Disclaimer: I own nothing but a much loved DVD of You've Got Mail and too many feelings about Caroline and Klaus on TVD.
Tugging lightly at a loose curl, Caroline idly twirled the lock of hair around her finger as she read through the bookkeeping reports. The bakery's sunny office was usually reserved for Bonnie and her spreadsheets, but Caroline had been spending more time going over the numbers since Mikaelson Brews had opened.
Luckily, she had a pretty good, built-in excuse.
"I don't know why I expected you to give up these investor reports once you paid us back," her father sighed, his amusement clear over their video chat. "It sounds like everything is going fine, even with the new competition."
Caroline glanced up from where she was annotating Bonnie's accounting charts. "Maybe right now, but I want you to be prepared in case things start to change."
Leaning away from his screen, Bill Forbes laced his fingers patiently on his desk. Atlanta high rises towered in the window behind him. "I do run my own business, honey, and your numbers aren't scaring me yet."
"Private security and cookies are two very different things, Daddy," she countered. "I see your point, I just wouldn't be me if I didn't keep you in the loop."
"I know." His smile was fond, as it should have been since he was the one to foster her perfectionist's attention to detail. "But that's enough business for today. It's been ages since we've talked. You're not back with that boy, are you?"
Caroline hesitated at the question of her personal life, or the lack thereof. The breakup with Tyler had been surprisingly amicable despite the uncomfortable conversation over lunch a month earlier. Maybe he didn't understand why the bakery was so important to her, but even he could see that their differing priorities wouldn't have ended well.
"No, I've just been busy with the bakery, trying to find the balance between cutting costs and maintaining the things that make Mystic Mystic." It wasn't easy for her to concede to Bonnie's thoughtful suggestions for streamlining their menu and schedule. Determined not to cut back on everyone's hours, the hardest part for Caroline was to close the main area for breakfast in favor of the walk-up window. She did win the fight to set a couple of tables outside and to open in case of bad weather, but their offerings were still limited to hand-held treats.
And maybe she had been throwing herself into work to avoid thinking about her newly single state. After the breakup, Caroline had gone through her usual mourning routine of ice cream, sappy movies, and a final girls night out to dance and flirt with strangers. Still, Bonnie had eyed her over their violently green margaritas when she turned away more than a few cute men.
She was flattered by the attention at the club, but Tyler wasn't the only heartbreak she had been trying to heal; it wasn't a warm body she was missing the most. Her phone remained stubbornly silent on the desk, its blank screen far too distracting for Caroline to focus on the numbers before her.
OriginalHybrid hadn't contacted her since that awful night in the bookstore.
Some days, she found herself opening one of their email threads, not sure how - or even if - they could find their footing again. As angry as she had been, as disappointed as she still was, Caroline couldn't help but miss him. She refused to let the embarrassment of his rejection scare her from the Society message boards, but it was almost worse when she realized he had stopped posting altogether.
The wondering drove her crazy. What could have happened to push him away? She had yet to drum up the courage to reach out, let alone to ask.
"I'm sure everything will work out."
Startled by her dad's voice, Caroline tried not to show that she almost forgot he was still on the line. "Yeah," she smiled too brightly, "yeah, everything's good. Um, we're closing up soon so I should help clean. I love you! Give Steven a hug for me."
Bill chuckled indulgently, all too familiar with her avoidance tactics. "Okay, honey, I love you, too. Don't work too hard."
Rolling her eyes, her smile fell into something more genuine. "Pot, kettle," she teased before hanging up. With a deep breath, her eyes slid shut. The lightly chemical smell of cleaning products was almost as comforting as the bakery's usually buttery aroma, and she pushed herself up from the desk to work out some of her stress on polishing the counter.
A burst of laughter welcomed her to the front room, where Bonnie and Davina were chatting happily with Rebekah Mikaelson.
Perhaps the only thing more frustrating than the Mikaelson Brew heiress becoming a regular around the bakery was the fact that Caroline had been warming to the idea that she was actually a decent friend. A judgmental, spoiled brat, but Rebekah was also wickedly smart and surprisingly generous. Her fresh fruit smoothie budget alone was probably keeping Mystic afloat.
Honestly, it took Caroline a long while to overcome her bad opinion of Rebekah and the family that shall not be named. Suspicion had slowly given way to an acknowledgment of Rebekah's determination to strike out on her own, then to an appreciation for her determination to open an event planning business someday. She almost felt a kindred spirit within her, and she wanted to laugh at how much things could change in just a few weeks.
Caroline ducked into their housekeeping cabinet for a rag and some cleaning solution. "Hey," she greeted, "you all seem happy. What'd I miss?"
