This is it! The final chapter!
I'm so sorry it took so long. Honestly, I'd been struggling with a particular scene and my will to finish just died. But recently, I re-read all your kind comments and reviews and felt that I couldn't possibly let you guys down :)
So this is for you. Thanks for sticking till the end. This is the longest story I've ever posted! Hope you enjoy it :D
Elena's bachelorette is so wild and depraved that they make a pact to never tell anyone about it.
"Katherine really outdid herself, didn't she?" says Elena, looking at the sleeping brunette sprawled across the hotel bed.
"Mmm, I have half a mind to hire her," replies Caroline, gingerly touching the ice pack to the bruise on her cheek. "Maybe she should organise your wedding instead."
Elena laughs. "Nah, she's not up for the kind of work that doesn't involve strippers. Plus, I really really wanted to be your first client."
"Yeah well we've seriously set the bar for our clients," she says dryly, gesturing at Elena's hangover hair, smeared makeup, and the butterfly tattoo peeking out from the top of her jeans.
Elena winces and twists around, trying to get another look at her tramp stamp. "We really need to get rid of this."
Later as Elena enquires about tattoo removals at the concierge desk, Caroline goes to the poolside café and stands for a while in front of the counter. She's just trying to figure out what kind of food wouldn't make her throw up when she spots Klaus looking unnecessarily cheerful.
"Klaus, hey! What are you doing here?"
He takes in her sunglasses and rumpled hair and smirks. "Damon wanted me to drop off Elena's contact lens solution."
She smiles. Stefan had thrown his brother a bachelor party at a hotel not very far from here, but clearly that wasn't enough for Damon. "And let me guess he also wanted you to spy on Elena and come back with updates."
"Of course."
"Well on the subject of our bachelorette shenanigans, my lips are sealed." She finally decides on a chocolate croissant.
He shrugs lazily. "Whatever. I tried."
Without a word, they move into the indoor area of the café and settle down on a table. Klaus gets a closer look at her bruise and flinches.
"Jesus Christ, who did that to you?"
"Relax, Klaus. I fell. Right on my face. Because apparently vodka makes me clumsy."
He exhales and takes a closer look. "It's turning yellow, now," he says, grinning a little.
"I know." She rips into her croissant. "And it hurts like a bitch."
"So, how's work going? Cami holding the fort okay while you're here getting up to god-knows-what?"
"It's going well. And I trust Cami. We're looking at renting an office soon."
He gives her a dimpled smile. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Caroline. Klaus." Elena approaches their table warily, looking from one to the other.
Klaus holds up a stiff cardboard carry-bag. "Your contact lens solution. Thought I'd drop it by on my way to the locksmith."
"Locksmith?" says Elena sharply, sitting next to Caroline. "Why, what happened?"
He merely smiles and mimes zipping his mouth shut, sending Caroline a wink.
"Fair enough," she replies wryly. "I'm just going to go check if they have those blueberry muffins."
Klaus watches Elena walk towards the counter with an odd expression. "Is that… a tattoo?"
Caroline smirks. "Maybe."
He leans forward. "Really? Some interesting story behind it?"
"Very interesting."
"And how much will that information cost me?"
"Depends on what you have to offer."
"Oh, I'm sure we can figure out something to our mutual satisfaction."
"Have I told you how much I hate it when blueberry muffins have just a few blueberries at the top and the rest is all cake?" says Elena, dropping into her chair. Caroline straightens up with a start. "I mean that's not a blueberry muffin. That's just having blueberries for the sake of having blueberries."
As Elena continues her diatribe against muffin tokenism, Caroline tries in vain to calm her racing heart. Ever since he came back, things between her and Klaus have been strictly platonic, a conscious choice on both their parts. It's been good having him back as a friend, hanging out with the gang without any drama, planning Elena's wedding, working with Cami from their temporary office. At times she feels they can move past everything. They made a series of bad decisions, but they've been mature about it and gone back to being friends. An arrangement that has clearly worked out well.
