Hello Dearies,
this is just a little Christmas present for all of you who have been so wonderfully supportive and helped me through what has undoubtedly been the worst year of my life. But there are so many things I am grateful for - my mom has escaped certain death earlier this year and only days ago underwent extensive surgery again, and she is already on the way to recovery. My personal little Christmas miracle!
The writing has helped me to somehow cope with 2013, but there was something even more important. Your reviews and PMs, and your incredible support of Dungeons, Sanctuaries and Game to War... all of that kept me afloat, and I just cannot thank you enough! :)
I wish all of you a wonderful Christmas and a fantastic, perfect New Year that will bring you happiness, joy, health and everything you want and deserve. :)
Please bear with me with this story, as I wrote it in the hospital between beeping machines and barking nurses (by the way, even the special Christmas meals at the hospital are atrocious! ;)), so I apologise for any mistakes I might have overlooked - I just wanted to get it out to you today! :) It is not a big story, only a little fluffy oneshot. After all - it's Christmas! :)
Lots of love and a veery big Christmas hug!
Sybille
P.S.: Read my lips - ONESHOT! ;))
The darkness had a velvety quality about it that seemed to wrap everything in a soft, shimmering blackness. Only very occasionally were a few scattered stars visible tonight, but there was something about it all that made Caroline think how she had not very often seen a night sky like this one. It gave her a strange feeling of belonging. Of being part of a universe whose endless vastness made her own problems and heartaches seem all but nonexistent compared to it.
And yet, she was unable to forget about all those big and small troubles that besieged her. There were moments when she felt that ever since becoming a vampire, her life was burning at both ends. On one hand, there was no chance in hell that she would ever want to go back to who she had been in her human days. She had secretly hoped that the memories of the insufferable girl she had once been would fade and dissipate over time, but they didn't. Whenever she remembered snippets of scenes from her human life, she all but cringed with embarrassment. Well, in that respect, her development had surely been remarkable. It had been a long, sometimes painful journey into womanhood, a voyage she knew she would never have completed this quickly and smoothly had she not been turned and exposed to the challenges that vampire life in general and hers in particular threw into her path. Yes, she had grown into a woman, but there had been a price. For everything good and extraordinary that had happened to her, she had had to pay in blood, tears and heartbreak. Her father. Matt. Tyler. Always Tyler. In some of her weaker moments, when she could be sure no-one heard her, Caroline silently yammered to herself about the incredible unfairness of things. Her undying loyalty, her sacrifices, her unfaltering readiness to give everything she had and more seemed never to be enough for the likes of her friends and family. Why was it that no matter what she did, however much she gave, fate or what the heck else this was never ceased to punch her in the face? Was she so undeserving of loyalty? Was she still such a terrible person that no-one deemed her worthy of a little effort and maybe the occasional sacrifice?
But someone did deem you worthy. Worthy of loyalty... and sacrifice.
Don't go there, okay?
Oh, come on, Caroline. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how he has forsaken his thirst for revenge for you? Contrary to that jerk you have been prepared to give up everything for and who wasn't able to put his so-called love for you above his hate?
No. No. Klaus bloody Mikaelson didn't count. What he had done for her could not counterbalance all the evil he had concocted in the past - and was probably scheming in this very moment. And no, the fact that she still hadn't managed to figure out whether to stake him or jump his bones had nothing to do with anything. It only made her a terrible person, didn't it? Maybe the others weren't so mistaken after all in considering her unworthy. What sane mind could ever be in doubt about Klaus being the pestilence?
Stefan's, for example?
Ordering the obnoxious voice inside her head to shut up, she continued to make her way towards The Grill. While walking at a leisurely human pace, Caroline forced the gloomy thoughts out of her mind - she simply didn't care to spend another night trying to understand why it was that the thoughts of Big Bad still confused the hell out of her. It was, after all, Christmas Eve. And although she hated the thought of having to spend it on her own, what with her mom on duty, Elena having escaped to her lake house to think, and both of the Salvatores off to sulk somewhere, she was fiercely determined to have herself a Merry Little Christmas. A nice dinner, a couple of drinks and afterwards, a late-night walk through the winter wonderland Mystic Falls had turned into would help her forget all about vampires, werewolves... and guys. Or the combination of any of the previous.
The heavy snowfall that had set in earlier this afternoon was still prevailing, although it had lessened slightly, and for a split second a joy not unlike the one she had experienced as a child was filling her up. It was a feeling of giddy expectation, as if all of this winter magic was whispering that something good was in store for her after all that she had gone through this year. And even though she knew not to expect anything from this Christmas, she allowed herself to quietly enjoy the sensation that a new beginning was in the air. Breathing in the crisp winter air, she vowed to find beauty in everything she saw on her way. The snow-covered trees. The warm, golden lights gleaming behind the windows of houses, shops and restaurants. The smiles on the few faces she encountered. The way the thick snowflakes danced in the air before settling on her coat and melting into the fabric. The subdued scent of Christmas that seemed to linger everywhere. It was all so lovely, so comforting... and yet she would have given an arm to share it with someone. But there would be no whining tonight, right?
When life gives you lemons, Caroline Forbes, you don't grimace because they're sour. You squeeze them and make lemonade.
Despite her resolve, she felt like turning on her heel upon pushing open the door to The Grill. Apart from the bartender and one lonesome waitress, not a soul was in sight, and for an instant, she wondered whether she had ever felt this extent of embarrassment. God, what would everyone say? Good news always travelled fast, and she didn't even want to think about how mercilessly Damon would rib her when he heard about her lonely Christmas dinner. She was briefly tempted to call Stefan and beg him to leave whatever hole he had dug for himself and keep her company, but then she decided against it. If he didn't feel like company, she would not force it upon him. That was something Old Caroline would have done.
Hold your head high and just breeze right through this!
Nodding at the bartender, she took a table in a remote corner of the room and grabbed the menu, doing her utmost to ignore the waitress's stares that were hovering somewhere between pitiful and smug. When she reached Caroline's table, she gave her a stale smile.
"Just one?" she asked in a patronising tone that was dripping with false sympathy, making Caroline feel like the biggest and loneliest idiot in the whole wide world. Just when she was about to make a snippy remark on how this must be the most redundant question anyone had ever asked, a new voice sounded right behind her.
"We're two, sweetheart."
She froze.
Hallucinations. I'm going loopy.
In a flash, she whirled around on her chair only to find that she wasn't having an episode.
Klaus. In the flesh. Standing there, his eyes fixed on her, a nonchalant smile plastered on his no, not at all handsome face.