"I'm planning a birthday party for Kol," Rebekah explained with a mischievous grin. "We were just brainstorming themes and decorations."
"Mirrors," Davina snorted, unable to contain a giggle.
Rebekah gave a world-weary sigh as she wrote the suggestion into her planner. "The little narcissist would probably love that." Checking her watch, she begins to pack up her things. "I have a late lunch to get to. Bonnie, you'll handle it?"
Frowning, Caroline glanced at Bonnie, who just nodded uneasily as Rebekah waved goodbye. "Caro, call me when you've made a decision, and be ready to negotiate!" The door whooshed shut, and Davina quickly made herself scarce to clean the kitchen.
"What am I negotiating?" Caroline dropped her rag to cross her arms defensively. And she thought she was done being suspicious of Rebekah.
Bonnie rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone. "Rebekah wants Mystic Bakery to cater the party's dessert spread." She showed Caroline the screen, filled with lists and expected guests and budgets.
"Oh." Caroline accepted the phone, confused as to what Bonnie was so worried about. "We cater all the time, and the order looks pretty standard. I don't even see any details to play hardball over. Sure, I'm not a huge fan of getting locked into a room with the Mikaelsons, but depending on the site I can either hide in the kitchen or just handle delivery and cleanup. Enzo is better for parties, anyway, and-"
"Care, it's supposed to be a test," Bonnie interrupted. "What Rebekah really wants is a priority vendor contract with us. Mystic Bakery would have the first chance to cater her events if we can guarantee a preference for her orders, maybe throw some business her way if we hear someone's looking for a planner."
Her mouth dropped open to argue, but Bonnie held up her hands to silently plead for patience. "It's not exclusive, we can still take individual orders and we would only have to take half of the events she brings us in a year to renew the contract."
Shaking her head, Caroline turned to start wiping down the counter. "Oh, sure, let's trust a Mikaelson to look out for our interests, it's not like they're completely ruthless when it comes to business." Her voice dripped with bitterness as she scrubbed.
"Yes, Rebekah is a Mikaelson, but I think she does want this to benefit the both of us. The Brews is incredibly successful, but you've heard her talk about how she's always wanted something different. Just think about it, okay? Kol's birthday party is going to be a great paycheck, regardless of what it might lead to."
With an irritated grumble, Caroline focused on the marble countertop. "For someone who's so sure we can withstand the rest of that demon family, you're awfully ready to buy a safety net from them."
Bonnie smiled wanly as she tapped on her phone. "I just emailed you the particulars for both the party and the contract. All I'm asking is for you to consider the opportunity." Grabbing the last muffin from the display case, she gave a sympathetic shrug. "It won't hurt just to read it over."
Her own phone dinged with a notification as Bonnie went into the kitchen. Caroline knew it was the email she had just sent, but a part of her still hoped it might have come from someone else.
He absently swirled the ice in his glass as he waited for Rebekah to arrive, the trendy restaurant she chose bustling around him. Klaus had hardly seen his family over the last month; even Elijah only received email reports related to the business. Between checking in with Marcel at the new location and taking extended scouting trips around the country, he mainly found himself secluded in his art studio.
So many canvases started and painted over, yet Klaus still had no idea what he was trying to capture. His frustration was building to dangerous levels, specters of Chicago haunting him with hopes of release and creative abandon.
"You're alive, that's good to know." Rebekah's sneer broke into his musings, not that he was surprised at the tone. Her lunch invitations had grown more threatening the longer he avoided them. "Though I'm not sure why I bother to care if I'm so easily cast off. Perhaps I should send flowers to Cami for putting up with you."
Blinking, Klaus struggled not to shift uncomfortably. He'd barely seen his girlfriend in a week since he developed a habit of sleeping at his studio, but his sister was willing to send her flowers. "I don't think she'll be willing to for much longer," he admitted, taking a swing of his drink.
Rebekah arched a brow in surprise, covering it quickly with a scoff. "Good for her, then." She flagged down a waiter, sending him off for a club soda. "So, what have you been doing and why does it excuse ignoring your sister?"
"Traveling for work, as I'm sure Elijah told you," he shrugged. "Painting some."
A grimace of concern flashed across her face. She picked up her napkin, coolly laying it across her lap. "And I trust the new shop is going well, keeping us rich?"
"Well enough." Klaus forced a smile, relieved when the waiter returned for their orders. Rebekah was likely cajoled into the lunch charade by Elijah himself, whose invitations had also been repeatedly ignored. Business had been draining of late and the last thing Klaus wanted to focus on. As their server retreated, he took the distraction as an opportunity to change the subject. "Kol's birthday is coming up."
