Hello! :D I hope you guys watched TVD 100th episode! How did you feel about Klaroline's make out? The fact that Klaus is never going to come back kills me too! Anyhow, at least JP did present us klaroline. Shippppp to the end! Here's a new fanfic. If you're wondering about The Sleeping Fire, my computer died so I lost all my files. But this came up. If I find the inspiration to continue that fanfic I will definitely do it. Ugh my complicated mind.

A STAB of pain warned Caroline that she was developing a headache. Slowly she massaged her throbbing temples, closing her eyes to shut out the unwelcome sight of the cheque book lying open on the table. How could she have been so stupid as to forget to fill in the amount or who it was paid to? Somehow, it seemed she had, and the discovery sent the scales of her carefully balanced budget tilting dangerously. With a sigh, she took another bill from the pile and her heart lurched anew at the amount. It was from Dr Meredith, Candice's dentist, and was the first of many she could expect before her daughter's dental problems were solved.

The strident ring of the doorbell shattered her concentration. Bother! She would never get the statement balanced at this rate. She tried to ignore it, but it rang again, longer and more insistently this time. Slapping the pen down hard, she stalked to the front door, rehearsing the cutting things she would say to the salesman she expected to find there.

But the words died stillborn on her lips as she flung the door wide to reveal a strikingly attractive man leaning nonchalantly against the verandah post. The frank appraisal in his eyes startled her as his gaze wandered deliberately over every feature of her body. He was so tall that when he straightened up, her eyes were on a level with his shoulder, whose broad expanse was emphasised by the expensive-looking leather jacket he wore. From under a crop of thick, waving dirty blonde hair, his eyes shone diamond-bright green with a roguish and knowing air that both titillated and alarmed her. Whoever he was, he was certainly no salesman.

"Mrs Damon Salvatore?"

With an effort, she nodded. "Yes, but I'm afraid my husband died two years ago."

He did not seem surprised but went on studying her in the same disconcerting way, his lips curling into a mocking expression. "I know. It's really you I came to see. My name is Klaus Mikaelson."

So that was where she had seen him before, in the newspaper and on the television. Klaus Mikaelson was easily the wealthiest foreign man in the America, came from England. His flamboyant business deals and colourful romances were reported with equal enthusiasm by the press. Although their paths had never crossed, Caroline, along with every other female in Manhattan, had followed his exploits in prints, so she knew he owned one of the city's two casinos as well as a string of other properties around New York. What on earth could such a man want with her? Belatedly, she remembered her manners. "Won't you come in, Mr Mikaelson?" she invited.

The house seemed to shrink as he entered his height and build dwarfing the furniture. Like a territorial animal stalking its claim, he prowled the length and breadth of the living room, his sharp eyes missing nothing as his gaze rested for the nearest moment on the cheque stubs and bills littering the table.

Knowing she should say something but unable to find the words, Caroline waited while he completed his inspection, conscious that despite the alarm bells going off in her head, she was more painfully aware of this man than she had ever been of anyone. Her throat felt parched when she finally recovered her power of speech. "Please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank you. I shan't stay long. I was just curious to see what sort of woman Damon Salvatore was married to."

"I take it you knew my husband," Caroline said coldly, not sure why she felt so disturbed by his presence and wishing he would make his point.

"You could say that. He was in debt to my casino for eleven hundred thousand dollars."

Caroline gasped and clutched a hand to her mouth. Then common sense came to her aid. "We can't possibly be talking about the same man. My husband was no gambler!"

Klaus Mikaelson arched an eyebrow towards his hairline. "His name was Damon Guiseppe Salvatore."

A cold hand gripped Caroline's heart. Guiseppe had been Damon's mother's maiden name. "Perhaps someone was using my husband's name illegally?"

"It's possible, but somehow I doubt it," he said dryly. "However, we can settle that at once. Have you a photo of your late husband?"