"May I?" he asked, pointing at the chair opposite her. Caroline was still so stunned that she didn't manage to utter a word. She merely nodded, staring at Klaus like an apparition. There was no point in deluding herself. He looked... fantastic. Black denims, black shirt, black leather jacket.
Damn. Satan in designer rags.
The waitress seemed to share her thoughts. Gaping at Klaus, she stammered, "Can I get you anything to drink?"
Without taking his eyes off Caroline, he said, "A bottle of your best champagne, which I regretfully remember to be a non-vintage Louis Roederer - but it will have to do." The girl left, not without casting another not-so-covert glance at the hybrid who was leaning back in his chair. "You do look more lovely than ever, Caroline. College life becomes you, it would seem."
There was a genuine warmth in his voice that struck a chord inside her, a chord she didn't want to feel vibrating all through her system the way it did. Why did he get to her like this, again, after so many months without setting eyes on him or even hearing his voice? Dammit, it was Tyler who should have said something like that to her! It was her mom who should be with her tonight, cooking a Christmas dinner! It was Elena and Stefan who should be at her side, keeping her company and not leaving her all by herself! Her friends and family should be the ones to be rallying round her at Christmas, not the schizo hybrid mass murderer who for some arcane reason seemed to always appear when she least expected and most needed him to. Not that she had or would ever need him.
She noticed him staring at her, and she realised that she had been doing exactly the same thing without saying a word for the last few minutes. Clearing her throat, she folded her arms across her chest in an age-old gesture of self-protection. And defiance. The corners of his mouth were curving into a knowing smile, making her desperately attempt to ignore how her stomach contracted at the sight of his stupid dimples. But at least it made her find her language again.
"Please tell me you came here to sell your freaking house and are planning never to set foot in Mystic Falls again after that," she said, and as much as she tried to make herself sound snide and superior, her own voice sounded hollow and hesitant to her.
His smile broadened. "Gods, have I missed that sharp tongue of yours, love," he snickered. "Nothing compares to being snapped at by the charming Miss Forbes."
"As opposed to the female population of New Orleans who kneels to worship at your feet the minute you leave the house?"
"Ah," he grinned, "I wouldn't need to leave the house for that. But to answer your question - the ladies over there are nothing if not outspoken, and almost as saucy as you are." He paused, and his grin turned into a fond smile.
Okay, whoever she is - I hate her!
Wait, did I really just think that?
No, I didn't! Hallucinations, Caroline!
Klaus seemed to read her thoughts. Somehow, he had always been able to decipher every emotion on her face the way no-one else did. He leaned forward, a little twinkle in his eyes. "But there is not a woman on the planet whose scoldings I enjoy as thoroughly as yours, you may rest assured, and not in a BDSM kind of way. Although that remains to be seen." He chuckled, making Caroline's lips twitch in response. "And as to what I am doing here - I came to collect something from the house, which I have to inform you I have no intention of selling in the foreseeable future. I am much too fond of this place... and some of its inhabitants."
A brief surge of disappointment rushed through her. He hadn't come because of her. Not that she wanted him to. Not ever. After all, wasn't he responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life?
Ah, objection! He let Tyler go free. Putting his stupid revenge obsession before you was Tyler's idea, not Klaus'. You can't possibly blame him for that, no matter how much you want to and how easy it always is to make him the culprit for earthquakes, hunger and global terrorism.
But that didn't mean she was disappointed that he had merely come to collect something. Not. At. All. She would just enjoy the champagne, get over herself and send him on his way. And if she was to be honest, it felt... good not to sit here all alone. Ugh, this would result in even more taunts from Damon than spending the evening on her own!
The waitress arrived, placing the champagne cooler next to their table and two glasses in front of them. When she was about to open the bottle, Klaus held up a hand. "That is fine, I shall do it myself."
Looking somewhat offended, the girl muttered,"Let me know when you're ready to order," and left for the bar.
Deftly, Klaus opened the bottle and poured the pale golden liquid into the champagne flutes. Handing Caroline one of the glasses, he gave her a smile that lit up the entire room and send a warm, fuzzy sensation all through her system. Well, it would have, had it come from anyone else, she quickly added in her mind.
"Merry Christmas, Caroline," he said softly and raised his glass to her. When he lowered it again, Caroline just couldn't help it. Her eyes lingered on his mouth, taking in the small drop of champagne on his lower lip. It was all she could do to keep herself from licking her own lips at the sight. It looked... delicious, enticing, and she wondered whether Satan was doing this on purpose. In one large gulp, she downed her champagne, hoping to God that it would make her either drunk or drowsy enough to no longer notice things like champagne drops on the damn Original's lips.
"I didn't take you for someone who cared about Christmas," she remarked, merely to distract herself. "I'm trying to imagine you trimming a tree or singing carols, but all I can see is Santa lying at your feet, his neck snapped for delivering the wrong presents."
He gave her another chuckle while refilling her glass. "And there I had hoped that your abysmal opinion of my character had somewhat improved before I left Mystic Falls. It pains me to see that I was sadly mistaken." Giving her a wink that made her stupid, treacherous heart flutter, he sat back. "Believe it or not, love, even I have been known to enjoy the festive spirit every now and then. Nevertheless, Christmas has had its very own place in my heart for many years, although for purely non-religious reasons."
Caroline looked at him, puzzled. His voice had taken on a tone she had not often heard, all soft, wistful and... human. "And why is that?" she asked, her genuine curiosity written all over her face. What could have touched the Anitichrist's heart in a way that he still remembered, and apparently cherished?
"It is a rather long story, Caroline," he murmured defensively, shaking his head.
Embarrassed, are we, Big Bad?
Shrugging, she said, "As long as you keep the champagne coming... I might be able to bring myself to listen. And who knows, maybe the story serves to make me think of you not as Satan, but only as his disciple?" She couldn't quite suppress a giggle, but to her acute embarrassment, she caught herself hoping that he wouldn't turn her down. Not that she would ever tell anyone, but she had always liked to hear him talk, and what better occasion than Christmas Eve to listen to what was probably not so much of a Christmas story, but a tidbit from Klaus' colourful past, something she had secretly found fascinating for such a long time?
His eyes all but drowned in hers, and Caroline found herself losing her train of thought. He had always managed to do that to her, however much she had tried to fight it and even in those moments she had wholeheartedly hated him. The half-witted voice inside her head was asking whether it might be time to actually begin to accept what he did to her, and... no. Most definitely not before hell froze over!
"Very well," Klaus suddenly nodded, "it will be my pleasure, although I have to warn you that the story is not of wars and kings and glory and miracles. Shall we order before I start?"
