deercountry | out of the fire, into the frying pan

"People say someone's vain like it's something someone should be embarrassed about."

It's often used as an insult towards her. She's been called it many times as something derisive, but she knows Stefan doesn't mean it that way. Katherine likes the way she physically presents herself. While she may not have control over her face and who is identical to her, she can control how she looks.

"What's wrong with being confident? We could all use a little bit more of it, don't you think?"

"I didn't say vain like it was something you should be embarrassed about. It's a fact and that's all it is."

He shrugs a shoulder and tucks his hands into his pockets. He thinks he's been with her long enough to know that she's vain and to be fine with it.

"You don't think I know what you're like now? I do. You're allowed to be confident. There's nothing wrong with that."

And proud. Katherine hasn't had much to be proud of over the last five hundred years, but she's found what she can take some pride in. Her appearance, her shoe collection, and now apparently the life that she has built in Deerington.

Or Deer Country. Whatever place they happen to be in with a deer influence.

She still stays behind him even when they're able to exit the arena. Apparently, killing enough monsters grants on an exit pass—or maybe it's merely the fact that Katherine's thrown monsters three times her size across the dome as if they're made of feathers.

She does take a few steps closer to Stefan and pinches the back of his shirt. "You had dirt."

And some monster guts. Really gross.

Stefan stops when she grabs at the back of his shirt and then even waits to see if she's going to walk next to him. He looks back at her almost expectantly.

"Are you gonna keep walking behind me so you can clean up any dirt or are you going to walk beside me now?"

He wishes she could come up closer to him so he could see her but he knows he can't force that.

She still has an unused quip about his ass.

While Katherine would much prefer to be behind him just in case the Trench is a little wilder and unfriendlier than Deerington, she knows that there's really no reason to be walking behind him anymore. No other reason than the fact that it's born out of a small slip of fear.

So, Katherine comes to stand beside him. "You didn't like me bringing up the rear?"

"I like you bringing up the rear just fine but I like being able to see you more."

He smiles when she finally comes up to stand with him and he starts to reach for her hand but stops and brushes his fingers against her wrist. He doesn't stop walking yet.

"Can I?"

He wouldn't normally ask but they'd just been fighting and he's worried.

It's very reminiscent of how he used to speak to her in 1864, all shy towards the delicate girl who was secretly a monster in disguise. She does enjoy a shy Stefan when the situation calls for it.

With no hesitancy, she wraps her fingers around his. Tilting her head up and looking away, Katherine very much looks like the girl who doesn't like public displays of affection.

"For once your hand isn't cold."

His hands have never been that cold unless it suits her story.

"My hands aren't ever cold."

That was just one of those vampire myths. Stefan shakes his head but he feels more comfortable with her hand in his and that's when he starts walking again, blowing out a slow breath.

After a minute, he asks, "Are you okay?"

Because no matter the facade she presents, he knows there's a lot more going on underneath.

"There's blood in my hair and on my favourite pair of pants."

Which means that he's going to have to do the laundry a few times over to make sure that monster blood is completely out of the threads. Katherine will happily do the ironing after.

Looking straight ahead, she does know that he won't accept that as an answer. She wouldn't.

"Did you really mean what you said? That you believe that I will bite you and drain you just to get ahead?"

"No."

He hadn't meant that. Not in that way. He pauses and looks ahead, squinting before he shakes his head.

"I think if you had to survive and it was between you and me, you'd choose you. That's not a bad thing, either. I'm not chastising you. I just think survival is very ingrained in you."

Hell, he'd want her to choose herself if that was a choice she had to make.

In the dictionary, under the word "survivor", there's a picture of Katherine Pierce. It's a word she knows is now synonymous with her. Sometimes, she's sure those around her are tired of hearing her describe herself as such, but it's something else Katherine owns. No one can take that away from her.

It's been difficult to try and find a middle ground between running and standing still. The latter's a lot harder than she had ever planned for.

She's quiet for a moment.

"And would that lead you to believe that I don't love you?"

"No."

He shakes his head at her and looks over. No, he knows she loves him even if she doesn't always say it out loud. She shows him in other ways. He squeezes her hand and sighs.

"I would hope there's never a situation that leads you to have to make that decision, honestly. Because though I think you would choose yourself, I think it would be difficult for you."

And he doesn't want her to have to live with that.

After spending so long having everyone pick themselves or everyone other than her, Katherine has learned very quickly over the centuries that she is the only person who will ever look out for her own backside. It's a lesson she thinks she was beginning to learn long before she had ever turned into a vampire.

She doesn't have a group of protectors like her doppelgänger. She's always only had herself.

But picking herself doesn't always have to relate to her only picking one person. Picking herself these days often includes a dog and a cat and twelve cars.