And then there are times like this, when she feels that tug again. That feeling that just being friends with him isn't enough.
Klaus checks his phone. "I should get going. Damon's getting antsy." He stands up. "Have fun, I'll see you guys tomorrow." She watches him leave, idly tearing her croissant into bits.
"Caroline."
"Yes?"
"Stop staring at his ass."
"Yeah, as if I haven't seen everything else."
Elena narrows her eyes. "Really, this is the stage we're at? Where you guys just ignore what happened and makes jokes?"
"We aren't ignoring anything, 'Lena," she says, for possibly the hundredth time. "We're just moving on."
"Oh, and I didn't just walk in on the two of you eye-sexing a minute ago."
"God, that was just Klaus being Klaus. That's what he does, he flirts reflexively. It doesn't mean anything."
"Are you sure?" Elena raises her muffin to her mouth and nibbles at it delicately. "Are you sure you don't feel like you made a mistake not telling him how you feel when he came back?"
"Yes, I didn't make a mistake," she replies, emphatically. "It's been really good ever since, it really has. I needed time to clear my head."
"And? Is your head clear enough?"
"Elena. I thought you wouldn't meddle in my love life anymore."
"This isn't meddling. Consider this a polite enquiry."
"Then take this as my polite suggestion to butt out."
Elena grins and raises her palm. "Point taken."
"Anyway, we should get Katherine some food. She'll need it soon."
"Say, who's going to tell Katherine she went crazy on a dare and gave herself a haircut with a razor? Can't be me, I'm the bride."
"Oh, you're playing the bride card now, are you?"
"Damn right. I can't be murdered violently by my cousin before my own wedding."
"I hate you."
.
.
"Hey, Caroline. Your parents just RSVP'd," says Stefan, sorting through the mail.
"Together?" she asks, surprised.
"Of course not. Bill and Steven wish they could've come but they're going on a holiday. Liz said she's busy."
"Of course she is," she mutters under her breath, taking the rest of the RSVPs from him. She knew she expected too much of her parents to come and attend their daughter's best friend's wedding, not to mention the first event she would be organising under Forbes & O'Connel. In their own ways, they'd both said they were proud of her but those were mere words. Caroline had learnt long ago not to trust words.
Running a pen down the finalised guest list, she says, "Stefan, why don't you have a plus one? Where's Lexi?"
"Oh, she won't able to make it. She has a conference."
"She does?"
"Yeah. Guess you'll have to put me at the singles table."
They laugh as if on cue.
"Well," says Stefan. "I'm going down to the bar."
"See you in a bit."
"Awkward," Katherine quips from where she's sprawled on the couch.
She opens her phone to see three missed calls from Cami, a couple of emails from the caterer, and a few texts from the bride herself.
"Honestly, I would be worried," Caroline replies, putting her phone to her ear. "But I don't have time for this."
.
.
New Orleans is everything she'd imagined. The art, the culture, the lights, the street life, the food. Oh my god, the food.
Damon and Elena had elected to spend the weekend before the big day with their families, so it's up to Katherine, Stefan and her to attend Klaus's big gallery opening.
As she looks at the crowd and the paintings at display, she thinks of how different this is from his earlier exhibitions. Serious buyers mingle with art critics as they stroll from painting to painting, murmuring words of praise, flutes of champagne in their hands. This might probably be the most important night of his life, she thinks watching Klaus from the corner of her eye. This could be the night that finally establishes him as an artist to watch out for.
His paintings are of everyday New York scenes; at the same time, they could be of any city in the world. There's a sense of poignancy to some of them, a feeling that the moment captured in them will never come again. A sidewalk buzzing with office-goers. A subway filled with tired faces. There's also a sense of resilience, a hyperreal focus on the people inhabiting the city; their hopes, their dreams, their fears. The people that make the city what it is. Over all, it's very very different to the landscapes and abstract art she's seen him do.
She examines a rooftop scene in front of her, of the sun rising through the ugly wires and buildings in the distance. She thinks she recognises the roof.
"Powerful stuff, isn't it?"