Once they had placed their order, he refilled their glasses anew and fixed his gaze on her face. Why was it that he didn't even have to say a word to make her feel like the single most interesting and beautiful woman in the galaxy?
"On Chistmas Day of 1349, I was in England," he began, and Caroline decided to just relax for now. She leaned back into her chair, her glass in hand, tuning out everything but his words and the sound of his voice. "The Black Death had been raging through Europe for over a year, leaving behind an unparallelled swath of destruction. Not a human escaped when the disease decided to strike, and it struck mercilessly, again and again. And just when a tiny village or a stretch of land thought it had weathered the worst of the storm, the Black Death returned as if it had somehow heard the collective sigh of relief..."
My family and I had left London a few days ago. While the Black Death provided us with perfect cover for feeding and disappearing without a trace, given that in the current climate of fear and perdition, no-one truly paid attention to anyone other than themselves, it also made for gloomy days. Edward III Plantagenet's court had not been officially dissolved, but life in the palace had come to a standstill. Most of the courtiers has escaped to their country estates, isolating themselves as much as humanly possible. The King had his hands full with the attempt to somehow keep the realm afloat, and so we decided to leave the capital for some time until the situation returned to some level of normality. After lengthy debates and heated resistance from Rebekah, we had set our sights on Scotland. Both of my brothers and I were tired of disease, misery and filth, which was why we had agreed on the Highlands. My sister, however, was inconsolable. No society, no balls, no court... she hated the idea of solitude and nothing but earth, skies and sea, but she also did not want to be left behind. So we embarked on our journey, and after three days of travelling at human speed so as not to attract attention and to also gain a better idea of what shape the country was in beyond London, I was no longer the only one who felt inclined to snap Rebekah's neck in order to escape her constant whining.
Relief was therefore great when the walls of Peterborough Abbey came into sight on the distant horizon. The little village in the shadows of the Abbey lived from wool trade and was famous all over the country and even across its borders for hosting two annual fairs, the medieval equivalent of large international markets. This year, as the previous, both fairs had been suspended. In view of the millions of deaths all over the continent, what remained of the labour force in most European countries had to work twice as hard, and furthermore, not many tradesmen were daring enough to undertake any voyages at all. Apart from the unbelievable number of victims, the Black Death took its toll on every aspect of human life, including trade, economy and warfare.
From afar, Peterborough looked relatively unscathed, but as we had seen a hundredfold throughout the country, the peace and quiet the villages seemed to exude was deceiving. It turned out to be no different here. Upon entering the village, we saw it. The smoke of burning corpses on a nearby field. The red crosses on every other door, marking the houses whose inhabitants had fallen prey to the merciless plague. Eyes filled with hopelessness, features frozen in nameless terror. It was the Black Death's face, the same face it showed all over the known world, and it was looking straight at Peterborough.
Rebekah shook her head. "I am not staying here. Look around, Nik, this is nothing but a crematorium, and I seriously doubt that we shall find accommodations, let alone food and drink. And God knows I shall not be feeding on any of... them," she added, gesturing towards a group of men huddling together in front of a shabby little house. They were as filthy as the ground they were hovering on. For reasons unknown, I was suddenly gripped by a surge of pity stronger than any I had felt for decades. Something about those men, about the misery of this entire village, touched a part of me I had long since deemed forgotten. For a moment, I wondered whether all the pain and misery I had been looking at for over a year was finally taking its toll on me. Ignoring the unwelcome sentiment and dismounting my horse, I let my eyes wander down Main Street, a lane that did not quite deserve to be called a road. At its very end, I finally spotted the sign I had been looking for, a copper plate that had lost all of its luster. 'The King's Hound', the local tavern, seemed to be untouched by the plague as of yet, judging by the lack of a red cross on its heavy oak door. I pointed towards the large building.
"Feel free to sleep in the woods, sister. That might give us a well-needed respite from your incessant moaning. Do as you please, all of you. We shall continue our journey at dawn. I for one shall take a room, have a jug of wine, a hearty meal and a pillow to rest my head on tonight." Without waiting for a response, I mounted my horse again and directed it down the road, hearing Elijah and Kol follow. After a brief hesitation and some mumbling about the dreadfulness of the fate that had made me her brother, Rebekah, too, gave her horse the spurs. When I passed the men I had seen earlier, I looked down at them. One lifted his head, and his eyes met mine. He showed no outward signs of the Black Death, but as certain as the sun would rise in the East tomorrow, he had no more than a week to live. After over three centuries on this Earth, I recognised the shadows of the grim reaper when they descended on a human. And once again, I felt sorry. This stranger, this filthy peasant who looked up at me with eyes that no longer held any spark, any gleam - and probably never had - this man filled me with a sadness that all but paralysed me. For reasons passing understanding, I did something I had never done before. I inclined my head in a silent salute. The man's eyes widened, acute disbelief racing across his face as he stared at me, obviously attempting to understand whether I was mocking him. No more than two heartbeats later, he half-rose and bowed while his eyes never left me.
Then the moment was over.
It took us another minute to reach the tavern, and as we dismounted, I saw both Kol and Rebekah look at me with an incredulity on their faces that rivalled that of the peasant. Kol was about to open his mouth when Elijah inconspicuously stepped on his foot. I did my best to pretend that nothing had happened and proceeded to hand my horse's reins to a stable boy who neared slowly and with great caution, the way every human approached a stranger in these perilous times.
Night had fallen.
My siblings had gone about their various businesses - Kol had left to hunt, Rebekah had only just returned and was now ostentatiously sulking in her room, and Elijah, after attempting in vain to persuade us to have a family dinner, citing Christmas as a valid enough reason but being blatantly ignored, had retired to immerse himself in an illustrated version of Dante's Divine Comedy he had recently acquired from a French monastery. I knew that Elijah was devastated about the effects the Black Death was having on the modern world, and that he was genuinely appalled at the death toll, but from time to time, I wondered whether my older brother's deepest regret was in fact the lack of new works in prose and verse. Times were not very inspiring, and many of the epoch's most gifted and beloved writers, painters and other artists had succumbed to the plague. Dark times indeed.
