The house was eerily silent when Caroline returned at dawn, her hand placed firmly in Klaus'. They tiptoed over empty bottles and sticky red cups that littered the floor in a sea of garbage. She sighed wearily, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of a teenage rager, she suggested they go upstairs. Her body felt sluggish and tired after the night's events, and she wanted nothing more than a bath and a good night's rest; the thought of Klaus sharing her bed made her all the more eager to be in it.

"Go ahead," she nudged Klaus towards the stairs, a playful smile on her face, "You know the way."

In her study, she found an untouched bottle of scotch, deciding to pour herself a late nightcap before joining Klaus in her room. She wanted a moment to herself to properly think. Breathe, she thought to herself, and not for the first time that night. It was becoming her new mantra: in the face of all these strange, new sensations, Caroline's only coping mechanism was an unnecessary human habit. Before, not even her siblings could stop her when she was in a rage. They fled to relative safety, opting to watch her deathly tantrums from a distance, returning when they deemed it safe enough. But it all changed when she saw him. She was furious. She wanted to tear him limb from limb, anyone she happened to encounter in the forest. He stopped her; one look and she felt as if she were a deer caught in his piercingly blue headlights. In all her millennia, she had never found a force so heartstoppingly powerful and she wanted to both posses and destroy him.

Though they spent hours in the solitude of the forest, an unspoken question still lingered between them.

What are we doing?

Though she had, so far, managed to artfully dodge that damned question, her search for the answers busied her thoughts. It was all she could think about. Her life was one, big, complicated puzzle, and, though she dared to admit, she could find no space where he truly belonged. She haphazardly pushed that concern to the back of her mind, and finished her drink with a swig.

Slowly, Caroline ascended the stairs, her path deviating to make a few pauses at the bedroom doors on the second floor. She peeked her head into Tyler's room, finding it empty. His duffle bag sat, untouched, in the middle of his unmade bed, a burst of clothes sloppily shoved into it. Like always, he'd left his packing to the last minute. She figured he must've discarded the bag, and spent the night at his family's house. She made a mental note to call him later. Rebekah's room also proved to be in a similar empty state, she left a hastily written note on her bed.

Not that you would care, sister, it read, in her familiar, loopy script. But I've moved out to my own apartment. I'll be back for my things later. Don't bother calling.

She placed the note back on Rebekah's meticulously made bed, and shut the door behind her quietly. Caroline paused in her step, her hand lingering absentmindedly on the staircase banister as she looked ahead thoughtfully, her eyes landing on the open doorway of her bedroom on the top floor. In it, she knew, was maybe the only person in the world who didn't hate her at that very moment; though, deep down, she knew it would only be a matter of time until he too would succumb.

Caroline's laugh, Klaus thought, was the most beautiful sound in the world. Sitting across him, in her decadently enormous bathtub, her golden hair damp, her cheeks bright and pink, he would have mistaken her for a sprite. She splashed soapy water at him, an impish smile on her lips as she pulled herself closer. She sat on his knees, her hands wading back and forth along the length of his bare legs.

"What is this?" Caroline's slender fingers ran tentatively over the pale crisscross of scars that marred his skin. Her eyes narrowed in concern, and Klaus could see the beginnings of pity overtaking her features. He was under the impression that she would hardly notice the smattering of marks across the pale smoothness of his chest. He was wrong.

He stilled under her hand, grabbing it with his own. "Nothing," he said, kissing her knuckles to lessen the sting of his rejection. Inside, he recoiled at the thought of ruining their perfect, quiet morning. Caroline had seemed reserved and unusually absorbed the moment they re-entered her home. He had long given up on figuring her moods, and instead endeavoured to coax out the lively, sprightly, Caroline he knew.

"Oh," she muttered, disappointed. She withdrew her hand, growing silent with each passing moment. He could feel her slipping away through his fingers, and he sat up, determined to appease her curiousity.

"If you must know," he began. He exhaled heavily, reluctantly. "They're marks from a past life."

"Past life?" Caroline echoed, her head tilting adorably to the side. He smiled wistfully, pulling her into his arms. She automatically laid her head against his chest, her breath hot against his skin. As she began to speak, she placed her palm against his heart, her fingers atop the scars.

"Did it hurt?" She asked quietly.

"I can hardly remember," he shrugged. "Though I believe it would have. I was still painfully human."

"Tell me about it," she removed her hand, placing a tender kiss on his chest.

Klaus sunk deeper into the tub, the water and lavender bubbles settling around them. He ran his finger across his bottom lip, deep in thought.

"You don't have to," Caroline added softly.

He kissed the top of her golden crown, "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"From the beginning," she prodded him, smirking, and he let out a small laugh.

"I don't remember my real parents," he started, his expression sobering as he delved deep into his hazy, human memories. His eyebrows knit together in concentration, his mind flew back to a time he'd so scarcely remembered. "I was an orphan… the servant of an old man who operated a printing press. He worked long hours and had a terrible temper, I doubt even you could outmatch him."

Caroline quietly laughed, though she remained resolutely silent. She nodded, urging him to continue.

"There was a big change going on: a shift in book making or something or other," he waved his hand around airily, his thoughts now thoroughly ensconced in the past. If he focused especially hard, he could almost smell the familiar aroma of ink and burning wood. "He'd send me out on errands all the time. He was a busy man, and very meticulous. Understandably, he'd lash out when something was out of place.

"But he wasn't terrible. Sometimes he'd sit me down and teach me to read and write like he could. He said it would be easier for me if I knew, working with books and manuscripts, and the like… which is, I suppose, how I came to love literature.

"All in all, it wasn't such a bad life. I was given opportunities far beyond a poor orphan's expectations," he nodded, falling silent.

Caroline sniffed, surreptitiously wiping away at her damp eyes. She shied away when he looked down at her, hiding behind a veil of hair before she composed herself. "I think that's enough reminiscing for one morning," she said lightly, as he reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear. She pressed her lips to his, capturing his face between her hands. "Thank you for sharing with me."

"Now, I think it's time we get back into bed," He grinned as he pulled away, his hands seizing the backs of her thighs, pressing her body flush against him. She gasped as he lifted her up and out of the tub, the water dripping from their glistening skin.

"Shall we?"

A/N: a really big thank you to An Irish Klaus, Layaboo, Marandast, and Tvdlover87654 for the really wonderful reviews. I can't stress how much I love receiving them.

I know some people were curious as to Klaus' back story. Well, here ya go. Though, keep in mind that I'm not really a 16th Century English scholar. So I do apologise to any history buffs out there for the inaccuracies. I'm going off internet research, ha.