She turns to see a man dressed in a dark suit smiling at her.
"I'm Marcel. You must be Caroline."
She nods, a little confused as to how he'd recognised her.
"When I first saw Klaus's work, I was struck," he says, coming to stand next to her. "That man really knows how to make you feel things."
"So I've noticed. So how do you think it's going? What's the reception like?"
"It's amazing. It's been a while since we've hosted an artist of such potential."
"About that, I was wondering shouldn't this exhibition have been about New Orleans? All I can see is New York."
Marcel smiles widely, showing all his teeth. "I believe you cannot hide where you come from, what you love. And that's what I see in these paintings. Not just a city. Of course," he adds, "the original direction was something else."
"Really? What was it?"
"A little more…intimate. Those were the paintings I first saw, that made me decide to take him. But Klaus changed his mind. It didn't matter because these paintings are absolutely brilliant, but to be honest, I prefer the earlier ones."
"Can I see them?" she asks before she can stop herself.
Marcel looks at her for a long while. Finally, he makes up his mind.
"Sure."
.
.
Caroline cannot breathe.
"I sort of suspected when I saw you tonight. But he never really talked about it, so I let it drop."
They're of her. All the five paintings in the storage room below the gallery are of her. None of them show her face clearly but she knows instinctively it's her.
The first one shows her on the grey and gloomy street, her face turned away, a cigarette in her hand. The only colour comes from the yellow in her hair and the green of her coat. She can almost feel herself stamping her feet to keep out the cold, impatiently inhaling the smoke.
The second one is of her in the middle of the bar, almost unnoticed in the hustle and bustle. She looks drunk, and she's in mid-conversation, the visible side of her face smiling softly. The third is almost the same as the rooftop painting, but it's from her point of view now. She's sitting on the red fire escape, feet stretched out, a bottle of beer on her side.
The next one makes her blush. She's in the shower behind the translucent glass, rivulets of water down her bare back. She admires the play of light, how it reflects on the glass and the water, the strands of wet blonde hair sticking to her back, the mole on her right shoulder he got exactly right.
She stares at the last painting for a long time. She's standing at the edge of a pond, surrounded by greenery. It looks like she could be anywhere- a Tuscan countryside, an English garden, even a Monet landscape. But she knows exactly where she is. At Central Park, feeding the ducks.
"Oh my god," she whispers. "I never- I can't…"
"I shouldn't have shown this to you," begins Marcel nervously. She'd forgotten he was in the room. "I didn't know-"
"Marcel! Davina has been looking for you everywhere. I swear I can't stand-"
Klaus's voice fades when he sees her.
Marcel clears his throat. "I'll go talk to her." He throws them an apprehensive look and hurries out the room.
In the silence that follows, Caroline's heart thuds painfully loud in her ear. Klaus manages to convert his surprise into an unreadable mask and walks stiffly towards her.
"Marcel shouldn't have shown you these."
"No, it wasn't his fault. I asked him."
"I was- I was going to tell you about them, but there was never a good time." A swift, wry smile. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have painted you without asking. Shouldn't have painted these private moments."
"Why did you paint me?"
He ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair. Caroline realises with a jolt that he's nervous. She's never seen him anything less than self-assured.
"There was this phase where I was stuck. I would spend hours in front of a canvas and it would remain blank. And when I tried to force myself to paint, I hated the result. Nothing inspired me. Until you."
"Me?"
"Yes. When we started, you know, sleeping together, spending more time together, I began painting again. I abandoned all the crappy abstract shit and focused on painting something new." He points upstairs. "All this is because of you, Caroline." Something in his expression shifts, before it dissipates and he turns away.
She steps closer to him.
"Klaus-"
"I know, I know, these are a little creepy." He looks at the painting of her in the shower. "Don't worry, I was never going to show them to public. I'll get rid of them if you want," he adds painfully.
Caroline reaches out and touches him. "That's not what I want."
"What do you want then?" he asks, not looking at her but at her hand on his arm.
