Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited that last chapter - you are all so wonderful! c:

Warning: This fic deals with death of a major character.

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own The Vampire Diaries.


Eventually—she wasn't sure when, exactly—Caroline fell into a fitful slumber, awaking early the next morning. So early, in fact, that the sky outside was still the pale grey of dawn, the subtle glimmer of pink, just visible on the horizon, the only real indicator of the rising sun.

This was it—she thought as she awoke, her first thought of the morning—this was the second day of the investigation. The second day of her Elena-less life.

For a long moment, she idled in bed—clinging futilely to the serenity of dawn as she watched the first vestiges of light filter in and illuminate the ceiling bright gold. Beside her, entangled in his cotton sheets and still snoring loudly, Tyler was a warm presence and she inclined her head to look at him, a soft smile playing on the corners of her lips. Careful not to wake him, she reached out a hand to brush his dark hair back from where it had fallen over his eyes, her own eyes crinkling slightly in amusement when she spotted the pool of drool that had gathered on the pillow, beside the corner of his mouth.

It was 6AM when Caroline finally decided to get out of bed, pausing only to gather her wash bag and towel from her duffel on her way to Tyler's bathroom. The air around her—along with the eggshell white tiles beneath her feet—were cold as she undressed, wriggling out of her sweatshirt and shorts to stand, shivering, with her arms wrapped around herself. She was glad, then, to step into the comforting embrace of the shower's hot spray—grateful for the way it helped banish the chill she felt not just outside, but within her, even if it was only for a little while.

Tyler was still asleep when she returned to his bedroom, clad only in a towel, to root through her duffel bag in search of something to wear for the day. For too long she considered the pantsuit she'd deliberately packed—wondering, maybe, if it would make her look more professional and, at the very least, stop Mikaelson from looking at her as though she was some sorority girl who'd just wandered into the station one day and everyone was too polite to ask her to leave—before she decided you know what, screw it and, more importantly, screw him. She would wear what she wanted.

She pulled on a green dress and a black jacket, completing the look with a pair of black ankle boots. She blow-dried her hair—miraculously, while Tyler still slept—and straightened it until she was satisfied that it was sitting right. Once she had finished her make-up, she spared her reflection the briefest hint of a satisfied half-smile. Looking good in a cute outfit was her armour—as much as anyone else's pantsuit or, as in Mikaelson's case, their Henleys and bohemian beaded necklaces.

For her, breakfast was a dull affair—two pieces of wholemeal toast that she took a single bite out of before pushing them away, her appetite still stubbornly lacking. Tyler stumbled groggily out of his bedroom, still bleary-eyed, as she was pouring some coffee from the pot into her travel mug. Granting him an affectionate look, she poured him out a cup and pressed it into his waiting hand.

"Thanks," he mumbled out, barely stifling a yawn. Reaching up a hand, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and appraised her, gaze flickering momentarily to the clock on the wall—seven in the morning, it read, "You're up early," he noted.

"Yeah, I'm gonna head into work soon," she said, pausing to take a sip of her coffee and relishing the way her synapses sparked with the introduction of caffeine into her system, "There's a lot of work to be done on Elena's case."

"Wait," Tyler blinked back at her, a crease forming between his brown eyes, "They have you working on that?"

"Yeah," Caroline replied, moving around the kitchen island to gather up her handbag and keys, "They made me the lead on it—well, the co-lead. It's kind of a long story."

"Can they do that?" he asked her, shaking his head, "I mean, I'm just going off of what I know from TV but isn't the case, like, too personal for you to work on or something?"

"Yeah, that was a concern, but I told the captain I could handle it," she explained to him, lifting her shoulders in a shrug—a forced show of nonchalance which she hoped looked more authentic than it felt—as she checked her cell and slipped it into her bag, zipping it up in the front pocket.

Tyler grabbed a piece of her discarded toast, taking a bite and chewing on it thoughtfully, "Yeah, I don't doubt that, Care, but..." he paused to huff out a sigh, "Look, all I'm saying is, one of your best friends was just murdered, and now, all of a sudden, it's up to you to figure out who did it? I just—It doesn't seem right to me."

"Tyler," Caroline said, unable to help the touch of exasperation that seeped, unbidden, into her tone as she looked up at him with a note of finality in her eyes, "I know that this is going to be difficult—believe me, I do—but I wasn't lying to them and I'm not lying to you now. I can handle this. It's just—It's something I feel I need to do. For Elena."