Stepping out of the tavern, I looked left and right before I decided to direct my steps towards the stretch of forest right behind the village. My mood was for solitude, for some respite from wailing sisters, dying humans and the oppressing doom and gloom that hovered at every corner. If my hearing was not mistaken, there was a little rivulet a good three miles into the woods, and so I flashed ahead, enjoying the night wind on my face and the soothing, even comforting sounds of the forest. I felt full and sated after having fed on a young peasant girl earlier that evening. She would live, as did most of those who served to quench my thirst these days. When the Black Death had begun to truly show its ugly face, I had decided to limit the number of those I killed after feeding from them - there were quite simply not enough healthy humans left to afford killing too many, and it was impossible to tell whether the population would recover from this onslaught of nature. More than once, I had shaken my head at the irony - the greatest of plagues was what protected humanity from the greatest of predators. When the first men and women had taken ill, over a year ago, Kol had fed on one of them out of sheer curiosity. There was nothing he would not try at least once, no matter how many times Elijah attempted to persuade him not to. I had long since given up on stopping Kol from anything - as long as he did not interfere with my own business or put the family in danger, I let him carry on at his leisure. Arguments with the boy tended to end in bloodshed, and after three hundred years of continuous clashes, I was growing increasingly tired of them. And so Kol had tasted blood that had been poisoned by the Black Death. He had almost vomited. When he had recovered, he had described the taste as putrid, rotten, like the smell of decomposing flesh, and it had taken him days to entirely lose the expression of disgust on his face. Ever since then, we had grown careful of who we decided to feed from.
The little creek I had heard was now right ahead of me, a vivid brook as clear as glass that danced over a number of weathered rocks. With a sigh of satisfaction, I knelt at the edge of the water, formed a little bowl with my hands and filled them with the icy liquid. It was delicious, pure, belying all the putrefaction that so dominated our life and times. Closing my eyes, I sipped some more water before leaning back against a large boulder, ignoring the freezing air and deeply enjoying the peace and silence that surrounded me here. It is very possible that after a while, I might have dozed off a little, which would explain why I had not heard the noise until its originators had almost reached me.
Humans. Three of them.
My eyes snapped open, and I felt annoyance replace the rare serenity that had filled me only moments ago. Not in the mood for any encounters, I rose and quickly hid behind a cluster of large firs a few yards away. If the humans did not leave in time, I would either kill them or try my luck a little further upstream. I had not yet decided whether I felt magnanimous tonight.
"Father, I am cold," the voice of a child sounded now, and a moment later, the humans came into sight. A tall, burly man who was carrying a woman in his arms, and the child that had just spoken, a girl of maybe five years, clinging to her father's coat. All three of them looked ragged and utterly exhausted, giving witness of a long and draining journey.
"I know, darling," the man said, weariness in his tone. Halting his steps, he looked around, despite his obvious exhaustion meticulously scouring his surroundings. I, too, listened instinctively, coming up empty. There was no-one to be heard for miles. The man seemed to come to the same conclusion. Nodding, he said to the girl, "Lay out the rug next to that boulder, Sarah, between it and the water so that the rock holds off the worst of the wind. Very good. Well done, darling." With infinite care, he set the woman down on the rug, leaning her against the boulder the same way I had been sitting there only minutes ago. I watched the woman more closely. She was alive, but barely. The Black Death had sunk its claws into her, and it would not be long. When her hood fell back, the characteristic, blue-black blots that covered her face became visible, a clear sign that she had mere hours left, if at all. My eyes returned to the man and his daughter, and I was astonished to find that neither displayed any manifestations of the disease, despite their close contact with the infected woman. They looked worn but otherwise healthy.
The man began to collect some fallen branches, obviously planning to set up a fire, which meant that they intended to camp and that I would need to find another place to indulge in my solitude as I did not feel inclined to kill them. But something held me back. It was the same alien feeling I had experienced earlier upon looking at the stranger in the street, mixed with another sensation I was not quite able to pinpoint. For some reason, I felt comforted looking at the man, the child and the dying woman - and I did not have the remotest inkling why. So I remained in my hiding place, intent on finding out what it was that seemed to be going on inside me today. Somehow, this was not me, was it?
A short while later, a small fire was burning. The man had obvious experience with outdoor life, which led me to believe that he might be a soldier, or maybe a mercenary. A deserter, probably, run off from whatever war he had been fighting to be with his family in these difficult times. It was something I recognised and respected - I had always had nothing but contempt for those who put their would-be honour ahead of their families' welfare. And many a soldier, nobleman or sovereign had discovered that the price he had ultimately paid for his pursuit of glory had been far too high. But this man seemed to be made of more solid stuff. He sat down next to his wife and opened his coat. The girl squealed with delight and all but jumped into his arm. He smiled and covered her with the coat while at the same time pulling the other end of it around the woman, making her lie on his chest.
"All will be well," he murmured, and I saw his face turn into a grimace at the outright lie. "It is, after all, the night our Lord was born, a night of miracles and goodness." He obviously did not believe a word of what he was saying, but the girl looked up at him adoringly, her eyes full of trust and belief, and even the woman's eyes opened for a moment. I all but recoiled at the love I could see in them, despite her illness, despite the knowledge that she would not live to see the light of dawn rise over the trees. All through what I imagined must have been indescribable agony, she looked at her husband with such warmth and wordless understanding that I felt my throat tighten.
So they sat for an hour, maybe two, and I was incapable of taking my eyes off them. In the face of the freezing cold and the certainty that one of them would soon be torn from their midst, they exuded a peace, a happiness, that I had not known even during the most joyful of my days - not that there had been that many. They seemed content to merely be together, confirming my deepest belief that this was what a true family should be about. Remaining at each other's side and not abandon one another, however adverse the times became.
After a while, though, the woman's condition worsened. Without a warning, she began to cough up blood, a fountain of red that erupted from her like a geyser. The coughing did not stop, making the little girl burst into bitter, fearful tears and the man's face contort in pain for a second before he regained control of himself.
"Sarah," he said, "blood can be washed off. Your mother's fear of the journey she is about to embark on cannot, and that is why we will accompany her for as much of her way as we can. You are a very brave girl, and now you shall give your strength and courage to your mother. She will take our love with her and live in its warmth and splendour for all eternity, just as her love will remain here with us, to shine in our hearts forever."
The child had stopped crying, appeased by her father's soothing, tender words. I could almost see how she gathered all the courage she could muster before wrapping her arms around her mother and kissing her bloodied cheek. The man was right - this was a very brave little girl. "I am here, Mama. Do not be afraid. I will not allow you to be cold or frightened!"
