the pain in his daughter's silence and the constant reliving of their conversation have frayed at his edges, but the imperative to be here when she needs him; when she's ready...
it has kept him put, and sober enough, if not entirely sane. the thought of tearing open a few vulnerable, unknown necks has occurred to him, as has stalking to her residence to see her himself. instead, he has nursed a few drinks, painted and destroyed a few canvases, and is quite close to reconsidering the idea of giving hope space.
in fact, he has just showered, dressed, and decided to head out for the day, perhaps ending it at subversion. or her front door.
should he give her space? he wonders. what would hayley do?
anticipation overtakes him when he hears her steps and the knock at the door. he would know her presence anywhere. the tight ball of anxiety in his heart begins to unfurl, leaving space for relief. he is at the door in no time at all, pulling it open.
his eyes round at the sight of her. his lips part, wordlessly for a moment. klaus exhales, attempting to regulate himself. he is her father, and she deserves that he act like one. his voice is gentle, even. ) Come in. ( he steps aside. ) Let's talk.
[ wordlessly, hope steps inside his apartment and takes a breath she doesn't really need. ]
Okay.
[ it's been a really long time since she's been in the up provided housing and... she hasn't missed it. the house(s) she has fit her far more, but even so, she can't help a quiet quip to break the ice. ]
( he's grateful for the quip. quite frankly, it's some small measure of comfort that perhaps their tiff can be forgiven. ) Duplicity lacks the charm of New Orleans, it's true. ( he misses much about home, and these empty, characterless set of rooms are hardly to his taste as well. a part of klaus, in all his viciousness and grieving, felt it didn't matter, prior to realizing hope was here. but if his daughter is to visit him.
if this is to be a home for them both...
his amusement filters away. he shifts on his feet. ) I do trust you, Hope. ( and despite his threats and thoughts: ) And I wasn't going to hurt him.
[ there's a sigh there, a heavy breath she doesn't need, and she shakes her head before she turns to look at him. the expression on her face says it all: she's so disappointed. ]
That's not the point. [ she folds her arms across her chest, thinks about it, then uncrosses them, and lets them hang, before tucking them into her back pockets. ] The point is, you started with judgments. With yelling. You assumed the worst — that I was keeping a secret from you — instead of assuming the best. That I was so excited to see you that something slipped my mind.
( there is a part of him that did believe she lied. that she obfuscated, avoided, kept it from him. his gaze is open, eyes stinging—because she is right. that is what anyone would do: anyone who knows him and his love. but he realized, after it all... not his daughter. not hope. who has only ever sought him out even at his worst.
his own fear, his rage, his loss of everything he has ever known and that iron fist of power that has comforted him in the unknown, blinded him. even her, his little girl, the same and yet different, older...
emotion chokes him. he finds words in a stilted outpouring. ) You're my daughter. And the thought of you, here... ( at the whims of this city. grown and independent and taking care of herself. he has tried to be understanding, and he will continue to do so, to accept this, for her. but this is honest, too: it weighs on him. )
I know there are things I do not know, and plenty more I do not wish to know... ( his hand lifts to his head. those pictures he cannot burn from his mind's eye are only the start. )
I reacted. Poorly. Because I understand. If you had kept it from me.
[ the thing is, as soon as he says it, as soon as he puts his hand to his head, hope knows what it is he doesn't want to be thinking about and the tiniest of smiles appears on her face. ]
I don't want to keep it from you. [ her hands drop again. ] Not like. Like, I don't want to share the nitty gritty, but I also don't want to have to lie. I don't want to have to worry if you're going to decapitate someone by ripping their entire spine out with their head.
I do trust you. ( the repeated words are soft. he wants — he needs — to trust himself. he needs an inner compass that he may follow, the one he had been attempting to build: after the loss of hayley, of elijah... of all who had guided him through the very worst of himself.
he has always been fierce, but rarely brave. looking at hope now, he feels the contradictory mixture of terror and courage that has always warred within him, when it comes to being worthy of being her father. he must ensure that bravery, that love, wins.
he licks his lips and worries them with his teeth. he promised her, and immediately gave her reason for concern. he means the words now as much as he did then, and yet. for all her has failed her, what are words? what are promises? )
I want to know. ( the lightest and most painful of smiles also flickers on his lips. ) Perhaps without photographic evidence.