Too shaken to speak, she walked over to the bookcase and picked up the photo album, handing it to Klaus. He riffled through the pages until he came to a snapshot of two men in American army uniform, their arms linked, then pointed to the taller man on the left. "Damon?" Caroline nodded. "Then there's no mistake, Mrs Salvatore." He stood up. "I'll be going now. I just wanted to see what his wife—what you—were like now. I just wanted to track you down. Damon gave a false address in Virginia, so it took some time to uncover the truth."

Caroline jumped to her feet, running a distracted hand through her long tumble of blonde hair, the gesture making the curls even more disorderly. "Wait—you can't come here and drop a bombshell like that and then just walk out! You may have answered all your questions, but you certainly haven't answered any of mine!"

He sat down again heavily, distaste mirrored on his even features. "Since you prefer to pretend ignorance, Mrs Salvatore, I will indulge you. Whenever your husband was in New York, he patronized my casino, in the NOLA Hotel."

"I know it," Caroline said dully, her mind a seething mass of conflicting emotions.

Klaus ignored the interruption. "Damon had a taste for large wagers. At first, his cheques were good for the amounts he owed. Then he offered deeds to his properties in Virginia as surely for the balance."

"But we don't own…"

"I know that now," he commented sourly. "Too late, I found out from my overseas associates that he was carrying out similar fraudulent activities outside America as well."

Caroline's mind was reeling. It couldn't be true, it couldn't! And yet there were all those times Damon had claimed to be working late, calling on clients in town. Looking at Klaus sitting so much as ease in her home as if it was a mere extension of his empire, she felt a wave of revulsion towards him for sowing such doubts in her mind. Luckily, the inner strength she had so determinedly nurtured since Damon's death came to her aid. "Mr Mikaelson," she said icily, "what purpose can it serve telling me all this now?"

He shrugged. "None, except to satisfy my curiosity. Frankly, I pictured you more as a hardbitten shrew who sat at home counting the takings while her husband was out doing the dirty work."

"That's enough, Mr Mikaelson!" Her outraged cry cut through the air like a whiplash, surprising even herself. With a supreme effort, she reined in her mounting fury. "Why should I feel compelled to explain myself to you, I can't imagine," she said when she could speak coherently again. "However, you have my word that I knew nothing of Damon's supposed activities, far less masterminding them."

His mocking expression clearly told her that the word of the swindler he believed her to be was of no value. Caroline realised then that she could never convince him she was innocent when he had obviously tried her and found her guilty in his own mind.

"I suppose you were hoping to get your money back," she added.

"Not much chance of that, is there? Such a debt can't be enforced against a widow, unless, of course, I could prove she had a hand in the whole business."

The thought that he might try to prove such a thing sent cold shivers down Caroline's spine. He couldn't find any proof, since none existed, but a powerful man like Klaus Mikaelson could make her life bearable if he chose.

Shrieks from the garden reminded her that Candice and her friend Kat were playing not far away. At all costs, Candice must not hear any of this. Anxiously, almost pleading, she asked Klaus to leave.

He rose easily. "As you like, Mrs Salvatore. But don't think you've heard the last of me. Despite your fragile looks and protestations of innocence, I can't believe you could ne so ignorant of your husband's affairs. Now I know where to find you I'll be doing some more checking. Good day for the present."

The door clicked shut behind him and Caroline was left standing alone in the middle of the living room, every nerve jumping. She hadn't even shaken hands with him, yet she felt as if his very presence had sullied her. She rubbed her palms against the sides of her dress. The nerve of the man, to suggest that Damon had been a swindler and then to accuse her of being an accomplice! He had all but told her she didn't know her own husband, which was patently absurd!

But was it? A shudder racked her slender frame as she was forced to admit to herself how strained things had been between her and Damon after he came home from Vietnam. Oh, outwardly, he was the same, slimmer and more muscular perhaps, but with the same boyish looks and haircut. It was inside that he had changed most. The spark of devilment which drove him to play silly jokes on her and Candice was completely extinguished. The moments when he romped on the lawn with his child grew fewer and finally stopped altogether. Yes, there had been changes she admitted reluctantly, but surely nothing that would alter his whole attitude to life?