"Caroline..." he shook his head and she wondered if he would ever truly understand her motivations—if he even could, for that matter, "I just... I don't want you putting yourself through the emotional wringer here."

Caroline approached him, an affectionate twist to her lips, "You're sweet," she whispered to him, her warm breath ghosting over his lips before she leaned forward to kiss him softly on the corner of his mouth; as their lips met, he seemed to relax—if only slightly, "I'll be back here later tonight—I'm not sure when but it'll probably be kind of late. Don't wait up for me, OK?"

"OK," Tyler nodded, trying for a smile as he watched her sling her bag over her shoulder, "Care, you know that if you need anything today, you just—you call me, OK? Even if it's just to check in or to complain about how bad Matt's coffee is, all right? I'll come around with the good stuff."

"Not that weak stuff you call coffee?" she countered with the barest hint of a smile, only half-teasing him.

"God, no. Starbucks, obviously," he replied, with a grin—one that, she couldn't help but notice, didn't quite reach his eyes, dark and troubled as they were with concern.

She exhaled a laugh, tinged with mirth, as she hoped—oh, God, did she hope—that his concern was unjustified. Though she wouldn't admit it to him, or to Matt or to anyone really beyond the confines of her own mind, she couldn't ignore the sense of doubt that had settled itself, heavy like a stone, in the pit of her stomach. Was she up to this? Could she handle it? Insecurities she'd thought she'd shed long ago had come back to her in full force, nagging at her thoughts with an irritating persistence, despite her attempts to shake them.

"I will. Thank you," she said, casting him a smile over her shoulder as she stood, one hand braced against the door handle, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she heard him reply, faintly, as she stepped out of the apartment, the door swinging shut behind her.

:-:

When she arrived at the station, she fully expected to be the first one there and—for a moment, as she took in the empty, eerily quiet main room wherein the computers were just row upon row of blank screens—she thought she was—that is, until she heard the distinct rustle of movement in the back. Taking a sip of her coffee, she crept towards the source of the noise, peering into the room she had worked in the day before to see Mikaelson already there, sitting in a swivel chair—which, after a quick glance around the floor, she could confirm he'd stolen from behind Mindy's desk—while he watched something she couldn't help but find vaguely familiar on the station's outdated television set.

His wool trench coat was off, slung over the back of his chair neatly, thus allowing Caroline to see the slender, but—if the way his Henley clung to him was any indication—surprisingly well-built frame underneath. A pad of paper was held in his left hand, while a pen was gripped loosely in his right; she watched him scrutinize the television screen for a moment, before he scribbled something down on the paper in a quick, but elegant script.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, taking a step forwards, into the room, and dumping her bag onto the nearby table.

He spared her the briefest of glances before he reached down and picked up a take-out cup of coffee from where it had been sitting on the floor, beside his chair leg. "Working a case," she frowned when he parroted her response from the day before back to her with ease, "And you?"

"Also working," she replied quickly, one hand braced against the table's edge as she leaned against it, "Figured it'd be a good idea to get in an early start. What are you—?"

Though she had fully intended to ask him what he was watching, her gaze flitting to the grainy black-and-white image on the screen as she did so, she couldn't help but be struck with the same strange sense of familiarity as before—only this time it was accompanied by a sudden realisation. Caroline straightened, looking down at him with one perfectly-shaped eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"This is the CCTV from my apartment building," she stated, her lips pursed slightly.

Mikaelson didn't even turn to look up at her, "Just ensuring your story checks out, love," he replied, in an even tone, taking a quick sip of his coffee before he replaced the polystyrene cup back onto the floor.

She gritted her teeth at him, "My name is Caroline or Detective Forbes, not love," she retorted, spitting the last word back at him in a poor imitation of his accent.

At that, the corner of his lips twitched up in what she thought might have been a genuinely amused smirk but it disappeared within a second, leaving his features impassive once again and her unsure of just what she had seen. "I'll bear that in mind, sweetheart," he replied, without missing a beat.

Caroline hissed out a breath, a biting remark already poised on the tip of her tongue when, suddenly, the sight of herself on the television screen called her attention away. She watched as she balanced a pizza box in one hand, using the other to text out a reply to Tyler—oh God, had that seriously only been two days ago?—before she slipped her cell phone into her pocket and let herself into her apartment. The time at the bottom of the screen read: 19:03.

