Fallen
A.N. I'm so glad you all were intrigued by the first chapter! I know it wasn't much to go on, but as with most stories, exposition is the worst part, but it must be done. But for shizzle, your responses have been so incredible. You all are the best ever. Period.
Thanks to Leah, Becky, and Miranda for their help with this chapter. They talked me off a ledge when I thought about discontinuing it, so please shower them with love and affection.
As always, I'll see you guys at the bottom. Enjoy!
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"Let's move these pieces to the south parlor. I want the Deveraux exhibit to be the at the forefront this weekend, and I'm worried the other pieces will overshadow it and make it seem a bit too cluttered."
Klaus Mikaelson gestured towards the artwork that adorned the walls around him as he spoke to his assistant, his brow furrowed as he let his gaze shift from frame to frame.
Sire Studios was one of the most prestigious art galleries in the southern United States. Priding itself on showcasing "A Different Kind of Art," it housed the works of both well known and amateur artists, launching names and careers as well as fetching the highest prices for one of a kind works of art. Landscapes, portraits, abstracts-there was no prejudice at what graced the walls beneath the high vaulted ceilings.
As an artist himself, Klaus was all too familiar with the push and pull that came with showcasing your art. He had lost count of how often his works at been rejected by gallery after gallery, always citing something different. He was too "fresh," too eclectic, too dark. There wasn't enough clout behind his name to garner the kind of attention they wanted. They catered to a certain kind of clientele, and his work just wasn't up to par with their expectations.
"You want to move them all to the back?" Dean asked, his thumbs hovering over the keys of his Blackberry as he raised a brow at his employer. Klaus turned to him, and he shrugged, pursing his lips. "Doesn't it make more sense to get the hot pieces sold first? We've had Sophie's pieces for months. She's not quite the prize winning item at the moment."
Klaus smiled at him, laughing softly under his breath as he stepped towards him. "That's the point, mate," he said. "These pieces are fresh. They're vibrant and new. People will clamor for them. They'll bid and bicker over them, but they'll sell because they've not been seen. They will have time to be showcased. They'll have their own spotlight. It's the older pieces that need it now." He sighed, turning back to the row of photographs hung onto walls behind him. "Sophie's brilliant. She's...deep and intuitive. She can tell her own story through a camera lens and have the viewer follow along with rapt attention. She's sees the beauty in the dark." He glanced back at Dean, raising his eyebrows. "It would be a travesty if she didn't get her time to shine."
Dean nodded, his eyes dropping to the device in his hands as he smiled. "You're the boss."
Klaus chuckled, shaking his head. "Just the man behind the curtain," he said, turning and beginning to make his way down the hall. "The real ones in charge are those that put their genius in my-damn!" He growled under his breath as his footing stumbled, a sharp pain beginning to radiate from the arch of his foot despite the soled shoes he wore.
He lifted his foot, stepping back to glare at the offending item he'd landed on, and bending down to pick up the detached airplane wing. He let out an audible sigh, straightening to his full height and clutching the piece of plastic in his hand. "Declan!"
He listened as the tiny pitter patter of footsteps resounded down the hallway, his eyes raising when the small form rounded the corner. He watched as the young boy made his way towards him, his small hands holding tightly to a model airplane, wide brown eyes staring up at him. His black and white tennis shoes squeaked against the porcelain floor as he stopped in front of him, the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt hanging loosely down his arms as he swayed back and forth slightly.
Klaus bent down, dropping to one knee as he met the boy at eye level, holding out the piece of his toy that had found its way into his path. "What have I told you about leaving your toys out in the open like this?" he asked, his voice stern yet quiet. Declan's brown eyes searched his face before dropping to the piece of plastic in his hand. "You know someone could get hurt if they trip over this."
The small tow headed boy nodded, slowly reaching out and taking the toy from his outstretched hand. He sighed as Declan raised his eyes towards him again, and he dropped his arm so it rested on his knee. "Just be more careful."
"Declan Oliver Mikaelson, you best come back here this instant!"