She smiled as she recalled how happy Damon had been when he got the job with NY Airway. Selling light planes was something he felt sure he could do and it gave him an opportunity to keep up his flying skills which were in danger of growing rusty after he left the army. It seemed to Caroline that after the long month of aimless drifting during which it looked as if he would be unable to settle to anything, he had finally regained a sense of direction. The new job meant he would have to travel a lot both within America and sometimes to Asia, his knowledge of that region being one of the reasons why he had got the job. But Caroline was quite used to him being away at times, so she knew she could cope, and then they would be able to go with him some of the time.

She remembered as if it was yesterday how excited they were when he came home and announced that there were all going to an air show at Los Angeles.

"Of course, that's if you can stand having me as your pilot."

She hugged him and in response, he swung her around, lifting her feet off the floor. "I can stand it," she laughed. "When do we leave?"

At first, the trip was like a second honeymoon. Several graziers showed keen interest in Damon's planes during the exhibition before the show and it looked as though at least one of the sales would be a certainty. It was only when the aerial demonstrations got under way that things began to go so badly awry.

The display opened with a fly-past of delta-winged Air Force jets which roared overhead in impressively close formation. Candice watched them go and bounced up and down excitedly in Caroline's arms. "Daddy! Daddy!"

Caroline smiled and nodded. Damon couldn't know how often she and Candice had watched the sky while he was away, and she had said to the little girl. "Look, Daddy's in one of those." Now Candice remembered. But the glow of happiness drained from Caroline's face as she looked at Damon. His face was drawn in an expression of agony and teeth were clenched. One hand gripped the edge of a table with such force that his knuckles were white. As the planes went over again he flinched and hunched forward as if it was taking an effort of will not to throw himself down on the ground.

"Damon—Damon, what is it? What's the matter?" She had to say his name several times before he responded, then he reacted like a man emerging from a terrible dream. He shook his head as if to clear it and looked at her at first without recognition.

"What? Oh, I'm alright."

"No, you're not," she contradicted. "It was the planes, wasn't it? Do they remind you of the war?"

His face darkened and his fury in his expression made her suddenly fearful. "I told you, I'm O.K. Why make a big thing out of it?" Before she could say anything more, he announced that he was going to get a drink and strode off.

Nonplussed, she watched him go, bitting her lip to stop the tears from coming. She felt goaded to movement, any movement, and put Candice down. "Let's go and get you come ice cream." The little girl nodded vigorously and slipped her hand in Caroline's as they went in search of the refreshment tent.

For the rest of the day, Caroline waited anxiously for some sign of apology or explanation from Damon, but it was as if he was unaware of the devastating effect his words had had on her. When he did speak, it was with a mechanical quality which reminded her of his plane flying on auto-pilot—going through all the right motions, but to see him like this, but any attempt to get through to him only ended in rebuff.

By the time they returned to their motel she was exhausted both from the day's event and from the nervous tension that stretched between them like a tightrope wire. So she was relieved when he announced he was going out with some people he had met earlier in the day. She was not so pleased when she saw the type of men who came to collect him in their car. Both of them were smooth and fast-talking, and one of them eyed her with frank appreciation, but if Damon noticed, he said nothing. It seemed they were frequent patrons of some sort of club in the area and they had offered to introduce Damon there. The shady character of the whole thing worried Caroline, but Damon was in no mood to listen to her misgivings. With a perfunctory kiss, he left her standing at the motel door.

It was the second time that day that she had been forced to watch him depart, and the sense of desolation she felt was overwhelming. She was only losing him for an evening, she told herself sternly. So why did it feel she was losing him for ever?

"Mommy, where are you?"