Mikaelson lifted his gaze to her in a quizzical expression, "Who were you texting?"

Caroline's brow furrowed and, though she couldn't help but find the question wholly irrelevant, she sighed and answered it nonetheless, "My boyfriend. He was out for the night with some friends. I can show you the texts if you want."

He exhaled a short breath, his pen scratching along the pad of paper as he wrote something down—she wished she knew what, "That won't be necessary," he replied.

After she let herself into her apartment, the next four hours—fast-forwarded through at a low speed—passed by uneventfully until, at eleven oh six, the door opened and Mikaelson put the tape back to a normal pace. Caroline felt her heart constrict painfully in her chest as she watched Elena close the door behind her and immediately put her ringing phone to her ear. She tossed her dark hair over one shoulder as she greeted whoever was on the other end, the camera catching the beginnings of a wide smile.

"Yeah, I'm out now—I'll be there in a few minutes," she was saying, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip as she suppressed a laugh, "Oh, shut up. OK, yeah, I'll see you in a bit."

She hung up and walked off-screen, the elevator chiming as it carried her away. A lump rose in Caroline's throat as she watched the last remaining footage of her best friend and she could feel the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, desperate to be shed, but she held them back, gritting her teeth against them resolutely. What wanted to be a sob came out, instead, as a sniffle which—if Mikaelson heard it—he mercifully didn't call any attention to by glancing her way.

The next few hours of the tape passed by without much to note—to the point where Caroline had started counting and then recounting the visible ceiling tiles on the screen just to keep her mind occupied—and she cast Mikaelson a curious glance. Once again, she was struck by how odd it was to see him—this famed cop whose name was so often splashed across the newspapers—working in their decidedly small-town police station. It was certainly a cause for intrigue and her mind wandered, as it always did when she picked up this particular train of thought, to what exactly had brought him to them.

If the press was to be believed, he had practically ruled the Homicide Division in Chicago—why, then, would he trade that in for a position in Mystic Falls? Taking a contemplative sip of her coffee, she tried to remember what his last case was before transferring—it had been well-publicised, she remembered that much. She recalled something about the murder of a psychology student but, in regards to everything else, she drew a blank. Frowning slightly, she made a mental note to look it up later.

Her gaze snapped up to him when she heard the tell-tale whir of the tape fast-forwarding fall silent and, her curiosity piqued, she glanced over at the TV. Mikaelson had put it back to normal speed again, though Caroline wasn't sure why until she saw her apartment door creak open. Her heart thundered in her chest, thumping in loud staccato rhythm as she watched Bonnie emerge, one arm already in her zip-up hoodie while the other reached out to close the door quietly behind her—presumably so as not to wake her still sleeping friend inside.

Shrugging into her hooded jacket, she zipped it up and withdrew her cell phone from one of the pockets. Her head was bowed as she tapped out a message to an unknown person, her features troubled when she glanced up, walking off-screen to the elevator. The timestamp in the bottom right-hand corner glared back at them: 01:09, it read in stark white and Caroline stared at it, her pulse racing and her hands shaking.

"Well, the timing fits," Mikaelson noted, glancing over to her with his eyebrows raised, "Did you know she left at that time?"

A horrible, numb feeling had prickled its way uncomfortably over Caroline's skin and it took her a moment to digest his question, let alone answer it, "...N—No, I had no idea," she choked out, a feeling of infuriation scorching through her veins at the skepticism she could see burning in his eyes, "Why would I lie about this?! This is my best friend's murder investigation."

"Perhaps because you are covering for another of your best friends," Mikaelson stated, his gaze flicking pointedly to the CCTV tape.

"No," Caroline stated stubbornly, refusing to believe what he was implying in spite of what she'd just seen, "Bonnie wouldn't."

"And yet, the evidence states otherwise. You see, this is precisely why I didn't want you working this case," he retorted, shaking his head while she openly seethed, loathing him more than she thought was even possible, "Already your personal ties are clouding your judgement."

Caroline pushed herself away from the table, standing up straight with her travel-mug clasped tightly in a white-knuckled grip, "I have nothing I need to prove to you."

"Nothing," he inclined his head to her, a wry half-smile that was devoid of any mirth playing faintly on his lips, "except your innocence."