There was a flurry of heels tapping against the floor before a blur of blonde hair and red silk raced around the corner, skidding to a stop as blue eyes took in the scene before her. The blonde woman rested a hand against the wall beside her, letting out a sigh as she huffed. "I look away for one second and you dash away."
Klaus rose to his full height, his hand brushing the boy's shoulder briefly as he stood, and he looked over at the new arrival, raising a brow as he took in her harried appearance. "I thought you said you were going to keep an eye on him, Rebekah."
The blonde rolled her eyes, throwing her arms out at her sides as she crossed her way towards them, the red silk dress rustling against her legs with every step. "It's not like he ran out into traffic," she said, stopping behind the boy and resting her hands on his shoulders, giving them an affectionate squeeze. "A game of Hide-and-Seek just got a bit out of control. Nothing to throw a complete fit about."
"Except for nearly breaking my leg tripping over one of his toys."
"So he left a bit of them out," Rebekah said. "He's five years old, Nik. Honestly, he doesn't know any better."
"He needs to," Klaus insisted, glancing down at Declan to see his attention riveted on the airplane as he attempted to replace the detached wing. "We're lucky it was me that tripped over it and not some visiting curator. This is a place of business, Bekah, not a playground."
The blonde woman sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, then, Mr. Grumpypants, we'll be off then." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Declan's head, ruffling his blonde curls as she smirked up at her brother. "Honestly, Deck, your father is a total drama queen."
Klaus rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
Declan nodded as his aunt reached down and took his hand in hers, and he lifted his head to look at her. "Can we get ice cream?" he asked quietly, his voice barely creating an echo throughout the room.
"Yes," Rebekah answered as Klaus simultaneously replied, "No." Both siblings glared as they met each other's gazes.
"Well, you're not in charge tonight," Rebekah sang, her lips pulling up into a satisfied smirk. "You are choosing to go out with our good for nothing brothers, which means your son is in my capable hands, and his dietary decisions are all mine to make. Therefore, yes, Declan, we will be getting ice cream, and we will enjoy every delicious moment of it."
Declan smiled as his aunt spoke, his fingers tightening around her hand as he swung his head around to look at his father. His brown eyes gazed up at him, silently asking his father's permission despite his aunt's overruling.
Klaus sighed, smiling down at the boy reluctantly. "Go on then," he relented, shaking his head. "The inevitable sugar rush is on your head, sister, so do keep that in mind when you're loading him full of it."
He watched as the two smiled at each other, Rebekah's blonde hair bouncing against her shoulders as she twirled on her heels, tugging the small boy behind her as they started for the door. "Bye, Daddy," she called over her shoulder, smirking smugly at him.
He rolled his eyes, turning to make his way back over to Dean who had nonchalantly crossed to the other side of the gallery during their family confrontation, but he stopped at the quiet calling of "Daddy," from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Rebekah holding open the door to the gallery, glancing down at Declan as he stood staring at him, his small fingers tracing the edges of the airplane in his hands.
"I'm sorry about my airplane," he said quietly.
Klaus' eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips, and he nodded. "It's okay, son," he replied, watching the boy's expression brighten slightly as he spoke. "I'll see you tomorrow."
His son smiled, biting his lower lip as he turned and followed Rebekah out the door, his happy voice declaring his preference of ice cream flavor before the closing of the door cut him off.
Klaus stood staring after them for a long moment, that odd ache in his chest that occurred every time Declan left with someone who wasn't him thrumming deeply, before he shook his head and cleared his throat, turning towards Dean and lifting his chin towards the photographs on display.
"Right then, let's get a move on."
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Night always seemed to be the hardest.
Thoughts and memories came unbidden when she lied in the darkness. Threats and fights and images of red stained carpet crept into the inner recesses of her mind, making her break into a sweat and panic that the shadows creeping across the room were more than just shadows.
She feared night the most; she feared that in the darkness, that when she would be found.
Bonnie hadn't been exaggerating when she mentioned the odd hours she kept. It had barely been an hour after she'd settled into the apartment before the other girl had hurried out the door, a backpack slung across her shoulder and an apologetic smile on her face as she mentioned heading to the University for some much needed study time.