It's up to her to say something, to make the move. Suddenly, she's filled with an urge to laugh it off. To brush away the seriousness. She looks at his face and realises he's half-hoping, half-fearing she says what she's thinking. It would be easy to stay at this ledge forever. Safe, happy, content.
She can feel Klaus pulling away. She almost lets him go.
And then she thinks of what Katherine had said at the airport.
Carpe. Fucking. Diem.
Caroline takes the leap.
.
.
They're in his hotel room, intent on making up for lost time, but Caroline stops Klaus before so much as removes a shoe.
"Wait, we need to talk about this first."
Klaus groans. "Caroline, we'll do that in the morning! Right now we have more important things to do."
In one swift movement, he shucks off his jacket and Caroline has to cross to the other end of the room to physically stop herself from ripping his shirt.
"No, we're not going to make the same mistake as last time. We're doing this now!"
"Fine. Let's begin."
They pace around each other in the luxurious hotel room as if they're preparing to spar and talk about everything they should have a long time ago.
"I kissed Stefan," she blurts.
"What?"
"It was just one time. He thought there was something. Hell, I thought there was something. But that was before all this" – she gestures between them- "happened. I feel nothing now. It was like a bad dream."
"Well, I'm not going to pretend that's very good news."
"I didn't see the point of lying about it."
"Hmm." His eyes are still a little stormy.
"You don't have to worry," she says, stepping closer. "I chose you."
"You know, it's a little less complicated on my side. I've always chosen you. I don't know when it started, maybe when I met you for the first time, but you've always, unequivocally and irrevocably, been 'The One' for me." He makes sarcastic little air quotes and smiles, the widest she's ever seen him smile.
Despite herself, Caroline's eyes blur with tears. "Wow, no one has ever said anything like that to me." She takes a deep breath. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, even after we ended things. It was like this whizzing and popping in my stomach. I thought I was sick. I couldn't even face looking at Jesse."
"Okay, since we're being honest with each other, I might have slept with someone when I was in London."
"Oh."
"Aurora. It was nothing. We met at a pub and went back to her flat and-"
"Yeah, it doesn't matter but I don't really need the details."
"Fair enough."
"So?"
"So."
They stand, almost nose to nose, and grin at each other.
"We're really doing this."
"Yes, yes we are." The expression on his face shutters for a moment before he asks quietly, "Caroline are you completely sure? I can't- I won't be able to settle for just sex."
She rolls her eyes as if it's the stupidest question ever, which it is. "Of course I am."
"Okay then." He leans in but Caroline holds up a hand.
"Wait!"
"What now?"
"We need to talk about what we tell the others."
"Okay, now that can wait later," he growls, carrying her bridal style to the bed.
.
.
"To the new couple! Can't say I didn't see it coming."
"Especially me," says Stefan mock-ruefully. "I should've seen it coming ages ago." Elena smacks his arm.
"I'm glad we can joke about these things now."
"We really are a messed up bunch."
Caroline raises her glass. "That's why I love you guys."
Damon strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure about this whole 'new couple' business. I feel the same."
"Really? Isn't marriage supposed to be like falling in love all over again?"
"It's only been like half-an-hour since the ceremony," Elena points out.
"But don't you feel like a warm glow inside?" asks Stefan plaintively. "All tingly when you call each other wife and husband?"
Damon and Elena look at each other for a long time.
"Nah," they say in unison.
Katherine shrugs and calls for more champagne to their table. "Poor Stefan just had his illusions about marriage shattered."
"Hey, it's tough being the only one without a date."
Klaus frowns. "What are you talking about? I'm here too."
The entire table laughs. Even Elijah cracks a grin.
"What?" asks Caroline warily.
Katherine rolls her eyes. "You think you guys are so good at being sneaky. Well, we're smarter now."
"All the bickering-"
"Disappearing at the same times-"
"Seriously, Care, if the two of you were even half as obvious before it's a wonder we didn't notice."
"All those looks-"
"- and subtle touching-"
"It would have been nauseating if you guys weren't so goddamn cute."