She turned slowly back inside to tuck Candice in for the night. Even though she was half asleep already after her exhausting day, the little girl was determined not to be cheated of her usual bedtime story. It was just as well, she thought, for the activity was just what she needed to forestall the awful feeling of the foreboding which hung over her like a cloud. Damon would soon be home, she told herself as she settled down with a book at Candice's bedside.

But he did not return until the early hours of next morning, when he did, she was horrified at his appearance. If it had been any other man, she would have said he was drunk, except that Damon drank very little. Rather, she thought he seemed drunk on excitement. His eyes were hard and glittering and his face was unusually flushed. When he climbed into bed beside her, he held her close to him with a ferocity that was frightening. And when he made love to her for the first time in many weeks, it was none of his usual tenderness and consideration.

"What was the club like?" she asked him much later.

"Oh, the usual sort of crowd," he said evasively. "You know."

No, she didn't know. All she knew was the next day he took her and Candice into LA and insisted on buying complete new outfits of clothes for them both. When she voiced her concern about the cost he showed her his wallet bulged with notes. "You know the grazier who couldn't make up him mind about the order?" She nodded. "Well, I met him again at the club last night and he not only decided to buy the plane, he persuaded his neighbour to buy one too. They signed the orders on the spot and I talked the LA office into paying me the two commissions this morning. Happy now?"

He seemed so anxious to obtain her approval that she hugged him. "Of course I'm happy. Congratulations, darling!"

She has no reason to doubt that he was telling the truth. After all, the grazier had been very interested. It was unusual for Damon's commissions to be paid in advance of the planes being delivered, she thought, but then she admitted she really knew very little about how the business was conducted.

Now, as the pieces came tumbling into place, she thought what a fool she had been not to probe more deeply. She might have been able to help Damon then, at the start…before it was too late.

He had never brought them with him on business trip again, although his visits interstate and to Asia became more frequent. Sometimes he did not come home even when his business was in New York. She recalled the times he told her he had to stay overnight at a hotel in town to close a deal with some station owner or visiting businessman. At first, she urged him to bring his customers home—she would willingly have played hostess for him. But she completed accepted his explanation that these men were all wealthy, accustomed to the best of everything, so she could hardly expect them to stay in a suburban bungalow. He told her they expected to be wined and dined in style in return for their considerable business favours.

In those days, money was never the pervasive problem it had become lately. Although there was never quite as much left over as Caroline used to think there should be given the amount of time and energy Damon was putting into his work. He has become almost fanatical about seeing that bills were paid on time, especially the mortgage on their modest house, purchased before he went away. She recalled one incident which, until now, had made no sense to her. She had been nursing Candice through about of measles and had been unable to leave the house for a week, when Damon came home and handed her a bundle of notes.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"This month's commission. I want you to see it's paid off the house. Will you do that?"

There was urgency in his tone that baffled her. "Well, yes, but I won't be able to go to the bank for a few more day yet. Couldn't you pay it when you're in town?"

The dark haunted look had returned to his face. "Can't you ever do anything I ask?" he demanded roughly. When he saw how hurt and puzzled she looked at this, he seemed to relent. "Keep it," he said more gently. "There're several months payments there. Fix it up when you get a chance ok?"

Caroline nodded shakily. "Alright, darling, if it's that important to you."

He took her in his arms in a fiercely enveloping embrace which left her breathless. "It is important to me. You must remember, no matter what happens, I love you and Candice more than anything else in the world."

No matter what happens. It had seemed a strange sort of thing for him to say, but he brushed it aside as being unimportant when she asked him about it. Then, soon after, he went off on another business trip, and a week later a policeman came to the house to tell her that Damon had been found dead in his hotel room.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory. If only Damon had allowed her to help him instead of trying to carry all his burdens alone! A great sigh which was a half-sob shook her. Damn Klaus Mikaelson! If he hadn't come here with his vile accusations, she wouldn't be thinking like this. At once a wave of guilt washed over her as she realised how easily she had begun to doubt Damon. After all, it was only Klaus Mikaelson's word against Damon's, and he was not able to defend himself.

