Author's note: Thank you for all of your kind reviews; it's really rewarding to see so many of you are still enjoying my story. I also started a new Klaroline multi-chap called A Pregnant Pause; I'd love for you to check it out if you're interested!

Warning: This will be an intense chapter with mentions of child abuse as Caroline receives more memories from Henrik.


The voices. So. many. voices. They came in waves, icy and vicious and unrelenting. And the emotions were overwhelming — bitter and angry, intimidated and terrified — not to mention the desperate need for vengeance. As Caroline's body slowly acclimated to the powerful psychic vibrations, she realized that Klaus was rocking her gently on the massive stone floor.

He whispered gruffly in her ear, "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. I've got you."

The gentleness of his voice made tears prick at her eyes, and she squeezed them tightly shut as she tried to gain some semblance of control. Taking a big, gulping breath, she murmured unsteadily, "Sorry. That — that's never happened to me before. I've been overwhelmed by spirits and their energy, but that was chaotic. Volatile."

He smiled grimly, looking pale and shaky as he told her, "'Volatile' is one way to describe this wretched place." He smoothed back the messy blonde waves that partially hid her face, reminding her in a hushed voice, "You don't have to do this. I understand if it's too much to ask."

Caroline was overcome with emotion; she knew what this meant to Klaus, and for him to set aside his personal feelings because he was worried about her was incredibly touching. But she couldn't do that to him. And she certainly couldn't do it to Henrik. Forcing herself back on her feet, she told him firmly, "No. I owe you and Henrik this." She was proud of the way her voice no longer shook as she said, "Let's go get your closure."

The relief mixed with grim determination she found on his face somehow steadied her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled him across the threshold once more. The air was thick with mystical energy, making her choke, and suddenly she was caught up in a terrifying vision.

A child's pitiful wails drew her attention to the dining room, and her heart sank as she caught a flash of pale blonde hair huddled in a ball underneath an enormous table of ornate wood and marble.

A hulking man furiously knocked over several of the tall leather chairs that she'd been hiding behind, his bellows barely coherent in his rage. She looked on in horror as the man hurled a rollerblade skate at the cowering child's belly, shouting, "No rollerblades in the house! You've ruined the European White Oak, you ungrateful child!"

Caroline clenched her jaw, willing away the disturbing images of Mikael beating one of his daughters. This had been Rebekah as a child, who today was still so afraid that she slept with a nightlight.

"Sweetheart, what it is it," Klaus asked her in concern.

Blinking rapidly, she reminded herself that he wasn't as sensitive to the dark energy in this house, and would only see the austere dining room furniture in the imposing dining room. It wouldn't do any good for Klaus to relive what she was sure was just one of many violent beatings. That wasn't the memory they were there to retrieve. Clearing her throat, she told him firmly, "There are higher laws than man's. Mikael's soul will be tortured for eternity."

Too many emotions flitted across his face, but he remained silent. Sometimes there weren't any words. She reached out to the spiritual plane, trying to find Henrik, but there were still too many horrific memories in this house. Not to mention the dark, angry voices.

The insidious snap of leather sliced the air, and a lump formed in her throat as she silently led him toward a small study off to the side. This time, she was better prepared when the image came to her, vivid and painful and this time, wearing a familiar face.

She knew those gray eyes. Despite the gangly limbs and features that he hadn't quite grown into, she knew immediately that this was Klaus as a teenager, his youthful face contorting in pain and rage as he tried to stand up to Mikael. He managed to dodge the first few lashes of the belt, but Caroline let out an anguished gasp as the sharp crack beside his head made her realize that his father was trying to catch him with the heavy end of a buckle. The force behind the blows caused several stones along the fireplace behind him to crack, and even though she knew what she was seeing already had happened, she felt herself step forward as though she could stop it. She recoiled as she watched the sharp edge of the buckle slice open his cheek, causing the back of Klaus' head to bang against the heavy stones of the fireplace.

Klaus suddenly walked in front of her, interrupting the awful vision as he approached the fireplace, his hand trembling as he touched the cracks in the stones. Clearly, he knew what vision she'd been shown, and her heart ached as she watched him stare blankly at the fireplace. She hugged him tightly, doing her best to soothe away his disquiet. It wasn't clear how long they stood there in that room, feeling too much and saying too little.

No matter how many times she used her gifts to help someone, it always shook her to the core. Death was never really final. Emotions always lingered, almost as though waiting for her to soak them in, and it wasn't always clear if she was reading them or they were reading her. She could feel the Mikaelsons' home, the ugliness trying to work its way inside of her. There was fear and hate and a crippling need for vengeance that permeated the air until she all but choked on it. What this family had been through. What Klaus had been through.

She pulled away slightly, placing a gentle kiss on one of his dimples. Neither of them spoke, but the look that passed between them spoke volumes. There was something there. Before she could consider what that meant, a fierce chill overtook her and she knew Henrik had returned. It was time.

With a careful squeeze of his hand, she guided him toward the grand staircase. She noticed they both kept their distance from the foot of the stairs. Where Henrik's body was found. Her voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, "Klaus, I have to go up there now. But you don't have to join me. I'll be ok."

With considerable effort, he wrenched his gaze from the imposing mahogany and wrought iron to stare at her solemnly. "Together or not at all, sweetheart," he told her with a grim determination.

Caroline nodded, keeping his sweat-slicked hand in her tight grip as they slowly mounted the stairs. She hated the hollow sound of their footsteps, the certainty that she felt about how the emptiest houses were often the most alive. When they reached the top of the stairs, the stale air shifted, and she braced herself for what was about to happen.

The small squeak of Henrik's sneakers alerted her to his presence, and she caught a brief glimpse of his baby face before he faded away again. Then, another wave of fear hit her. Henrik was terrified. When the vision came, she did her best not to let Klaus sense the overwhelming feeling of dread that came over her. She focused on the energy Henrik shared with her, only giving Klaus the faintest squeeze of her hand to reassure him once more.

Sunlight poured into the long hallway, the elaborate crystal and bronze sconces scattering tiny rainbows along the walls. But she wasn't swayed by their cheerful appearance —dark things were here.

A bedroom door was slightly opened, Henrik's fearful face barely visible through the crack. He was hiding in his room because he heard yelling and thought it was his father. She saw the instant that Henrik realized it was Elijah's voice instead, and he pushed the door open a bit further in his curiosity as he registered a second voice. A girl's voice.

Frowning, Caroline tried to guide Henrik to show her who was arguing with Elijah, as it was clear from the boy's confusion that it wasn't one of his sisters. Unfortunately, he couldn't show her what he hadn't seen. She frantically sifted through Henrik's jumbled memories, only certain words were audible from the angry voices at the top of the stairs — "broke your promise", "liar", and "hate you".

Caroline pulled herself out of the memory, confused by what Henrik had tried to show her. Someone else was there the day that he'd been murdered.