But being with you here is the most important thing to me. I will not err.
[ she takes a hesitant step, then a stronger one, and then puts herself into his arms because this is her dad, and she's still his littlest wolf. that's all that matters — he's here, she's here, and they can make it work. ]
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[ it takes hope a full day to process the hurt and the pain she'd felt when her dad had, once again, gone to threats rather than simply asked her. she'd thought that, after their reunion, he'd just know he could come to her... with anything.
i should have known better, she thinks, and not in any kind of terrible, sarcastic way. i should have known better because he's a mikaelson and we lead with temper and thoughtlessness and our heart.
the urge to protect the ones they care about has led hope to more than one consequence in the city that her dad wouldn't want to know about, but she's resolved to tell him anyway. he has to know the hard parts to understand the reasons why she hasn't been as forthcoming as she might have been. it's not his fault, but it's not hers, either. and she doesn't want to spend what time they might have together fighting.
so, she shows up at his assigned apartment door and knocks. ]
no subject
it has kept him put, and sober enough, if not entirely sane. the thought of tearing open a few vulnerable, unknown necks has occurred to him, as has stalking to her residence to see her himself. instead, he has nursed a few drinks, painted and destroyed a few canvases, and is quite close to reconsidering the idea of giving hope space.
in fact, he has just showered, dressed, and decided to head out for the day, perhaps ending it at subversion. or her front door.
should he give her space? he wonders. what would hayley do?
anticipation overtakes him when he hears her steps and the knock at the door. he would know her presence anywhere. the tight ball of anxiety in his heart begins to unfurl, leaving space for relief. he is at the door in no time at all, pulling it open.
his eyes round at the sight of her. his lips part, wordlessly for a moment. klaus exhales, attempting to regulate himself. he is her father, and she deserves that he act like one. his voice is gentle, even. ) Come in. ( he steps aside. ) Let's talk.
no subject
Okay.
[ it's been a really long time since she's been in the up provided housing and... she hasn't missed it. the house(s) she has fit her far more, but even so, she can't help a quiet quip to break the ice. ]
You should really do some decorating.
no subject
if this is to be a home for them both...
his amusement filters away. he shifts on his feet. ) I do trust you, Hope. ( and despite his threats and thoughts: ) And I wasn't going to hurt him.
no subject
That's not the point. [ she folds her arms across her chest, thinks about it, then uncrosses them, and lets them hang, before tucking them into her back pockets. ] The point is, you started with judgments. With yelling. You assumed the worst — that I was keeping a secret from you — instead of assuming the best. That I was so excited to see you that something slipped my mind.
no subject
his own fear, his rage, his loss of everything he has ever known and that iron fist of power that has comforted him in the unknown, blinded him. even her, his little girl, the same and yet different, older...
emotion chokes him. he finds words in a stilted outpouring. ) You're my daughter. And the thought of you, here... ( at the whims of this city. grown and independent and taking care of herself. he has tried to be understanding, and he will continue to do so, to accept this, for her. but this is honest, too: it weighs on him. )
I know there are things I do not know, and plenty more I do not wish to know... ( his hand lifts to his head. those pictures he cannot burn from his mind's eye are only the start. )
I reacted. Poorly. Because I understand. If you had kept it from me.
no subject
I don't want to keep it from you. [ her hands drop again. ] Not like. Like, I don't want to share the nitty gritty, but I also don't want to have to lie. I don't want to have to worry if you're going to decapitate someone by ripping their entire spine out with their head.
[ she looks at him, her mouth set in a pout. ]
I want you to trust me.
no subject
he has always been fierce, but rarely brave. looking at hope now, he feels the contradictory mixture of terror and courage that has always warred within him, when it comes to being worthy of being her father. he must ensure that bravery, that love, wins.
he licks his lips and worries them with his teeth. he promised her, and immediately gave her reason for concern. he means the words now as much as he did then, and yet. for all her has failed her, what are words? what are promises? )
I want to know. ( the lightest and most painful of smiles also flickers on his lips. ) Perhaps without photographic evidence.
But being with you here is the most important thing to me. I will not err.
no subject
[ she takes a hesitant step, then a stronger one, and then puts herself into his arms because this is her dad, and she's still his littlest wolf. that's all that matters — he's here, she's here, and they can make it work. ]