Caroline had stood in the living room of her new apartment, staring at the traces of a life Bonnie Bennett had spent years living-without fear, without judgement, without worry chasing after her every second. She found herself envious of the young medical student, and overwhelmed with the idea that perhaps this wasn't a life that was out of her reach. Maybe there was a chance she could overcome everything. Just disappear and start anew.
If her money didn't run out first.
After handing Bonnie her half of the rent and deposit, Caroline had been disheartened to see that her funds were running thin.
She supposed that's how she found herself walking down the middle of Bourbon Street, her eyes taking in the never ending flurry of activity that passed her by. Music still poured from the buildings, people still danced in the street. Street performers sang and painted and danced, surrounded by onlookers and enthusiasts.
This really was the city that never slept, she thought to herself.
She followed the winding streets, lost in her own thoughts and memories. It amazed her how uncomfortable she could be in her own skin. How every glance from a passing stranger had her grip tightening around her chest, wondering if the secret she carried with really was a secret. She knew there was no way they could know what she was running from. She knew there was no way they were able to tell her every step was cautious and calculated, weighing every option and movement. There was no way they could tell she running half blind and terrified.
But that still didn't stop the darkness from swallowing her anyway.
Caroline rounded the corner, coming to a stop when a laughing couple poured out the door of a building, arms entangled and hands pulling at jackets and hair, completely oblivious to anything and everything around them but each other. She took a step back as they stumbled towards her, their drunken, whispered declarations ringing much louder than she was sure they meant for them to, bringing a smile to her lips and making her giggle. She shook her head, bringing her eyes back to the establishment they'd come from.
La Guérison.
The flashing neon lettering did little to diminish the bar's old time feel. Large towering pillars shadowed the arching doorway, the familiar chorus of a Kings of Leon song pouring from within. Signs in the window boasted their preferred choices of alcohol, and invited patrons in to sample their "World Famous Gumbo." But it was the small, red sign tucked into the furthest corner of the window that caught her eye.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, Caroline drew a breath and stepped over the threshold of the bar, letting her eyes adjust to the brighter lighting and bustling crowd that seemed just as lively as the ones raiding the streets.
Her eyes scoured the room as she slowly meandered her way towards the bar, sliding her jacket off her shoulders and draping it across her arm. There was a small group of college aged people huddled in the far corner, beers in one hand and darts in another as they clamored to take the next shot.
Laughing crowds of people littered the tables, conversations intermixing with the others going on around them, every voice trying to be heard over the music pouring from the speakers hanging from the ceiling. Framed artwork adorned the walls-vibrant oil painting depicting Mardi Gras celebrations and vivid sunsets.
She reached the bar, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the blonde bartender work furiously behind the counter, her hands passing out drinks and receipts faster than she could keep track of. Her hair flew around her shoulders with every twist and turn, her smile unfleeting as she wished every patron a good night, stuffing crinkled bills into the apron pocket on her waist.
Caroline offered her a smile when she turned in her direction, and she slid onto a stool, flattening her hands against the bar top. As the bartender made the short distance to her end of the bar, her eyes caught sight of the name tag pinned to her breast. "Camille?"
The bartender laughed, glancing at her nametag before raising her head and offering her a smile in return. "It's Cami, please. Camille is a bit too Grandma a name for my taste. I hope you're not here for the gumbo, because I'm about to break your heart. We just ran out."
Caroline shook her head. "No, actually, I'm Caroline, I'm here about the...sign in the window. The one asking for help?"
"Oh, great," Cami smiled, her gaze automatically traveling to the sign in question before returning to her, her head tilting to the sign as she regarded her. "Do you have much bartending experience? As you can see, it gets pretty crazy in here sometimes."
"Well, I haven't bartended, but I worked as a waitress during the summer at the restaurant in my hometown."