Both of them were now holding the dying woman. It was said that in death, everyone was alone, and I remembered how my own passing had felt like the epitome of loneliness, but something was different tonight. Yes, the very final step was every human's to take on his or her own, and yet, here was a woman whose family put her above their own fears, knowing that so close a contact with someone the Black Death had chosen would most certainly bring the plague upon them, too. Her coughing had ceased, and she was quietly nestled in her husband's and her daughter's arms while her breathing became increasingly laboured. The end was mere minutes away, and I stood behind my tree, rooted to the spot. By the Gods, I had witnessed death in all shapes and forms, and I had seen thousands of humans and supernatural beings meet their end - they had been brave, cowardly, haughty, pathetic, heroic, quiet... and never, not once, had I been thus affected. There was a perfectly logical explanation for my reaction, of that I was certain - as I had already deducted earlier, watching doom and decay day-in, day-out for over a year had somehow influenced my state of mind. But I would worry about it later. All of a sudden, there was a ragged breath, a gagging sound... and then nothing but silence.
The woman was dead.
It took both the man and the child a few seconds to notice. The girl's eyes widened in terror when she gazed into her mother's unmoving face. In a lightning-fast move, she was on her knees and began to shake the woman.
"Mama!" she cried, and again, "Mama! Mama!"
Her father inconspicuously wiped off a tear before pulling little Sarah into his arms and rocking her back and forth, running a hand up and down her back. In a whisper, he began to relate a story about how everyone who was as beloved as her mother, was sent into the night skies when they died, turning into a bright, twinkling star that brought light into the darkness and forever watched over those they had left behind. Over the man's soft voice, the girl gradually cried herself to sleep, cradled in her father's arms, her hand still holding the lifeless fingers of the woman that had been her mother. Silent tears streamed over the man's face once he stopped speaking, allowing himself to give in to his grief only while his daughter was slumbering.
And without a warning, I felt a tear run down my own cheek. Aghast, I touched my face, but it was there. The first tear that had left my eyes in over three hundred years. And I was crying it for humans.
A short while later, after fighting an almost impossible battle against further tears, I discerned noises in the distance. More humans, five or six, armed. As I was not yet prepared to leave, I remained where I was, hoping that whoever was making their way through the woods would choose another path. But I was not in luck. A few hundred yards downstream, the dark shapes of men appeared. They had certainly spotted the remains of the fire and were probably coming to investigate. One never knew whether a fine, roasted boar was to be found over a fire. When they had almost reached us, the man finally noticed the new arrivals, and while his concentration may have been impaired by grief, his reaction was not. In the blink of an eye, he jumped up, shook his daughter awake before pushing her behind his back against the boulder, and gripped an old, weathered sword that had been hidden beneath the rug. One of the men stepped up to the fire, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Then they fell on the dead woman... and the blood-soaked clothes of father and child.
Recoiling, he, too, pulled his sword. "You," he gritted out between clenched teeth, "drop the sword. I give you my word that we shall end you fast and painlessly, but you are carrying the plague and shall hence be killed and burned."
"And who are you to pass sentence on a man and child in perfect health?" the man shot back, his grip around his sword tightening. "Not that I believe you to be brave enough to so much as approach either of us."
"Seize them," the leader of the group snapped at his men. When they were about to lunge, I finally left my hiding place. It took me no more than twenty seconds to take down all five, and no more than a couple of minutes to set fire to the bodies. All during my attack, the man and his daughter had been staring at me, immobilised, and they still did when I turned to face them now. The little girl Sarah was first to recover. She took a step forward, ignoring her father who was attempting to hold her back, and looked me in the eyes.
"Are you an angel?" she demanded, hope in her voice. "Can you bring my Mama back?"
I could not help myself - something that seemed to happen rather frequently tonight - and knelt down so that she would not need to look up at me. "No, little one," I said, "I am not an angel, hence I cannot bring back your mother from where she has ventured. But just as she will be protecting you from the heavens above, you shall have my protection from the Black Death on Earth." Giving her a brief smile, I seized a little leaden cup from the ground next to the fire; they had earlier been heating some water in it. While I rose, I bit my wrist and let my blood pour into the minuscule goblet until it was almost full. Handing it to the man, I nodded towards the child.
"Make her drink half of it, then drink the other half. Leave immediately, and find yourself a place somewhere in the wilderness where the Black Death will not follow. My blood will protect you from death should you have contracted the disease from your wife, but I cannot save you from later encounters with it. Go. Survive."
The man stared at the cup, then at me, and back at the cup. I know he did not understand anything, how could he, but he clearly believed me. "Thank you," he murmured, pulling the girl to his side.
When I was just about to leave, a sudden thought crossed my mind. "What is your name? And what was your wife's?"
"I am Thomas. My wife is... was Alice."
With another brief smile, I inclined my head, just as I had done with the man on the street earlier. What a strange Christmas night.
"Thomas, Alice and Sarah," I said, confining their names to memory. Three insignificant humans I would never forget. "Godspeed."
He was silent for a long while after that, lost in thought. Their food had arrived earlier, but neither Klaus nor Caroline had touched any of it. She was staring at the Original, transfixed. Klaus had always been different with her when they had been alone, and more than once had she caught a glimpse of compassion, a fleeting peek at who he was behind his grim façade - but never like this. All throughout the story, his voice had been vibrating with emotion, and when he had described the moment Alice had died and her daughter had cried for her mother, she had seen a faint shimmer in his eyes, although she couldn't be entirely sure whether that had not been a reflection of the candlelight. She felt all warm and glowing inside, like someone who had believed that all hope was gone and now found a tiny spark of it, against all odds. But what was it she was hoping for?
Raising her glass, she took another sip, her eyes on his pensive face. "I would have thought that it was a joyful event that made you so fond of Christmas. I hadn't expected a sad story like this one," she said softly. It took him a moment to answer.
"The humans' fate had not been a happy one, that is true. But within all that tragedy, which was one of millions that were happening in Europe at the time of the Black Death, I found one small, incredible piece of joy for myself. And yes, I am aware how this sounds, so let me explain. Do you recall what I told you about the hummingbird I encountered in the Andes?"
Caroline nodded. Of course she remembered - she had been playing a charade, together with Tyler and that bitch of a she-wolf, and still Klaus had managed to make her feel for him with his little tale of the hummingbird. She had never told Tyler or anyone else just how much she had enjoyed that afternoon, the way Klaus' entire attention was focused on her - and how he had voluntarily and freely allowed her a glimpse into his heart.
"I am glad that you do," he went on, and it was only now that Caroline noticed how during his story, they had both leaned forward and their hands seemed to have made their way across the table, almost meeting in its middle... almost touching. And what was even worse was that she felt no inclination whatsoever to pull her hand away. On the contrary. "I told you that it was the only time I thought about how satisfying being human must be, and it was the truth. There was no other moment when I have ever wished to be human again. But that night in Petersborough, after three hundred years of firmly believing that I had lost every last bit of the man I had once been, I understood that I had been mistaken. That night, my humanity returned for the first time in centuries, even if only for a few ephemeral moments." He paused, his eyes burning into hers. "That, Caroline, was my very own miracle, a miracle I secretly celebrate each and every year on Christmas Day. Not a soul in this world knows about it, not even Elijah."