"Yes, I've been planning his party." Sitting up straighter, Rebekah looked almost nervous. "Elijah's agreed to use this as a trial run for my business plan. If it goes well, he's going to lend me the start-up money."
Klaus nodded. "If not now, then it would have happened when you graduate next year."
Rolling her eyes, Rebekah sipped her drink. "That's hardly the point. I'm tired of waiting for a measly piece of paper when I know events are exactly what I want to do. I know the trends, I have the contacts, and I can handle budgets."
"A business is more than budgets, Bekah." He grimaced at the immediate anger in her eyes. "I don't mean to be condescending, I'm only speaking from experience."
She softened, but only barely. "I appreciate the lessons you learned the hard way, Nik, but it won't be the same for me. I have family here, friends. One of them is even an accountant, and she's happy to take me on as a client."
"Of course she is, you're a Mikaelson."
With a sharp laugh, Rebekah shook her head. "Please, Bonnie's helping me in spite of the family name, making sure I never have to rely on the Brews for my success."
Confused, he struggled to connect the name, though it wasn't entirely unfamiliar. "Bonnie who?"
"Bonnie Bennett," she all but crowed. "Mystic Bakery is her main client. Only client, really, so she has plenty of time for me."
Klaus stared into his glass, trying not to frown miserably. Call it punishment, maybe even cowardice, but he had taken every precaution of avoiding the temptation that was Caroline Forbes. Shame still flushed his ears when he thought of that night in the bookstore, and he made sure to stay away from the Society's message boards for fear of doing something stupid, like writing to her. Though he dearly missed the companionship she provided as BarbieBlonde, he had no right to enjoy her presence through any means. After so long, surely she must hate him. He cleared his throat, sounding hoarse when he asked, "Because the bakery isn't doing well?"
Rebekah just sipped her drink, unconcerned. "They're managing. But I'm not here to talk insider business," she announced. "Why have you been avoiding us?"
"Ah," Klaus sighed. He ought to have expected it, he supposed, lulled into a complacency by shop talk. "I told you-"
"Yes, yes, scouting developments and painting," Rebekah rattled off dismissively. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact you've been broody and miserable. Well, more than usual. What little I do see of you, however, includes decidedly less attachment to your phone than I remember." With a shrewd look, she seemed to consider whether or not to continue. "Did your girlfriend finally give up on you?"
Startled, his eyes popped wide open. "Cami-"
"We both know that's not who I'm talking about." Her head tipped as she examined his reaction. "Kol may be oblivious and Elijah too blinded to notice anything not connected to the Brews," she scoffed, "but for the last year, you've been secretive and besotted whenever some notification pops up - at least, until recently."
Clearing his throat, Klaus shook his head definitively. "I wasn't having an affair."
Rebekah's eyebrow arched. "Maybe not physically," she conceded, "but you're still an arse, Nik. So, what happened?"
He couldn't meet her searching gaze, instead staring down at his glass once more. "It doesn't matter now."
"Pity, I almost looked forward to Cami tearing you to shreds."
"If she knew," Klaus muttered, "she never let on. I honestly haven't cared enough to ask."
With a stern glare, Rebekah nodded. "Perhaps it's time you do something about that."
The bag of takeaway felt heavier with each step as he walked home, his other hand tugging lightly at his hair. Rebekah's words were running on a loop in his head; though self-awareness wasn't often a strength of his, even he could acknowledge that she had a point - or several - when it came to his behavior of late. Moody, withdrawn, irritable, all unfortunately true, and all too reminiscent of a time Klaus had hoped he had left behind him.
Elijah had been the one to pull him back to reality in Chicago, tossing him into rehab as quietly as he could. Not that the drugs were really his addiction, more a coping mechanism to balance his growing popularity as an artist against the mounting pressure of meeting his responsibilities to the gallery.
He might have had the Mikaelson head for business, just not when he was plied with money and fame for himself alone. The fame had died down, his name mentioned only in warnings for new artists on the scene, just another 'talent gone wrong' sob story to serve as a bad example. The money would have kept, had he not needed every penny to cover the gallery's embarrassing collapse under his lack of management. But the family was there, and any resentment Klaus held for the Brews would be reduced to snide comments and a quiet gratitude for the security provided.
The life he was able to build, however, wasn't just his. He owed Camille more than what he'd given in years, what little there was paled in comparison to the comfort and stability he had taken for granted again and again. At the very least, she deserved honesty.