Cami nodded, cocking her jaw slightly as her eyes raked her over, and Caroline could feel her heart sink in her chest. She opened her mouth to elaborate more on her limited past experience, but stopped short when a tall figure shuffled up to the bar next to her, smacking down a $20 bill and smirking up at Cami, his legs crossing at the ankles behind him.
"Another round please, Cami-cakes, if you'd be so kind."
Caroline looked over when the accented voice crooned, taking in the young, rakish man that stood next to her. His handsome face was alight with amusement as he grinned, dark brown eyes dancing with mirth and, she was sure, intoxication. Dark hair lay tousled atop his head, nearly matching the shade of his eyes. His broad shoulders were clothed in a tight fitting deep blue button up, the first few buttons undone, revealing his smooth, unblemished collarbone.
Cami was smiling at him, rolling her eyes as she swiped the bill from beneath his palm, turning towards the numerous bottles that lined the shelves behind her. She was still shaking her head when she placed four shot glasses on the bar in front of him, filling them with an amber liquid that even looked like it would burn with every swallow. "What do you think, Kol?"
The man in question-Kol-raised his brows in question.
She nodded her head in Caroline's direction. "She's here about the 'Help Wanted' sign. Think she can hack it?"
Caroline tried not to bristle as Kol's gaze turned onto her, his dark eyes raking themselves up and down her form as the smirk on his widened. He shrugged, making a tsking sound with his tongue. "I don't know," he murmured, raising his eyes to stare intently into Caroline's. "She looks like a tasty little thing." He shook his head. " I'm honestly not sure you'd last a night with these riff raff."
Caroline squared her shoulders, narrowing her eyes at him as she crossed her arms against the counter's edge. "I'm tougher than I look."
Kol laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I've no doubt about that, darling. There's a fire in your eyes, that's for sure." He turned when Cami slid the four shot glasses towards him, lifting his brows and jerking his head in the younger blonde's direction. "I'd give her a shot. It's about time we had some fresh blood around here." He easily scooped the glasses up with both hands, not a single drop of the amber liquid sloshing over the sides, and sent Caroline a wink. "Hope to see you again, love."
Cami laughed. "And if you hope to keep that manhood between your legs, I'd dial down the flirt before your little miss catches wind of it and you're in a world of pain."
Kol clicked his tongue, turning and headed into the crowd of people scattered throughout the bar. "So mean, Cami-cakes. Whatever did I do to you..."
Caroline watched as he sauntered back to a table in the far corner where three other men sat, a chorus of cheers greeting him when he carefully slid the glasses of alcohol into the center of the table. Her eyes followed their movements as each of them reached for one, the quartet clinking their glasses high in the air before tossing them back, a wince going through her as she watched each of their faces crinkle up the slightest bit with the after taste.
She couldn't help but take them all in. They had an almost familial repertoire, with the way they laughed and joked. Two of them were just as dark and handsome as Kol had been, though both slightly older, she would assume. They both sat straight and tall, as if accustomed to always making a good impression. Something about good stature and observant eyes echoed in the back of her head, some saying or limerick one of her grade school teachers had said once or twice.
It was the fourth member of their party, though, that caught her attention. Tall and broad shouldered, with a mess of thick blonde curls, and a set of devastatingly perfect dimples as he smiled. There was something innocent about his smile, which was a sharp contrast to the rugged handsomeness of his face. The entire structure of his face was strong-from his cheekbones to his stubble covered jaw-every inch radiating a strength she could hardly fathom. But his smile...there was something almost vulnerable in the way he smiled. Like it was the one thing life hadn't managed to touch just yet.
Her eyes slowly raked across him, her breath nearly catching in her throat when she raised her gaze and was instantly struck with the intensity of his own. Piercing blue eyes were looking back her, their stormy depths visible even from the distance between them, and she nearly shuddered with their sheer intensity.
His smile was still on his face, though it had faded into a smirk. Strong, lean forearms rested against the tabletop, his hands wrapped around the shot glass, fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm against it. His eyes were still on hers; looking, searching, piercing...she had no idea anymore, just that they were almost pulling her in.