She was shaken by the strength of emotions warring within her. Klaus Mikaelson was hateful beyond belief to come here and make such accusations against Damon. They were not true, they couldn't be—she was letting Damon memory down even allowing herself to think in this way.

And yet there was something about Klaus Mikaelson that encouraged faith in him. Even now, she was unable to break free of the memory of his compelling eyes and the menace of his mocking smile.

Her eye was drawn to something white and shining on the hall table, and she found herself moving towards it as if hypnotised. At last she reached out a trembling hand and picked up the business card Klaus Mikaelson had dropped contemptuously as he left. Holding it between thumb and forefinger as if it could bite, she noticed the elegance of the raised gold printing which introduced the owner as Niklaus Mikael Mikaelson, Managing Director of Mikaelson International Corporation. His address and telephone number were also on the card.

"Mommy, can Kat and I have some orange juice?"

With a start, Caroline dropped the card back into the ashtray where it lay staring up at her in mute accusation.

"Mommy, what's the matter?"

She wrenched her eyes away from the card and fixed a reassuring smile on her face as she turned to her daughter. "I'm alright, darling. You go and pour yourself a drink."

"Thanks!" Candice rushed off again towards the kitchen, her haste causing her to skid on the polished floor like an unco-ordinated puppy. In spite of the turmoil raging within her, Caroline was forced to smile, then she frowned again as she thought of the hurt Klaus could inflict on her child with just a word.

The doorbell rang again and Caroline jumped. "It's only me," said a cheery voice, and Caroline sagged against the wall as she recognized her dear friend.

"Bonnie, I'm so glad it's you!"'

The other woman studied her in alarm. "What's up, Care? You're white as a ghost. Have the children been a handful?"

"No, it's not that. Kat's never any trouble."

"Then, what is it? Something's given you a shock, and you know I won't give up till you tell me what it was."

Bonnie's sympathy and concern were too much. All at once, Caroline's shaky defences collapsed. To her horror, she began to cry and found, once she started, she was unable to stop. Without a word, Bonnie put a supporting arm around her shoulder and led her to the couch. A handkerchief appeared from somewhere and Caroline buried her face in its folds. The sobs seemed to come from the depths of her being and she clung to Bonnie like a small child as the other woman stroked her hair and murmured soothing words. Their sense didn't reach her, but the reassuring tone gradually had its effect. At last the tears subsided. Between choking back sobs, Caroline recounted the details of Klaus Mikaelson's visit and shocking news he brought.

Bonnie's voice seemed to come from far away. "You had to find out the truth some time."

Horrified, Caroline pulled away from her and sat up shoulders still heaving. "What did you just say?"

Bonnie looked down at the floor. "There were some things you didn't know about Damon," she said softly.

"You mean you knew, and you didn't tell me?"

"How could I, Care? You were head over heels in love. You wouldn't have believed me anyway."

This last stabbed at Caroline's core. It was all too true. The years she had spent as Damon's wfe, both the interlude before he went to Vietnam and the two years afterwards, had passed in a romantic haze. Now that dream world was crumbling into ashes. "You'd better tell me the rest," she said flatly.

"No, Care, not me. Besides, I don't know the whole story." Bonnie stood up decisively. "You and Candice are coming home with us tonight and Jeremy can tell you the truth. He always felt you should know. I was the one who wanted to protect you. I only hope, now, you can forgive me for it."

To see her normally effervescent friend so downcast tore at Caroline's already ragged headstrings. Impulsively, she hugged Bonnie. "I know you did what you thought best."

Bonnie nodded, her eyes brimming with grateful tears. She brushed them aside impatientily and hurried outside to round up the two girls playing on the swing. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Caroline pushed a few things for them both into an overnight bag and went to join Bonnie at the car.

Normally, the Gilberts household was a riotous centre of happy laughter, children's shrieks and intense discussions at maximum volume. Today, the atmosphere was charged with tension as Bonnie reported the afternoon's events to her husband. Exhausted after her recent outburst, Caroline could only nod agreement as Bonnie urged Jeremy to tell her the whole story.

