Chapter 9

                                    

                                          
Hope was a beautiful thing.
Both the baby girl and the sensation she had as she drove to Fort Valley, Georgia, to find the Malivore pit. 
Well, Marcel was the one driving.
"Why would he do that?" she asked, cradling the stillborn in her arms sadly. "Why would he give me what I need?"
"He can't compel you," said Marcel. "He already told me that as soon as we get back, he's wiping all this from my mind so I think the baby actually died. I agreed to it. For you, he needs a stronger motivation. Thing is, I'm pretty sure Hayley, Elijah, and probably even Rebekah vouched heavily for you. Will Klaus probably be watching you like a hawk and making you do all sorts of things with this new 'loyalty' to make you wish you never stepped foot in New Orleans? Probably. But I think that right now, after everything, as long as he can make sure his daughter is safe... then that's that. The fact that your father wanted Hope dead and the witches felt the same way means they both need to be convinced. Even if this grants you your freedom it also saves his daughter from being hunted."
"And maybe," she realized, "he's hoping Malivore will go back on his promise and consume me, or that I'll have to go into the pit, or that if he doesn't believe me he'll kill me and Malivore won't know where to find Hope either way so he'll be at a loss..."
"Could be that, too."
"So this isn't him being kind, it's him trying to cover up his tracks and potentially throw me in a dangerous situation. That is a lot more comforting than the idea that he was being sweet despite what brought me into New Orleans." She tilted her head, "Why did you stop him from hurting me?"
He shrugged. "I didn't think you deserved it."
"But I can't die, you can. You almost did. You were bitten and he'd just healed you. He could have bitten you again or murdered you, all for someone who will spring back up in two seconds. I-I appreciate the sentiment, I do, but I can't help but feel guilty that you were trying to protect me knowing you were at more risk than I was."
"It's what friends do, Andra. Besides, in that moment I wasn't thinking that you couldn't die, I was thinking that he was going to torture you and that you'd already proved you hadn't earned that. Yeah, you omitted the truth, but who would it have helped if you walked up to him and said it outright when you met him? I doubt you'd have been close enough to find out about the Guerreras or stop me from what I wanted to do and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to be there when we saved Hope. I don't know if I would have been there. Things happened the way they did for a reason, even Klaus knows that, and right now everything is fine for the most part. Hope is alive and as soon as the Originals handle the lingering problem of their mother's influence on the witches, she'll be able to come home."
They exited the car as they reached Triad, parking near the main gate. Andra stepped out to swipe a small card against the reader at the gate, getting them inside. 
"Miss Clarke," said the woman at the front reception desk. "Welcome back. We've been expecting you."
"You know, definitely not a job I'd want to take again," said Andra with a cheeky smile. "But it's done. Classified mission Mali-Tri, status report, complete. I need time alone in the pit room."
"Of course, Miss Clarke, go right ahead. He can stay here."
"No," she grabbed Marcel's arm, "he has to come with me."
Marcel followed her through several hallways into a large room, the floor almost entirely covered in a sea of black tar. "This is it? This is your dad?"
"Yep," she said. "Malivore, Marcel. Marcel, Malivore. He can't respond, but..." she glanced up at a small window. "Privacy requested."
The light inside turned off.