"Fine," she snapped back, "Watch the rest of the tape and you'll see I didn't leave until the morning."

"Yes, and perhaps we'll learn more about your other best friend's whereabouts during that time," he flipped to a previous page in his notes, affirming something briefly before he looked up at her, his blue eyes somehow stormier than ever, "Miss Bennett, isn't it? The one whom you swore spent the night at your apartment on the night of Miss Gilbert's murder?"

Caroline shook her head, refusing to dignify his question—though she was certain it was more of a taunt—with an answer. Instead, she steeled herself, fixing her gaze on the television screen as the hours on the timestamp rolled by. At nearly four in the morning—3.52AM, to be exact—Bonnie returned, the tape providing no explanation of her whereabouts during her absence as she let herself into the apartment with the key Caroline had given both her and Elena. There, her best friend remained until 7.01AM when she emerged into the camera's scope again, this time with her handbag slung over her shoulder as she (presumably) made her way home.

Caroline watched as, only a short while later, she herself left her apartment—at 8.32AM—locking the door behind her before she made her way to the elevators, a definite spring to her step. It sounded silly, and altogether pointless to dwell on, but she couldn't help but wish she could go back and warn her past self of the disappointment and despair she had in store for her, waiting to pounce on her within only a matter of hours.

"Well, it seems your alibi checks out, Detective Forbes," Mikaelson was saying and her gaze snapped to him as he rose, with an almost predatory grace, and moved to eject the tape; with the push of a button, the image of her apartment building turned to static.

She watched as he pulled on his coat, "You're going to go talk to Bonnie now, aren't you?" she asked him, a knowing look in her eye.

"Well, you saw the tape," he replied, as if that explained everything.

"OK, then," she agreed, raising her eyebrows at him, "Are we taking your car or mine?"

A beat of silence passed between them as, for a minute, Mikaelson merely looked at her, his brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—as though he didn't know whether she was joking or not, before, eventually, he decided on the former and exhaled a mirthless breath of laughter, "Oh, no, love, you're staying here," he said as he walked out of the room.

"Um, no I'm not," she shot back at him, following him step for step, "This is my case, too, remember? The captain gave it to me to work on, same as you. And you may be my boss, but he's yours, so..." she trailed off with a slight shrug as though any other argument he presented was therefore invalid.

Mikaelson stopped at that, rounding on her with a look that was clearly exasperated, "You're not working this case," he reiterated, fixing the collar of his coat as he looked down on her, "It's too—"

She exhaled a heavy sigh, her nostrils flaring daintily as she glowered back at him, "Oh, please. Don't give me that whole 'it's too personal, your judgement will be clouded' crap because that's what it is—crap," she retorted, feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins as her ire rose, "I don't care what you say or what you think of me, I am a good cop. I've got three years under my belt, I've closed more cases than anyone else here and your job would be mine if you hadn't suddenly decided that you were too good for Chicago or whatever it is that made you want to transfer. So, I'm coming with you to question this suspect whether you like it or not."

"Besides," she couldn't resist throwing over her shoulder at him, "I know where she lives."

:-:

Caroline had always loved Bonnie's house.

Even when it had belonged to her grandmother, it had always seemed so... homey and Caroline had always relished the nights she got to sleepover there, looking forward to them with eager anticipation. When Bonnie had inherited it, upon Miss Sheila's death four years ago, she had done her best to preserve the cosy atmosphere her grandmother had established, while also adding her own unique touch.

The furniture that filled it was—in a word—eclectic. Bonnie had always been a big advocate of flea markets and eBay, loving nothing more than scoring a bargain on an underpriced piece of furniture which she would then restore to a state that was almost better than new. At that moment, Caroline sat on the living room's plush green couch, her back propped up by a collection of throw pillows, as she tried not to remember all the good times she, Bonnie and Elena had had in this very room. It was an understatement to say that this situation was one she never thought she'd find herself in—about to question one friend about the murder of another.

Lifting her gaze from where she was frowning down at a chip in her peach nail polish, she spotted Mikaelson standing with his hands clasped behind his back, examining one of the many paintings that hung from Bonnie's yellow walls in a way that reminded her—rather bizarrely—of the museum scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Part of her wanted to make a remark—she could already feel one dancing precariously on the tip of her tongue—but she bit it back. She was already clinging to her position as co-lead detective on this case by a very thin—very vulnerable—thread and she didn't want to be the one to cut it so she settled for simply rolling her eyes at his back.