She jumped when something plopped onto the counter in front of her, and she whirled around to see Cami smiling at her, her hands resting on top of a pile of burgundy fabric-an apron.
"Well, if Kol says to give you a chance, there's no way I can say no," Cami told her. "He's the toughest critic we have around here. And you basically just got his stamp of approval. So when can you start?"
Caroline smiled, a wash of relief flowing through her. "As soon as you need me."
She listened as Cami prattled on about opening times, and hours, saying they could work out all the kinks of her schedule tomorrow when she started, and Caroline could feel her eyes start to drift back to the table in the far corner. The shuddering in her spine was back when she saw that the blonde man's eyes were still on her, a look of almost contemplation and intrigue on his face.
Cami noticed the younger blonde's distraction, and she followed her line of sight, smiling knowingly when she saw the object of her gaze. "Careful with that one," she warned quietly, leaning over the counter so their faces were side by side. She lifted her brows when Caroline looked back to her, confusion on her face. "He's a heartbreak waiting to happen."
Caroline frowned, watching Cami give her a sad smile as she settled back on her heels, wishing her a good night and welcome to the team before she turned to greet a newly arrived customer. There was a sense of unease about her now- "a heartbreak waiting to happen." She had absolutely no intention of her heart getting involved in anything. She'd gone that route before, and it was how she ended up in this mess in the first place.
No, Caroline had learned her lesson.
But as she slid her newly appointed apron into her arms and slid off her bar stool, she cast one more glance at the man across the room, a slight stab of disappointment cutting through her when she saw him now engaged in conversation with Kol, their heads pushed close together to hear one another over the clamor of activity around them.
Across the room, Klaus' gaze lifted to the bar once more in time to see the unfamiliar woman making her way out the door, blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders and a natural sway to her hips that nearly had him gasping.
He'd been caught off guard when he'd glanced up and saw her standing with Kol and Cami. He was used to seeing unfamiliar faces when he frequented the pub-New Orleans was a popular tourist attraction after all-but there had been something different about her.
She was radiant. Stunning. Enough to make him pause and just stare, memorizing every aspect about her that he could.
When their eyes had met, he had felt a shock clear down to his toes. As if some bolt of energy had electrified every inch of him that had laid dormant for longer than he cared to admit. There was so much in her gaze in those few seconds-questions and shadows, things he'd never noticed in anyone else, but were all but visible in her.
He was captivated.
"Who was that you were speaking to at the bar?" he asked, leaning towards Kol, his eyes still fixed on the blonde's retreating figure.
Kol frowned, turning his head before catching sight of her. He shrugged as he turned back to him, lifting his bottle of beer to his lips. "She was asking Cami about a job. Didn't catch a name, but she certainly was a lovely sight to behold." He grinned when he heard his brother nearly growl in his throat, and he laughed when he saw the way he was glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "Why, Nik, has some lovely lass finally caught your eye after all these years? I must say, I'm relieved. People were beginning to talk, and the last thing I need is for your questionable reputation to tarnish my own."
Klaus rolled his eyes, sinking back into his chair with a deep sigh as he stared at the now empty door, his fingers tapping against the table top. He ignored his brother as he continued to ramble on, trying to get a rise out of him again, but his thoughts were solely on the blonde beauty with the mesmerizing gaze, and the nagging question in the back of his mind of when-not if-he would see her again.
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So, for those of you wondering, this story was inspired by the book Safe Haven and the movie Sleeping With the Enemy. Having Klaus have a son was a very spur of the moment decision, and while I know a lot of people aren't fond of the fic!Klaus father storyline, I hope no one completely abandons this fic for that small fact alone.
So, there has been contact. Perhaps not direct contact, but let's all be honest-we live for that Klaroline eyesex.
Don't hesitate to sound of in the reviews. Lord knows I love them more than I love peanut butter-and I luuuuuurve me some peanut butter.
Also, if anyone is interested, Becky and I have a started a Klaroline drabbles series. So if that interests you at all, feel free to check it out over on our pen name: alittleblondeepiclove.
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