"Then why are you telling me?" Caroline whispered, feeling her throat constrict.
Klaus leaned further forward, his intoxicating scent only adding a sensual component to her emotional confusion. Did the man have to smell so heavenly? "Because you are the one, the only one, who deserves to know," he simply said.
How am I ever going to be able to keep on hating him? How can I ever keep on wanting to hate him?
Abruptly, she rose. She just couldn't deal with this. With herself and with what he kept on doing to her. Grabbing her coat, she shrugged into it and hastily grasped her purse. "Thanks for the evening, Klaus. It was nice to have some company, and I appreciate the insight into your past. Merry Christmas, and safe travels back to New Orleans."
She walked at a brisk human pace until The Grill's door had closed behind her. Then she flashed off as if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were after her, hoping that he would for once take a hint and let her be. But he was Klaus - and she should have known better. Only seconds later, a hand grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt.
"Have I not told you once before never to turn your back on me?" he asked, but there was no anger in his voice. She hung her head and did not reply. Very quietly, Klaus spoke again. "It frightens you, does it not? Having to admit to yourself that there might possibly be some sides to me that are not entirely atrocious? Caroline, love, you have never been a coward, not once in your life, and it would hurt me to no small extent to learn that I can make you afraid, even if it is only of facing the truth."
He was right, of course he was, but she could not allow this! Just how many times had she berated Elena for loving Damon? There was no way in hell that she could ever befriend the man who had killed Jenna, Carol Lockwood, and about three quarters of the world's population!
Befriend? As if you were thinking of friendship when you were almost holding his hand in there!
She could no longer handle the inner turmoil that was assaulting her. Klaus being so honest, so kind, so fucking alluring... her own guilt, her confusion, her lingering desire to learn more about this complicated, thousand-year-old mystery of a man she was spending Christmas Eve with instead of sending him to hell... it was too much. And there was no stopping Old Caroline from reacting to being completely overwhelmed.
"Leave me alone," she snapped, her voice on the verge of breaking. "I don't care what does or doesn't hurt you, can't you get that into your Original head? You've ruined Tyler's life, just as you ruin everyone you so much as say hi to, and no heartwarming tale that you probably made up in the first place can ever undo that!"
The second she had uttered the words, she wished with all her heart that she could take them back. And when she looked up into his face, she felt like bursting into tears. He looked stricken, almost heartbroken - only minutes ago, he had opened up, confiding something to her he had never shared with anyone in over seven hundred years, and she had nothing better to do than to throw it back in his face. Damn, she had not even meant what she had said - her mouth had been faster than her brain, am unforgivable relapse into pre-vampire days. God, she hated that stupid twit that had just spoke! She was about to open her mouth when he released her arm and took a step back. His voice was cold and distant, and his eyes were pure ice.
"As you wish. I do apologize for having wasted your time."
Before Caroline could even say a word, he was gone.
"Klaus," she whispered, almost choking on the word, "I'm sorry."
It was way after midnight when she finally arrived at her house. Liz had not yet returned, which was good, as she would have been sure to notice the streaks of dried tears on her daughter's cheeks. Caroline felt dreadful in a way she hadn't even felt on the night of her breakup with Tyler. Well, it probably had something to do with how, contrary to Tyler's, Klaus' eyes had been filled with a genuine, gut-wrenching pain at her harsh words. She had cried for at least an hour while walking through the deserted streets and parks, and she could still not understand what on Earth had gotten into her.
Sniffling, she climbed the stairs, longing for the seclusion of her room, her warm PJ's, and a few hours of oblivion. Pulling the door closed behind her, she dropped her purse and coat on a chair and flicked on the lights.
Oh my God.
On her bed, leaning against the wall, sat a painting. Tall, elegantly framed in thin silver and with a tiny card protruding from one of the corners. With shaking hands, Caroline pulled it out from under the metal. Only a few words were written on it in Klaus' beautiful, ancient copperplate.
This is how I see you.
Merry Christmas.
Klaus
Letting her hand sink and dropping the card onto her bed, she felt her eyes fill with with tears again. He must have left it before he had come to The Grill - and he hadn't come to take it back! Pulling up a chair, Caroline sat and focused all of her senses on the breathtakingly beautiful oil painting.
In the background, a window with white shades and a blue curtain was faintly discernible, bordering on a light purple wall. A woman was standing in front of a barely visible bed, one hand on the curved brass frame, the other behind her back that was half-turned towards the spectator. A bright purple pareo with a floral print was wrapped around her hips, and a white, loose shirt embroidered at the seams was just dropping from her bare shoulders. The shirt still covered the woman's breast, but barely, and Caroline had the distinct sensation that if she looked long enough, the garment would drop to the ground. A cascade of golden, slightly wavy hair fell down her back, shimmering in the light that was streaming in through the shades. Only a hint of the woman's face was visible, but there could be no doubt.
It was her.
Through her tears that were now falling in streams, Caroline stared at the incredible artwork. Everything about it radiated light, strength and a beauty that was not from this world. It seemed to breathe, to have a life of its own. She had seen some of Klaus' paintings, but she had had no idea that he was this gifted. Or that anyone on this planet, in this whole universe, could ever see her like this.
Made of light.
Made of love.
There was love in every brush stroke, in every last one of the tiny flowers on the pareo, in the way the curves of her shoulders were painted, in the hand that touched, no, caressed, the bed frame.
This entire painting was nothing other than a love letter Klaus Mikaelson had written, signed and sealed.
Caroline stood and walked around her bed, sitting down right in front of the painting. Very carefully, she touched it, running her index finger along the line of her shoulders, down her arm... and on to the curve of her breast. She could all but feel the adoration in his work, the way his eyes had closed when he had pictured her in his mind before applying colour to the canvas, immortalising her - and his feelings. The feelings she had repeatedly trampled with all her might, tonight more than ever.
Without thinking, she jumped off the bed and raced out of the room, down the stairs, out of the house. She just wished that she could fly, had a helicopter, or anything else that would make her faster. The three minutes it took her to reach the Mikaelson mansion on the other end of town seemed like a year. Sprinting up the steps, she pushed the door open and stormed into the hall.