Klaus looks at her blushing face and grins. "I told you they would figure it out."
"We were going to tell everyone after Damon and Elena's honeymoon! Didn't want any more drama."
Damon places a hand on his heart in affront. "How can you say that, Barbie? We always want drama. Nay, we need drama. In fact, our entire group thrives on drama."
Elena's still staring at them. She'd been strangely quiet.
Caroline sighs. "Go ahead, 'Lena. Ask away."
"So what's the deal? Is it just sex? Or are you guys together together now?"
She can feel the entire table listening.
Klaus raises their entwined hands and places a kiss on her knuckles. "Yes, we're together together."
Damon shields his eyes. "Oh my god, I cannot deal with this PDA. Save me, please." Elena rolls her eyes and drags Damon to the dance floor, and before they dance for the second time that evening as husband and wife, she gives Caroline a proud smile. And then her entire attention is on Damon.
"I can practically see heart emojis in your eyes," says Katherine, disgusted. "If you guys fuck this up, I'll have to kill you both."
"We'll do our best."
Katherine nods and then gestures at the dancing couples. "Dance?" she asks Elijah brusquely.
Elijah, never one to be rushed, dabs his mouth with a napkin (deep blue, perfectly matching the china) and slowly pushes himself off the table. He passes by Klaus and briefly lays a hand on his shoulder.
Then it's just her and Klaus and Stefan.
"More champagne?"
They clink their glasses. "To Klaroline," toasts Stefan, "or is it Carolaus?"
"Definitely not Carolaus."
"And another toast to the wedding and all the hard work and planning Caroline and Cami put into it."
"You did a brilliant job, love."
"Thank you." Caroline searches the crowd for Cami and finds her standing in a corner, an iPad in her hand. She'd taken charge of the reception in order to let Caroline spend some time with her friends. She catches Caroline's eye and flashes her a thumbs up. The event had gone successfully. Already she's amassed a number of business cards from potential clients.
Klaus leans over and whispers in her ear, "Dance with me?"
It should be illegal to be this happy, she thinks as Klaus spins her into a particularly elaborate dip.
"Show-off," she mutters.
His laugh is low and rich, and it sends an electric thrill down her spine. "You know you love it."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."
There's a comfortable lull in their conversation and Caroline lets her eyes sweep across the room, briefly settling on Stefan sitting alone at the table.
Klaus follows her gaze. "Do you think Stefan and Lexi would be next?"
"Anything's possible."
"Or maybe it's Katherine and Elijah."
"Look at you speculating about our friends getting married. What happened to the 'beginning of the end'?"
"Well-"
"And don't say any shit about this is not the end, this is the beginning," she says in her best British accent.
Klaus only laughs and pulls her closer. And when they kiss, it's like they're the only two people in the world.
"So where to next?" he asks. "Rome, Paris, Tokyo?"
When she'd told Klaus about her plans to travel, he'd simply said that he could paint from anywhere in the world. Then Marcel had an idea about doing a series of paintings on different cities and their people. It was funny how these things could fit into your life when you wanted them to.
"Slow down there, Mikaelson. Our company is hardly an international business. It's just within the country. Maybe Ireland, but that's only because Cami has like a million cousins who keep getting married."
"I wasn't actually talking about work."
"Oh, is that so? Well in that case, why not all three?"
"As you wish," he says and he leads her towards their table where everyone else has congregated once again.
Stefan holds up his glass, making yet another toast. He really does love making toasts.
"To the next chapter of our lives, and to adulthood."
"To adulthood!" they intone.
"To responsible drinking and spending less time at the bar and more time being productive members of society," he says solemnly.
The rest put their glasses down quickly.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen."
Damon ruffles his brother's hair, ruining the carefully dishevelled look.
"Who wants shots?"
.
.
It's Halloween and they're this close to winning the group costume contest at the bar. They've dressed up as Disney villains, and even Klaus deigns to put on an outfit and roam around flexing his muscles (he's Gaston of course). But another group dressed as beloved sitcom characters based in New York ("Those ironic little bitches," Katherine hisses) seem to be winning until Damon stands up on a chair and makes an impromptu, impassioned speech about how much he enjoyed killing Bambi's mom. She's pretty sure she's never seen him on the receiving end of so many dirty looks and boos since his manwhoring days in college.