But it was not until the children were settled into bed for the night that he was able to satisfy her desire. She settled back in the cane chair and waited, not at all sure she wanted to have her cherished illusions shattered beyond repair, but knowing she would have no peace of mind until she knew the truth.

Restively, Jeremy wandered around the room, nervousness making his limp more pronounced than usual. Finally, he braced his back against the side of the dining table and turned to Caroline. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you, Caroline. You know what you mean to Bonnie and me. But it's true, Damon was a compulsive gambler."

Caroline stifled a sob and clenched her hands tightly together. You wanted to hear it all, she told herself sternly. "Go on," she whispered.

"He always liked a flutter, even before we went to Vietnam. But he managed to keep it under control. Besides, as a single man in the Army, he had nobody to spend his money but himself. Then when he married you, he tried very hard to do the right thing by you and Candice. I think he would have succeeded if it hadn't been for the war."

Abruptly, Jeremy started pacing again, unable to still the restlessness that always overcame him when he spoke of those years. The dragging legs served to emphasize his next words. "The war was just too much for Damon. He cared too much. The dirt, the poverty, the disease—nobody who hasn't experienced it can possibly imagine what it can do to a man." The eyes he turned to Caroline were filled with pain. "It damn near destroyed me. And it did destroy Damon." Jeremy gestured towards the walking stick that was never far from his hand. "Damon's scars weren't as obvious as mine, but they were there. When he came back he just wanted to get away from his memories and the best way he knew how was at the gaming table."

Caroline's face drained of colour. "If only he'd confided in me!"

"He was ashamed of his weakness, Caroline. He was terribly afraid of losing your love and respect, so he kept it from you. I tried to help and advise him, but my pension didn't stretch to the kind of debts he ran up. The job he took after he left the Army didn't help, either. Travelling all over the way he did gave him too many opportunities to gamble."

"But eleven hundred thousand dollars—how could he have lost so much? And Klaus Mikaelson said he wasn't the only one Damon owed money to."

Jeremy gave her a wry look. "It doesn't take very long to go through money in a casino, not if you're on a losing streak. In Vegas, we watched men throw away hundred thousands of dollars in a few hours."

Caroline felt a strange calm descending on her. Her first turbulent reaction seemed to have burnt themselves out, passing over like the eye of a hurricane and leaving a passing over like the eye of a hurricane and leaving a detached coolness in its wake. Now she felt a compelling need to know every detail, to be purged of any remaining areas of doubt. "But how, Jeremy?" she persisted. "I mean, what was Damon's weakness—cards?"

"Sometimes. Mostly, it was roulette. I remembered how he seemed almost hypnotised by the spinning wheel. In the Army, he used to say the sound of that little ball going around reminded him of distant gunfire. Once he said he gave it money as a sort of sacrifice, to appease it so it would leave him alone. I thought he was joking then, although I always thought it was a strange thing to say."

Caroline looked down at her hands, folder so primly in her lap. "But he wasn't joking, was he?"

Jeremy reached for his stick and began to pace again, slowly and thoughtfully. "No, he wasn't joking. He knew he was drawn to the tables, but he didn't seem to realise it was an addiction. He always said he was going to give it up, and I thought he had once he was back home with you and Candice. Then about a year after we got back, he started again. I don't know what triggered it off, but I knew he was back at it again because of the way he was acting. When I asked him about it, he tried to deny it, but I'd seen him like that before."

A year after he came home? So she'd guessed right. Haltingly, she told them about remembering the experience at the air show, and Damon's reaction to the military fly-past.

"I'd say that did it," Jeremy agreed. "Probably brought back everything he was trying to push from his mind."

Recalling Damon's flushed face and glittering eyes after he returned from the club, Caroline knew Jeremy was right. The excitement and challenge of gambling had been the catharsis he needed to lay the ghosts called up by the planes flying over. If only it had all been so clear to her then.