"Klaus!" she called, her heart beating like a jackhammer. Please, let him still be here! "Klaus!" There was no answer. Trying to bring her revolting stomach under control, she closed her eyes and stopped breathing so as not to make a sound. Concentrating, she listened closely. There it was - a faint, barely audible heartbeat further down the hall, then to her left. The study. Without saying another word, she silently made her way through the vast corridor.
The study was bathed in darkness, and no human eye could have identified the motionless shadow that was perched on an armchair facing a floor-length window that led to the equally dark gardens. Caroline smelled Scotch... and Klaus' unmistakable, alluring scent that had wreaked such havoc on her system earlier that night. He gave no sign that he had noticed her presence. Not that she could blame him. Suppressing a nervous sigh, she crossed the room until she stood in front of the chair, obstructing his view into the gardens. His eyes did not move - it was like he was staring right through her.
He said you've always had courage. Prove him right!
"Klaus," she said again, very softly this time, "I came to tell you that I'm sorry. What I said before... I didn't mean that."
He took a swig of his Scotch and shrugged. When he spoke, his voice was indifferent. "Fine. Was that all, then?"
It hurt. Oh, it hurt! He had never been indifferent towards her, and as much as she had always persuaded herself that she wanted nothing more than to no longer be his little obsession, she would never have believed that even his feigned indifference could have any effect on her, let alone one that made her want to pull him out of his damn chair and shake him until he looked at her. She took a deep breath and decided that she did not want their Christmas Eve to end like this. Not for her... and not for Klaus. His eyes popped open when she swiftly knelt in front of him, her hands on the armrests, jailing him in his chair.
"No, that was not all," she replied firmly. "I meant what I just said. I have no idea what came over me, and..."
Without a warning, his face was right in front of hers, mere inches away. Caroline's heartbeat accelerated from jackhammer to machine gun. Like a hummingbird.
"I am tired of this, Caroline," he hissed, and all through the rage on his face, she recognised his pain. After all this time, all her rejections and their constant bickering, it was only tonight that she had dealt him a true, genuine blow. It was as clear to her as if he had written it down - he had trusted her, given her a piece of who he truly was beneath the thick layers of cruelty, murder and suspicion he had built around himself over the centuries, and she had immediately betrayed that trust. With a jolt, Caroline remembered what she had said to him on the day of his encounter with Silas when he had asked for her help. 'Friendship, stage one - show me that I can trust you.' How could she make such a demand when, apparently, she wasn't that trustworthy herself? Tonight had not been about distractions, he had not threatened to kill anyone, she had not been the bait for one of her friends' kamikaze plans - and yet she had behaved like a hysterical shrew.
Neither of them moved an inch as he spoke again. "I am tired of only receiving some level of civility from you when you either play the distraction for your little gang of so-called friends or when you want something from me - a gown, my help, whatever it was that you needed, I freely and happily gave it to you. I spared Tyler, and more than once, for your sake. I saved Damon bloody Salvatore's life because you asked me to. Let me tell you a little secret, Caroline - had it not been for you, none of your friends would still be roaming this Earth. And all I ever asked from you was your friendship." He paused and moved another inch... oh my God. It felt like their lips were about to touch. All it took was for one of them to move forward. Caroline held her breath and was just about to close her eyes when he whispered, "Yet, whatever I say or do, it will never be enough, will it? In your eyes, the blood I have shed can never be washed off. Well, it is Christmas, love, and at Christmas, wishes are granted. So I am granting your heart's desire tonight - I shall never bother you again. I will return to New Orleans in the morning, dedicate myself to all those new aspects of my life that require my attention, and you will never have to lay eyes on me from this day forward. You may leave my house now."
Klaus leaned back into his chair and grabbed the glass he had set on the armrest. His eyes were still on her when he took a sip while Caroline stared back at him, thunderstruck. She had done it! He would leave her alone, and she would never have to see him again! Granted, it had taken a while, but she had finally managed! It was what she had wanted ever since he had stepped into her room that first night, wasn't it? Her stomach seemed to plummet from a skyscraper, and an inexplicable ache that came out of nowhere left her heart sliced open and bleeding. In a blur, she was on her feet, snatched his glass from his hand and smashed it into the empty fireplace with all her might.
"No!" she exclaimed, not caring that her voice was trembling. "No, you're not giving up on me, Klaus Mikaelson! A little bump on the road, and you throw the towel? Whatever happened to 'I intend to be your last, however long it takes'? Was that nothing but a phrase, a little graduation pep talk?"
Now he was the one to jump to his feet, his face vivid with emotion. "You know damn well that it was nothing of the sort! But however much that stupid heart of mine is ruling my head when it comes to you, I have arrived at a point when I will have to listen to reason. I may not know much about love, Caroline, but this I do know - a woman who is incapable of overcoming what I have done in little over a year cannot be expected to accept the thousand years I have already lived. Unfortunately for me, that woman is the only one who can truly hurt my heart, and although I was willing to accept that pain while I still had the faintest of hopes that someday, she might find it in her to accept my feelings, I am not ready to expose myself to that agony again and again when I can expect nothing to ever change. I am done, Caroline. Do leave my house. Now."
Before she realized what she was doing, she had bridged the distance between them and took his face in her hands. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was the mixture of shock, rage, wonder and longing on his face.
Her lips touched his, and her entire life was suddenly centred on the divine sweetness that invaded her every sense. His lips were pure silk, and she faintly thought that their mouths must have been shaped for each other, the way they fit over one another so perfectly. Caroline no longer cared that he was still rigid, unmoving, and not returning her kiss. For as long as he let her, she would hold on to him, run her hand through his hair... ohh, it feels divine... all soft and velvety.. and absorb everything she could. His taste was beyond compare, and she wished with all her heart that his lips would part and allow her tongue to explore his mouth.
But he was still not moving, and however intoxicated she was, she began to feel a little embarrassed at his complete lack of response. Very gradually, she began to withdraw from him, her face flaming red, her heart pounding in her chest. The second her lips left his, his hands were on her arms.
"No," he whispered, "do not let go of me."
And then his lips were on hers again, and Caroline thought she had died and gone to paradise. His mouth danced on hers while his hands were suddenly buried in her hair, and he pulled her against him so roughly that all air left her lungs. Very deliberately, she parted her lips, inviting, no, demanding him in. And she did not have to ask twice. All the response she had wished for during her previous little assault, he gave her now, and much, much more. Everything inside her began to burn and tingle at his touch, and at the unspeakable things his tongue did to hers. In a flash, he had pushed her against the window, trapping her hands against the cool glass while his lips roamed over her face... and her neck. When his tongue first tasted the skin on the curve of her shoulder, a little moan escaped him, and a second later, she felt his human teeth bite the spot his tongue had just conquered.