"You said it, back there." She stands up a little taller and ensures not to look at him because: "It hurt my feelings."

It's a big admission for Katerina Petrova.

"I...did?"

He pauses because he doesn't remember that. He's not doubting her though because he knows that he hadn't been thinking all that clearly awhile ago. His mind had been consumed with wanting to fight and he knows that he could have said something without thinking.

He frowns and shakes his head. He thinks he does remember what she's talking about now.

"Katherine, I know you love me. I don't want you to have to choose between yourself and me. I'm sorry. I can honestly say that I didn't mean that. I was just...talking."

That's settled.

Katherine's grip on his hand does tighten, but it's not of her own purposeful doing. That's settled now. No need to talk about feelings. She's still Katherine Pierce who has absolutely none of them other than feeling rather arrogantly proud of her hair and shoe collection.

"We can forget about it now."

She scrunches up her face before she begins to slow her step. Looking down at her feet, her shoes look no different to how they had looked previously: black and expensive and very, very sharp.

"I need to stop. My shoe is breaking."

"Katherine, no. No, I don't want to forget about it."

He doesn't even know if she's accepted the apology or if she's still upset. It takes a lot for her to admit when she's been stung and he's not going to just let her brush it aside. So, when her grip tightens around his hand, he uses that to stay still, not let her walk.

"We can stop but we need to talk about this. You can't just dismiss it."

Even if she'd brought it up.

She takes this as her opportunity to duck down and begin to peel her heel off her foot. The heel itself is beginning to break. While Katherine can walk even on a broken boot, she doesn't do so when it's not necessary.

"It's not dismissing it when it's moving forward."

Or avoiding it completely. This is why Katherine doesn't do many things, like interpersonal relationships. It's a lot easier to remain invulnerable when no one knows she has vulnerabilities.

When she stands on one foot, she leans heavily on him as she observes her shoe. The heel has almost peeled itself off the base.

"And that's what I'm doing." She holds the toe of her shoe and angles the peeling heel towards him. "Rip it off."

"Katherine."

This doesn't feel like moving forward. It feels like she's just pushing it down and letting it go. If she's upset at him, she wants him to be upset. He doesn't want her to have to ignore it if she's genuinely upset.

"Ripping it off isn't something you need to do, you know. We can talk about it, figure it out. I don't want you to feel like you have to shove it aside. That's not fair to you."

If he's not going to rip her heel off her shoe, she'll just have to do it. Positioning it between her side and upper arm, she grips the toe of the boot as she easily peels off the heel. It's a good way to stall time.

She sighs quietly. "It hurt my feelings to think you think that of me." She turns to face him, her own face a mask. "I think I've proven myself more than enough in the past year that I care about you."

She's the one who has been there for him through thick and thin, not his so-called friends. The villain of the story has proven to be a better person than all of them combined.

"I know you care about me. I don't doubt it and I don't doubt you. I'm sorry."

He doesn't really know how to make up for something that he's already said. He doesn't know how to prove to her that he doesn't really think that. He swallows, looking down.

"I love you, Katherine, and I know you love me. I don't think that about you. I...don't know what to say. I shouldn't have said what I said. It's not the truth."

A part of him must believe it, but Katherine's not going to argue. If he doesn't believe it—and says as much—then she has to do her part and believe it, too. She knows she has changed, much to the detriment of her own safety if she was to truly dip into her own five centuries' worth of paranoia. All it takes is for someone who wants her head to use that against her.

She sighs, letting her shoulders slump. Sliding her heel back on her foot, she holds the broken part of her shoe in her hand.

"I just want to go home and have a nice bath."

"All right."

Stefan...still thinks there's something here that she's not talking about. He thinks that she's still upset and she's holding it back because she's Katherine Pierce and that's what she does.

He strokes a hand over his face and then nods.

"Okay, come on." Pushing right here and now isn't going to help anything so he decides to give in to what she wants and let her have her bath. "Let's go."

At least they're going to try and head home. Katherine's not entirely sure if their destination will be met—or if they'll get lost on their way walking home. Despite doing her best to try and navigate and commit all the streets to memory, it's still a very new city to be in.

Katherine begins to walk, hoping that Stefan will follow.

"Maybe you can join me if you can keep your hands to yourself."

"I'm sure I can do that."

He still feels a little weight on his shoulders with her confession but he does follow. He catches up to her quickly, falling into step with her and tucking his hands into his pockets.

"But there's always a chance I won't. Don't know if you want to take the risk."

Finally, he admits that he can't resist her. This is information that is as mind-blowing as the fact water is wet.

Katherine walks a little lopsidedly with one heel broken, but she likes to think that she makes it work. It's not the worst that she's looked nor the most broken that her shoes have ever been.

"I think I can handle a horny two-hundred-year-old."

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