So they spend the 300 dollar certificate to the bar right then, laughing and talking like it's any other night. Except Caroline keeps tripping over her Ursula tentacles and Elena's Maleficent horns keep slipping off.
"To us," Stefan toasts, splashing a little beer on the long robes that made him look like Jafar. Now that he has a spare bedroom again, he's thinking of converting it into a work space and asking Lexi to move in.
"To us," they echo. Then they cheer Katherine when she manages to score a number in her evil old lady getup by staring into the guy's eyes and biting into her apple. She clicks a picture of the number and sends it to Elijah with a wink smiley. She tells them she's been slowly trying to teach him how to use emojis.
And later, as they go through the prize money in barely three hours, Caroline knows it's going to be one of those nights where everyone passes out in the living room upstairs and wakes up with a nasty hangover, wincing at every sound and drinking strong coffee; they'd leisurely eat Chinese takeout when it's too late for breakfast and vow never to drink as much again, only to break the promise a week later.
And sitting in their favourite booth, with Klaus's arm slung around her, she thinks of the day she'd run into Elena all that time ago. It was at a coffee shop she'd usually never step into if not for an intern at Meredith's who'd recommended their latte. And even then she would've missed Elena if she hadn't come back to the counter after finishing her coffee to try out their cheesecake. She wonders what would have happened if their chance meeting had ended with a few lines of catching up while standing in line at a coffee shop. Elena and Stefan and Damon would have been relegated to those old college friends you keep a passing track of on social media and who text you on your birthday.
She wouldn't have met Katherine. She definitely wouldn't have met Klaus.
She doesn't think of it as luck or destiny. But Life, and how in its sure but twisting way leads you to the place you were supposed to be all along.
.
.
.
.
A loud buzzing interrupts her dreams. She wakes up with a groan on the now-familiar bed. Klaus is already up, she can hear him rushing about the room and getting ready. He has an early meeting with Marcel and a few investors and he'd been a little stressed about it last night. Caroline had known the perfect way to get his mind off it. She stretches her still-sore legs with a pleased sigh.
"Hey, I think Kol sent me an email last night. Can you just read it and see what he wants?" says Klaus, hastily slathering his face with shaving foam. "I'm really running late."
She yawns and leans across the bed to pick up his phone from the bedstand. She rolls her eyes at his lockscreen. It's an embarrassing picture from the time she'd tried painting with him; she's sticking her tongue out in concentration and there's a huge swathe of green paint on her cheek.
"Kol wants to talk about Esther's 70th birthday," she tells him. "They want to plan a big surprise."
"Fine, I'll call him from the cab," comes the muffled reply from the bathroom. "You'll come with me, right?"
"To London?"
"Yeah."
She nods before remembering he can't see her. "Of course."
Caroline swaps his iPhone for hers and lazily scrolls through her notifications. There's a voicemail from Cami, sounding frantic, bitching about being stood up by a blind date and asking Caroline if she wants to join her for drinks. Oops. She really should check her inbox more often.
On a whim, Caroline goes to her files where she finds a bunch of old voice notes she'd recorded. She clears them and pauses at the one she was supposed to have sent Klaus a long time ago.
She'd been unbelievably drunk, and really really pissed off. She'd called him a number of names, her voice filled with vitriol, words getting progressively slurred. She'd recorded it a few days after Damon had walked in on them, during a particularly rant-filled single girls' night with Cami and other work friends.
As she listens to it and cringes, she's glad the audio file had been forever stuck in her phone. She remembers that night only vaguely.
"- and oh, tell me this, Klaus, do you really think this is like one of those things where we realise we're more than friends and that we belong together? Because newsflash, sucker. You're absolutely, completely wrong-"
She smiles, shakes her head fondly, and deletes the message.
THE END.