Bonnie looked from Caroline to Jeremy, her expression clearly puzzled. "Look, I can understand how he managed to get away with it interstate and overseas, where he wasn't known. But this was going on for almost a year, in New York too. Didn't anyone recognise him, or try to help him?"

"How many people in our circle do you know who can afford to patronise the NOLA Hotel?" Jeremy asked. When Bonnie shook her head, he continued, "He probably went there once or twice quite innocently, with customers. It's the sort of place you would expect to be taken if you were going to spend millions on a new plane. And as long as Damon was winning, there'd be no problem. It would only be when he went back on his own, and began to lose, that he would have to give a name, to obtain a credit."

Caroline twisted the tissue into a tight ball and gripped it convulsively between her fingers. "Klaus Mikaelson did say he gave a false name and an address in Virginia," she admitted. "He said he used title deeds to imaginary properties in Virginia as surely for loans."

"Surely he would have needed identifications," speculated Bonnie.

Jeremy nodded. "That's true, but people feeding on addiction become awfully cunning about it. Besides, Caroline says he was mixing with some dubious types in LA. Maybe he learned a few things from them."

"So it would seem," Bonnie responded dryly.

"I can't believe all this applies to Damon!" Caroline burst out. "He always said he loved me and Candice."

Bonnie moved over to perch on the arm of the chair and put a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Now that's one thing you must never doubt," she said firmly. "Whatever weaknesses Damon may have had, he was devoted to you and Candice. Why do you think he was so insistent on the house being in your name and you making the payments—because he cared about you so much."

The calm was over and the gathering storm broke at last. Tears welled in Caroline's eyes and she began to shake uncontrollably. "I know," she whispered. "He didn't trust himself to make the payments, so he forced me to do it, to stop him using the money for..for anything else. Oh, Bonnie, to think I never even suspected what he was going through." One final question burned in Caroline's brain. She was desperately afraid of the answer, but the question had to be asked. "Jeremy, tell me, do you think he took his own life?"

Jeremy's tone was harsh but positive. "No, don't ever even think it. Damon was weak, but he was no coward. I know he was having trouble sleeping and taking pills to try to get some rest. I think he was so mixed up he just didn't realise how many he'd taken. You have to believe that too."

"I do, Jeremy, of course. I've never really doubted that. Nothing you've told me can change the love I had for Damon, but I'm glad I know it all now." Weighed down with sadness for a dream that could never be restored. Caroline bowed her head and wept silently, not for herself this time but for Damon, who had loved her too much to let her share his tragic secret. At last she looked up, facing Bonnie and Jeremy with her chin held high and her eyes alight with a new crusading quality. "Tomorrow, I'm going to call on Mr Klaus Mikaelson," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm going to pay him back every cent that Damon owed him."

Bonnie was baffled. "But why? You said he can't enforce the debt."

"It's the only way I can make him believe that I was not involved in Damon's activities. As long as he thinks I was, he could decide to make the truth public, and I can't risk that, for Candice's sake. She idolised her father, or the man she believes he was. The truth would destroy her."

"But how will you ever find eleven hundred thousands? Jeremy and I would help you if we could, you know that but there's no way we could find that sort of money."

Caroline squeezed Bonnie's hand. "I know. You two have done more that I can ever repay already."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, but somehow I'll find a way."

Sooooo—how do you guys feel about this new fanfic? I'm sorry to trash you with lots of flashback in one chapter. Well, this is about klaroline, so I've got to get it straight to the point and not drag it. I don't despise Damon but he was the only one I could use as the late husband character. I ship Damon x Elena; so yeah..have to kill his character at the very start cause I don't plan to write about Elena. I can't handle so many characters. But the story is mainly KLAROLINE. My biggest ship! As you read, we have Bonnie x Jeremy. I'm still contemplating whether to bring all the originals into the story, probably not all. I'll see. More of Klaus and Caroline interaction the next chapter. :D

Thank you for reading!