I shouldn't really be starting this story right now but the idea came to me while at work last night and wouldn't leave me alone so I started writing. This is just a brief introduction to the story, set in current day. The story itself will eventually jump back and forth between past and present but the past will always be italicized so you'll know when it's coming. Let me know what you think. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything TVD-related or MoMa.
Caroline walked up the steps of MoMa and stared at the building in front of her. She hadn't been in a museum in five years—with good reason—so she wasn't entirely sure why she'd agreed to meet her blind date here, except that it was public so if things got awkward or he was a total weirdo, she could easily bail. With a sigh, she continued towards the doors to go inside.
"Afternoon, miss," the man at the ticket counter greeted her pleasantly. "Just one?"
"Yes," she nodded. Through email, she and her date had agreed they would pay for themselves, as it was a first date and they'd never met before.
"It's a nice day to be alone here," he told her. "Quiet, not many kids around." He took her money and handed her a ticket. "Enjoy yourself."
"Thank you," she murmured, grabbing a map from the display in front of his window before walking out to the lobby. Her date, Jon, had requested she meet him at Monet's Water Lilies triptych so she set off, following the map towards her destination.
As she neared the famed painting, she noticed a small crowd gathered around what was apparently a new addition to the museum. She walked over to see what the fuss was about just as the other people walked away.
What she found stopped her heart. It was a landscape, painted mostly in shades of blue and green, of what appeared to be some stretch of land from above the ground. To others the work would just be beautiful to look at, just The View from Heaven, as it was titled, but Caroline knew better. She'd seen it for most of her life.
"Excuse me, Caroline?"
She turned to see an attractive man standing behind her, wearing khakis and a white Oxford button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. "Jon?"
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he smiled.
"You, too," she murmured, still distracted by the painting.
"It's incredible," he spoke, standing beside her. "The way the artist uses the colors to really create what it must look like from Heaven." He eyed the plaque beside the frame. "It says it's by 'Anonymous.'"
Caroline smirked. "Of course it does."
"What, do you not like when an artist doesn't put their name on their work?" he asked.
"No, it's not that," she shook her head. "I just happen to know the artist who did this and he would absolutely put 'Anonymous' to get more attention."
Jon raised an eyebrow questioningly. "How can you know that?"
"Because that view, the one that claims to be from Heaven, is actually the view from my old bedroom in Virginia," she explained confidently, knowing the line of trees to the lake as plain as day.
"Is the artist an old boyfriend or something?" he wondered.
Caroline finally turned to him once more. "I guess in our emails we never mentioned much about who we are so let my introduce myself. My name is Caroline Mikaelson and the small signature there, the 'NK' in the corner he thinks no one will see, stands for Niklaus Mikaelson, who just so happens to be my ex-husband."
"I see," Jon muttered uncomfortably. "I didn't realize you were divorced; Bonnie didn't mention that."
"Bonnie doesn't know," she shrugged. "She's my closest friend in New York but I've only been here for six months so I haven't shared all the intimate details of my life with her. I was young, we were dumb, and it ended five years ago. This painting is actually the first proof I've had since we split up that he's even alive because it's been total radio silence since I was twenty."
He laughed nervously. "Well, that doesn't mean he might've been dead."
Caroline frowned. "You don't know Nik. Or his father," she added quietly. "But enough about him. Should we move on?"
Sensing that she did seem to have moved on from her past, Jon offered his elbow. "Let's."
Downstairs, the door to the curator's offices opened and Steven Harris, MoMa's director of operations, led the young couple out into the lobby. "Mr. Mikaelson, we so look forward to the gala on Friday."
"Yes, I do, as well," Klaus nodded.
"How about you, Miss Petrova?" Steven asked of Klaus' companion.
Tatia looked at him. "Oh, I'm sure it will be lovely."
"If you'll both follow me, I'll show the room where the dinner will be held," Steven offered as he headed for the grand staircase near the center of the room.
Klaus took Tatia's hand and followed after him. "Come along, Tatia."
"How long will this take?" she whined. "I need to get my nails done this afternoon."
He sighed in annoyance. "This is important to me, darling. Can't you feign interest for just one more hour?"
"Whatever," she grumbled.
Caroline and Jon were admiring a piece by Marc Chagall when they heard footsteps behind them.
"The dinner will be served just through here," a man was saying. "This room is closest to where your exhibit will be displayed, Mr. Mikaelson."
Caroline froze at the name. She stopped mid-sentence and turned around quickly, only to come face-to-face with Klaus for the first time in five years.
The initial look of shock left his face almost immediately as he settled into his infamous smirk. "Hello, love."
Caroline stared at him for a long moment before quickly hurrying away, praying to God that this was all a terrible nightmare that she would wake up from shortly. When she realized it wasn't, she did the next most comforting thing possible: she sat down on the nearest bench and began to cry.