Letting himself into the apartment, Klaus called out, "I know you said you weren't hungry, but I picked up Chinese food." His brow furrowed at the bare apartment. The furniture was there, it was small things missing that caught his attention; a gaudy blue vase she excitedly found at a flea market, the fuzzy blanket she used when she worked at the dining room table. It usually hung haphazardly from a chair, an absence that set him at odds from the familiarity of their home. "Camille?"
"I almost didn't think you'd show." Klaus turned to find her in the doorway, a large box in her arms.
He set down the takeaway bag, the oily food smell mingling with his unease to make him feel sick. "I texted you." The flare of defensive anger was instinctual, though Klaus knew full well he had earned her ire. "I know I haven't been here-"
Scoffing, Camille shifts the box in her arms, only to shrug him off when he offers to take it from her. "Nope, you haven't been. I figured it must have been the woman you were seeing, but Hayley heard from Elijah that you were at the studio. At least you weren't dead, right?"
Klaus winced. "I've never cheated on you," he offered weakly.
"Oh, please." She finally dropped the box, and he could see her DVDs stacked inside. "Maybe not this week, but the secret texts, emails? I'm not an idiot, Klaus. Let me guess, your resurgent depressive episode is because she broke up with you?"
Frowning, he raked a hand through his hair. "It's not like that-"
"Okay," Camille snapped, "whatever, Klaus. I don't even care anymore. Clearly, I need to work on my own issues since you've been having an affair, emotional or otherwise," and she holds up a finger when he opens his mouth to argue, "but I'm more upset that you can just text me after a week of radio silence, like this is a normal, healthy relationship."
His hands on his hips, Klaus nodded, knowing what was coming.
Camille sighed, shaking her head when it was clear he didn't want to fight. "God, I'm breaking up with you, and you still don't care." She picked up the box, a sense of finality in her expression. "Hayley's letting me crash for a while. I have to admit, a part of me was hoping you'd try to get me to stay."
"Then why move your things?" Klaus asked, confused.
"Because I knew if I let you brush this off as a fight, then I might never leave," she admitted, sounding tired. "We let ourselves get too comfortable, right? That's how we even got into this mess."
Licking his lips, Klaus took a deep breath. "For what it's worth, I am sorry."
With a hoarse, morbid laugh, Camille opens the door to leave. "I don't want your apologies, Klaus. I wanted you to love me." When he didn't bother to offer belated declarations, though, she smiled ruefully. "I only took my things, you can send any theft accusations through Hayley."
"Take it all," Klaus shrugged. The problem that was becoming abundantly clear was how the apartment never felt like home. "I don't want it."
"Yeah." Unshed tears clogging her throat, Camille shook her head once more. "Yeah, I know."
And she left.
Klaus rubbed a hand across his mouth, waiting for some realization to wash over him. First Rebekah's accusation, then Camille leaving…something should have clicked, surely. Instead, he just felt hollow.
Heading back to the bedroom - now just his - Klaus found his sketchbook. After a week of stalling over canvases in his studio, maybe a return to basics was what he needed. He settled himself in the living room, turning the TV to some soap opera drivel to fill the apartment with sound to dampen the sudden loneliness. His fingers drifted across the page, the charcoal pencil only lightly dragging along the paper.
It wasn't until he recognized the curly ponytail resting against the open back of an evening gown that Klaus felt the realization he had been waiting for. Maybe his relationship with Camille wasn't a good one, but that dysfunction started with his lack of effort. If he ever hoped for a healthy relationship, he would have to try.
Caroline Forbes, even half-sketched in a bitter memory, made him want to try.
He reached for his phone, automatically opening the app he used for the Society. Ignoring the curious messages from other members who had noticed his absence from the discussion board, Klaus scrolled until he found BarbieBlonde.
The negative part of him rose up, pointing out that she was likely better off without his involvement. Like Rebekah said, Mystic Bakery was doing well, no thanks to him and the Brew. What right did he have to put his issues on her, especially now that he knew who she was while she had reason to hate both sides of him?
He typed a message quickly before his insecurity got the best of him.
OriginalHybrid: I could hardly blame you for ignoring this, but I miss you.
Sending the brief admission, Klaus closed his eyes. She wouldn't answer. He shouldn't get his hopes up.
Typing bubbles appeared, and his breath caught in his throat. A response so soon wouldn't be a good one, right? A new text popped up, and Klaus forced himself to exhale before reading it.
BarbieBlonde: How are you going to fix that?
A/N: ...hi! I'm sorry this isn't a better chapter after taking so long to write it, but I hope it's a start to the back half of this story. I can't wait to hear your thoughts, you can review here or catch me on Tumblr!