Pretentious asshole, she cast at him silently.

Bonnie swept into the living room, a wooden tray clasped stiffly in her hands, "Tea?" she asked them both, sparing them each a glance.

Mikaelson shook his head while Caroline accepted the cup that the other girl passed to her, stirring in liberal amounts of milk and sugar. Wrapping her oversized grey cardigan tighter around her slender frame, Bonnie took a seat in the armchair opposite the blonde, her own cup cradled in her hands. She swallowed hard, olive green eyes flitting from Caroline to Mikaelson and back again.

"This is about Elena, isn't it," she stated rather than asked.

Caroline nodded while Mikaelson took a step towards her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his wool trench coat, "Miss Bennett," he began, his voice calm and even in a way that didn't quite belie the warning underneath, "We pulled the security footage from Detective Forbes' apartment building—where you, she and Miss Gilbert all spent the hours before the latter's death. The CCTV, though, shows you leaving the apartment at approximately..."

He pulled the pad of paper he'd been working on earlier from his pocket and, flipping to a page, confirmed a fact briefly before he lifted his gaze to regard Bonnie coolly again, "...1.10AM. As far as we are aware, this was without Detective Forbes' knowledge and it puts your whereabouts in a state of uncertainty during Miss Gilbert's estimated time of death. Can you tell us where you went, Miss Bennett?"

Caroline watched the conflict of emotions that passed across her friend's face at the question and—for a brief, but all too long, moment—she felt her heartbeat quicken because no, oh God, no. Then Bonnie's shoulders relaxed a fraction—a mark of resignation. She took a quick sip of tea as though to steel her nerves before: "I was..." she sighed, shaking her head slightly, "I was with Jeremy."

"Jeremy?" Caroline echoed, her eyebrows arched incredulously.

"Miss Gilbert's younger brother?" Mikaelson asked for clarification, glancing over to her with a questioning look.

"Yeah," Caroline replied, nodding—so shocked was she at this new gem of information that she couldn't bring herself to feel even the slightest bit smug at having knowledge where Mikaelson lacked it. Her gaze flitted back to her friend, "Why were you with him?"

Another sip of tea—longer this time, a clear attempt at stalling. "Jeremy and I... well, we used to date. Sort of, it was complicated," she explained.

"What? When?" Caroline couldn't help but exclaim, very much aware that any guise of professionalism she had held had now slipped—if not disappeared completely.

"It was last year and it was only for a couple of months. Four... maybe five? I can't really remember and it wasn't anything serious anyway," Bonnie said, placing her cup on the coffee table with a gentle clatter, her hands clasping themselves tightly in the lap of her jeans, "We were just hooking up mostly, it was... casual. It was fun. For awhile, it looked as though things might start to get serious but I... I ended it before it could ever get that far."

"Why?" Caroline couldn't help but ask, her curiosity rampant.

This was huge. All last year—when Bonnie had reiterated her decision that she was swearing off men each time Caroline attempted to fix her up with someone new—she'd been hooking up with Jeremy Gilbert. How could she not have known? Searching back, Caroline tried to think of any instances that could have given away the secret, things she'd overlooked at the time but rang with a sudden sense of clarity now that she had new information to work with.

There was none. Wildly, she wondered if Elena had known.

Bonnie's hesitation was palpable and, when she finally answered the question, she spoke with a cautious air, choosing her words carefully, "Jeremy—he's..." her gaze flickered briefly to Mikaelson before falling on Caroline again, who encouraged her with a gentle nod, "He's got a pretty serious drug problem. When we first... got together, he was only using pot, I swear. But then—then he started to get into the heavier stuff—coke, mostly. It got really bad and I said I couldn't be involved with him, not like this, but I agreed to stand by him—as a friend—while he tried to get clean."

Mikaelson was scratching away in his notebook again. "How does this tie in with Monday night?" Caroline asked her, leaning forward slightly, "Did Elena—Did she know?"