"Caroline," he murmured against her skin while he let go of her hands, "take me in your arms."
Her heart nearly burst at his whispered plea, making her wrap her arms around him and pressing him against her as hard as she could. His arms came around her, and while they were holding each other so close, his lips continued their loving onslaught on her exposed skin. Now it was Caroline who couldn't suppress a moan, burying her own mouth in his neck, desperate to discover more of him - and she was richly rewarded. Klaus' moans filled the room, and his every motion was almost desperate as he pulled her closer while his hand pushed her shirt aside to give his mouth more of her shoulder to devour. Wherever his lips and tongue touched her skin, they left it heated and glowing, as if his kisses turned her light, the light he had so beautifully captured in his painting, into something visible. And then, abruptly, he stopped.
They were both panting, staring at each other, completely mesmerised. Klaus shook his head once before lifting his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks so gently that she all but melted underneath his touch. In slow motion, he leaned in and covered her lips with his again. The loveliness of this kiss was genuinely painful. Caroline felt his fingers tremble on her skin while his lips conveyed everything she had never believed he had inside him. This was not the kiss of a man whose life's mission was to cause as much grief and devastation as he could. This was the kiss of a man who must once have been bursting with love, but who had hidden it away as far from the surface as possible, locked it up and thrown away the key. This kiss screamed for love, just as it poured all of his feelings into her. A line from an old song flashed through her head.
If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss, that's where it is.
And she felt the truth in every fibre of her body. What she had craved since her earliest days was just now being given to her, and Caroline longed to return it with the same intensity - yet she couldn't. Not here, not tonight. She knew no other way to love than with the entirety of her heart, soul and body, and while her body was definitely beyond ready, her heart and soul would still need to catch up.
Very gently, she broke the kiss, ignoring the acute sense of loss upon no longer feeling his silken, expert lips on hers. "Klaus," she whispered, "we need to talk."
His eyes were clouded and dreamy in a way that made her want to drag him to the nearest bed - or rather, shove him to the ground and take him right there - but he complied as she expected him to. "Yes, I believe we do." Before she could even blink, he took his previous seat in the armchair, pulling her onto his lap and pressing a light kiss to her throat that sent a round of shivers through her. "Will you allow me to begin?"
Caroline nodded, deciding that she was infinitely comfortable in his arms and worming herself deeper into his embrace. Klaus' arms tightened around her, and his contented sigh made her smile.
"First of all," he said, "I have to make a confession, love. You are the only person in the world who can manage to turn me upside down and inside out from one moment to the next. One minute, I am determined never to see you again. Ten seconds later, I want to tear off your clothes and make love to you until the world comes to an end. With you, I never know what to expect, and I love it. I adore it. After one thousand years, life becomes utterly predictable, yet you manage to keep taking me by surprise." He pressed his lips together, and she was astonished to see the pain return into his eyes. "I want you in my life, Caroline. I need you in my life. No," he shook his head when she started to speak, "let me say this. I am fully aware that this is not the night we shall be riding off into the sunset. You and I... it would not yet work. Not now. What I said to you before indulging in what have been the most beautiful kisses a woman has ever bestowed on me is still valid. These past few moments were amazing, hypnotising, and I am, as ever, desperately on fire for you. I always have been, and I always will be. But none of it can serve to erase the reservations you have against me. I will not attempt to justify what I have done in the past, for I am well aware that in your eyes, I never could. But I do not only have a past, I also have a future, and that is the chance I will seize. One day, I want to be able to look into your eyes the way I do now and see acceptance. Allegiance. Love. I vowed to be your last love, Caroline, and that is what I shall be. Tonight has taught me to hope that someday, you might learn to love me, implausible as it may seem."
She shifted on his lap so she could take a better look at his face. "Then how do you want me to be a part of your life right now?" she asked, still recovering from the warmth that had flooded her at the recognition that she truly meant the world to him. So much so that he would not rush her and give her the opportunity to find more of those hidden sides of him he showed no-one but her.
Klaus leaned forward and pressed a light, sweet kiss to her lips. Stop making my knees go weak, Big Bad! "I would like to make a suggestion. Tomorrow, when both our heads are clearer and we have had some distance from tonight's events, should you feel so inclined, I will speak to you of certain recent... events that will have a considerable impact on my future. I will share every aspect of my life with you, Caroline. No secrets, no lies, and I will tell you of everything that happens from now on, in whichever way you choose - preferably looking into your beautiful face and holding you, but I will be happy to do it over the phone, by homing pigeon or smoke signals. For as long as it takes for you to decide whether a life at my side is or is not for you."
"But what about you? Wouldn't you want to know what is going on in my life?"
"I shall be immensely grateful for every detail you care to share with me. Your thoughts, your day-to-day activities, your triumphs and defeats... what you had for breakfast. However, I will not need any of it to make up my mind in regards to you, love. My decision has been taken long ago. So what do you say?"
All of her insides softened at the anxiety in his tone. "Can I ask you a question?" He gave a curt nod. "The painting. Is that really how you see me?" She knew the answer, but she still wanted to hear it. Klaus ran his fingers over her cheek, a touch so tender and feather-light she would have missed it had she not seen his hand move.
"No, love," he said, "but my abilities do quite simply not suffice to create an exact image of what I see when I look at you. The painting is the closest I have come, but it is still light years away from what it should be. I do hope you enjoy it, though."
"It is very... eloquent. And I love it, Klaus. I think it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen." Ignoring his playful snort, she added, "And I agree."
He was silent for a moment before taking her face in his hands. "To my suggestion?"
"Yes."
With an incredulous gasp, he crashed her against him and kissed her. Long, hard, passionately. Caroline's head began to swim as she lost herself in the way his mouth took possession of her, his hands roamed all over her body and his heart was beating frantically under her own hands. Minutes, hours... she had no idea how much time had passed when they finally let go of each other, only to drown in one another's eyes for another little eternity. Settling into his arms anew, Caroline leaned her head against his shoulder and gave a deep sigh.
"I haven't even given you a present," she murmured after a few moments of comfortable silence.
There was a warm, delighted chuckle. "Oh, but you have."
"Making out doesn't count as a present," she objected with a grin.
Klaus placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face until he could look her in the eyes. "You have given us a beginning, Caroline. A possibility. And that gives me a second reason to celebrate Christmas every year from now on. With or without you."
For the umpteenth time that night, Caroline basked in that special warmth only the knowledge of truly being loved could ever evoke in one's heart. He was still Klaus, and she was still Caroline, but he had said it.
It was a beginning.
A possibility.
A little Christmas miracle.