Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Like a Tragedy (Like a Dark Comedy)
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Mondays really do suck, was the thought echoing on repeat, in Caroline's mind as she drove home from school. Her knuckles were white and clenched on the steering wheel; the radio blasting, playing whatever popular pop song; foot pressing hard against the gas.
From the moment she'd been woken up by her alarm, Caroline could almost swear it was going to be a terrible day—so even without Bonnie's witchy juju, her prediction was proven sadly correct. Caroline honestly would have rather faced some new supernatural drama focused on Elena than be in that building after only twenty minutes into the school day!
Firstly there was problems with her fellow cheerleaders, next was most of the town committees Caroline volunteered for, and finally, the snobby fake-blond junior who dared to try and steal HBIC status from her—yes, her, Caroline Forbes the HBIC of Mystic Falls High School since her sophomore year!
So all in all Caroline was absolutely done with everything and everyone for the day. All she wanted was a quiet bubble bath with music, then to sleep through the rest of this horrible very bad day.
Getting out of the car and walking to her front door was done on autopilot—mind elsewhere, thoughts and daydreams from this tiny town that sucked the life out of its inhabitant's souls. Yet once inside, the usually perky blond dropped her bag with a dull thud on the hardwood; leaning against the wall, head connecting with a harsh thump, before sliding to the floor as if boneless. Heaving a sigh, Caroline looked around the absolutely silent house smiling wearily and standing to walk to her room.
Entering her personal sanctuary, she almost screamed as the sight of male boots met her eyes after flicking on the light—next blue eyes widening in absolute shock and horror at just who those booted feet belonged to: Klaus.
Looking him over flinty-eyed, Caroline let out a huff and clenched her fists.
"Hello, love," he announced in his accented voice, using the smooth tone often used when talking to her, and smiling that full-on dimpled grin that made him look sweetly boyish.
And Caroline often hated him ten times more when turning that smile on her, because it was almost ten times harder to reject swiftly with that well known bitchy attitude. Also because boyish smiles from the murderous psychotic hybrid meant he'd come over to talk and be open with his emotions—thus making poor Caroline have to watch the hurt seep into those beautiful blue-green eyes for the hundredth time.
"What are you doing here?" her tone exasperated, half real and forced. Somehow this good-looking and difficultly layered man never failed to amuse and annoy her.
He started speaking, faintly brushing his index finger over one of the many drawings he'd gifted her, which sat on the dresser. "You know, sweetheart, I couldn't help but overhear something when stopping by the Grill last night—"
"To stalk me," she interjected strongly, but was ignored.
"—for a drink and to escape from my darling sister."
She took up her usual stance when dealing with Klaus—something of which that happened much too often, to both her joy and dread—meaning eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and arms crossed. His response to her silent demand? To simply raise a single haughty brow and shift those impossible raspberry lips into a smirk.
Blowing a gust of air from between her glossy lips that caused a few curls to flutter about, she relaxed her stance, allowing her shoulders to slightly droop. Caroline isn't a fool, as she far too often thinks of the rest of their little gang as, she's truly got absolutely nothing when it comes to Klaus Mikaelson—this man has lived for over a thousand years, while she has had a measly eighteen years total. If they're trying to play whatever game, this man knows every trick and probably helped to create more than half of them; this powerful immortal only gives answers and clues when he's feeling generous towards her—or feeling particularly sweet and feels the need to further his goal of wooing her.
The role of 'Klaus-bait' as Damon so lovingly refers to it, is utterly ridiculous; as are those who believe it even really works. He knows there is some part of her that's intrigued by him and has grown almost fond, and Caroline knows the most powerful supernatural being other than Silas has grown to love her and somehow knows her better than anyone else.
So…Caroline will back down, knowing that when Klaus truly wants something badly enough he won't bow out gracefully.
"And just what 'couldn't you help but overhear?'" Caroline asked resigned, looking at him from under lashes, unable to help it when her lips twist in the ghost of a smile. He returned it with one of his own, eyes lit up with the pleasure of her response to their thing.
Klaus' smile and the gleeful spark in his eyes disappeared as he began to talk once again; instead those lips of his thin and face starts showing primal anger. "Love, you and you're Bennett witch were talking about the doppelganger and the elder Salvatore," he gave her a pointed look here, making her eyes to widen and mouth to part. "I believe that she almost made it seem as if you'd been with that pathetic excuse of a vampire."
Oh God. Oh God. This was the last thing Caroline wanted to talk about ever, let alone with him. It was those kind of things that needed to forever stay within the past; Lord how she was going to strangle Bonnie when getting her tiny hands on her! This was all her fault!
"I've nothing to say about that," she told him waspishly, "now if you don't mind, I'd very much like to go on with my day as if you were never here."
"Is it really that shocking to think I'd ask about it, Caroline?" Klaus asks her, name rolling off his mouth like the first night as 'Klaus-bait' outside the Grill.
"Why does a possible relationship with Damon in the past matter to you? Hmmm, Klaus?"
His face suddenly switched to a shocking mixture of sadness and hurt—it made Caroline feel as if she'd suddenly been hit in the stomach. "It's more that you'd give him a chance and not me, when everyone, especially you, know that Damon Salvatore is the same, if not worse than me. So, tell me sweetheart, what makes me so terrible that I don't even get one chance?"
It was becoming too much; part of her tender heart wanted nothing more than to pull this broken man into her arms and just hold him, yet the more vicious part of Caroline almost finally hated this man for making her feel guilty over his own assumptions.
"I never gave Damon Salvatore a chance for anything," she told him finally, voice flat and harsh to her own ears. "I was a dumb human, who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Taken as part of Damon's crusade to make Stefan's life miserable. I was nothing more than a blood-bag and sex-toy to a vampire without emotions," Caroline finished with the slightest catch to her voice, watching how Klaus' face had gotten progressively more horrified with each word she spoke. Turning quickly she tried to hide the start of her tears from him.
"Caroline," his deep voice broke on her name, "love, I am…" he trailed off with a sorrowful sigh. "I am deeply sorry something such as that happened to you. How anyone could…I don't even begin to know."
"Like you've never done something of the sort over the years!" she spat back, wanting to, needing to lash out.
Klaus placed his large hands on her shoulders and lightly squeezed. "Sweetheart, never have I done something so disgusting in all my years. Anyone who has entered my bed has done so willingly, never under compulsion. I have no use for unwilling partners."
Caroline clearly saw the truth and sincerity of his words, it was an honest relief, while at the same time left chills in their wake. If the most dangerous man of their kind, part of the vampire legends, was worse than Damon… Well, she refused to think on it.
"I—I'm," she couldn't get anything to come out. Yet it seemed her companion understood.
"Shh, shh," he cooed softly, wiping her tears, "its ok now, you're ok now."
He rocked her until the tears became faint sniffles, never once letting go of her. Thankful for the end to the crying, Caroline was amused to find herself dismayed to discover how tired she was—knowing it meant the end to her hybrid stalker's current visit.
"Got to sleep, love," his voice holding a heavy tone of adoration. "I think you'll find yourself feeling much better if you go to sleep."
"M'kay," she mumbled into his shirt, while taking in the musky, woodsy, masculine scent of Klaus. "Thank you…for everything."
His boyish dimpled grin was back again, and brighter than ever. And from sleepy eyes, Caroline could swear love and joy was all that flickered in those blue-green eyes.
"And, your welcome for everything, sweetheart," he said fondly, leaning to gift her with the lightest of kisses on her brow, before slipping out her bedroom window and into the night as if he'd never been there.