"No," Bonnie shook her head, "At least, I don't think so. He said that he only told me and his parents. And he'd been doing so well—honest—but on Monday night, he kind of fell off the wagon. He called me around," she fished her phone out of her jeans' pocket and checked her call logs before handing it to Caroline to confirm, "five to one, said he needed help. I walked out to meet him and took him to a McDonald's so that he could get some food in him and sober up. We hung out there for a couple of hours, just talking, until I called him a cab to take him home and made my way back to Caroline's at around four."

Caroline nodded, the knot of tension in her chest easing ever so slightly—the McDonald's security tapes and staff could verify Bonnie's story, she was in the clear, she repeated to herself over and over, cherishing it for the reassuring mantra it was—though, try as she did to reason it away, she couldn't help the guilt that seeped into the cracks. For a dreadful moment, she had actually considered the possibility that Bonnie might be culpable, though she had loved Elena like a sister just as much as Caroline had. Saltzman was right—this case was going to be a difficult one.

"Was Jeremy Gilbert behaving erratically at all when you were with him?" Mikaelson asked, breaking Caroline out of her reverie.

"Well, yeah. But I just—I just assumed he was freaked, in case his Mom or Dad found out. He's really close to them and, after all the work they put in to help him get clean..." Bonnie paused, swallowing thickly, "I guess I thought he didn't want to disappoint them."

"Did he say anything to you about his activity that night—before you met up with him?" he continued.

"No, nothing. He says, once he came down from his high, he couldn't remember much of anything," Bonnie replied, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Caroline watched her, noting the tremor in her fingers and deducing that there was something else, something more she wanted to tell them, "I do know that he was working that night, though," her gaze locked with her friend and the two girls shared a meaningful look, "Up until around eleven."

Caroline felt a sudden rush of comprehension wash over her and she leaned back a little in her seat, glad of the throw pillows' support behind her as she exhaled a heavy breath. Suddenly aware of Mikaelson's gaze boring into her, demanding an explanation, she looked up at him with wide eyes and explained: "Jeremy's a bartender—at the Mystic Grill." Near where Elena was found went unspoken between them but she watched as cool realization flickered in his eyes.

"That'll be all, Miss Bennett, I thank you for your co-operation," Mikaelson said, stuffing his pad of paper back into his coat pocket while Caroline rose from her seat, "We'll be in touch if we have any further questions. Detective Forbes?"

Though he called to her, beckoning her out the door so they could plan the next stage of their investigation in private, Caroline couldn't resist lingering. Bonnie stood as well and the two girls embraced each other, succumbing to their grief in the presence of another person who could relate to their feelings.

"Do you... Do you think there was anything we could have done? To stop it?" Bonnie whispered, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her hand.

Caroline sniffled and shook her head, "No, I—I don't think there was. But we can still do right by her, we can honour her memory and we can make sure that whoever did this to her..." the blonde paused, sucking in a deep breath before she continued, "We can make sure whoever did this to her gets put behind bars where they belong."

Bonnie nodded in agreement, "I don't know if you heard—the Gilberts, they left me a message of my machine—they plan to have Elena's funeral this Sunday. They, um," her gaze flickered briefly to Mikaelson who—Caroline could see in her peripheral vision—was hovering near the front door, "They hope to have her body released back to them by then."

"Yeah, I'll be there, definitely," Caroline nodded, granting her friend a sad half-smile as she took her hand in her own and gave it a slight squeeze, "Take care, OK? I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah, just—you know—call me when you can, I understand that you're busy," Bonnie added as Caroline engulfed her in another tight hug before they reluctantly broke apart.

Sparing Bonnie one last look, Caroline followed Mikaelson outside. The afternoon sun was bright, giving the day a summery feel—one that suggested it should be spent in the company of refreshing cocktails and barbecues. Distantly, perhaps in the next street over, Caroline could just make out the sound of children laughing, chatting with one and other as they enjoyed the good weather and played outside.

She cast a glance over to her partner as they walked to where his black SUV was parked, glinting wildly in the sun's glare. "Tell me," he asked her, meeting her gaze, "Where does Jeremy Gilbert live?"


So, things are starting to get interesting...

Or, at least, I hope so, lol. Also, Klaus - it's so weird having to call him 'Mikaelson' this whole fic, it feels so formal - now seems to have a sort of respect for Caroline? Progress? Haha, though it doesn't seem like it at the moment, I swear this is a Klaroline fanfic. It's just gonna take them some time - gosh, they're just so stubborn. c:

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Until next time, guys! x