AS ALWAYS, ENJOY & REVIEW!

Having been drug into the school that once by Damon, Caroline managed to motivate herself into attendance. Her grades were average, as was to be expected. To retain her position as head cheerleader, she would have to work to at least keep that way. To satisfy her own mother, however, they would have to improve greatly. To her consternation, art class was the lowest. Quite frankly, she was of the firm opinion that art should be graded on effort and not actual talent, because she did not possess one iota of artistic talent. This seemed to put her in the minority, as an unusually large number of her friends did. Jeremy came to mind, and Klaus naturally. Even Tyler was quite talented, though he rarely drew since his father's death. Put quite simply, if Caroline was to pass the class, she would have to take home the drawing that had been sitting in the classroom for weeks and turn it into a master piece over the winter break.

Her drawing shoved into an abnormally large portfolio – the types that are seen only in the hands of the seriously dedicated, or desperate in her case – Caroline drove home in dread. The mansion seemed serene, yet she sighed on getting out. Leaving the portfolio, she trudged in through the front door.

"Hello?" She called out, listening for any sound other than that of her own breathing. "Klaus?" Beautiful silence greeted her. She scrambled back to her car, yanking out the offending portfolio, and dashing back into house. By the time she'd made it upstairs, there were the definite sounds of tires crunching the gravel outside, a car pulling into the driveway beside hers. She stashed her drawing under the bed, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"Caroline." Klaus' voice carried up the stairs.

"I'm up here." She replied, sitting down on the bed casually and pulling a magazine into her lap.

"Ah. Hello, love." He stopped in the doorway, taking the time to admire the sight of her on his bed, framed in the sunlight.

"Hi." She smiled brightly. "So what did you do today?"

"Waited for you to return, of course." Only then did he come forward, leaning in to press his lips against the smooth skin of her forehead. "I'm afraid I have some bad news." Caroline nodded, forcing herself to keep his level gaze rather than glance down where his foot was precariously close to the edge of the portfolio. "There have been some developments that I must see to in New Orleans."

"Alaric?" Her voice hitched.

"No." He idly rubbed a lock of her hair with his fingers. "Just old business with some old friends."

"You have friends?" She couldn't resist the jab. His eyes flicked back to her, humor sparked in their depths.

"Friends serve many purposes, Caroline. Marcel in particular."

"Who is-"

"No one you need ever meet." He stepped back. "I must pack to travel immediately, but I dare say I won't be gone long." She jumped up, blocking him from reaching under the bed for his stored suitcase.

"I'll help." She got it herself, breathing a sigh of relief when he merely chuckled a bit at her enthusiasm.

"I see you are excited to be rid of me at last." The dry tone of his voice couldn't mask the question behind his words.

"Oh no. I'll miss you so much."

"You could come." He suggested quietly. A shot of yearning shot through her, but the toes of her boot brushed against her hidden picture, reminding her.

"I think I should stay here, for Elena and everybody, you know?" And for school, which really had been paling in comparison to everything else lately. He nodded, a pleasant mask firmly fixed on his face while he allowed the weakness of wondering what she was so earnestly hiding from him that required his absence.

Klaus was gone by nightfall, which allowed Caroline to sneak into his studio. The variety of supplies had her feeling faint. Paint? Charcoal? Graphite? Seriously, where were just the normal pencils? Setting her paper up on a propped up table, she opened drawers at random, surprised by the meticulous order to them. Then again, Klaus was an artist, therefore he would be the kind to take special care with them. She stopped, groaning as she dropped her head into her hands, fervently hoping Klaus never discovered how truly not artistic she was. How embarrassing would that be?

The door crashed open behind her. Startled, she whipped around, sending the supplies behind her flying.

"You seem to be looking for something, love." Klaus' voice was cold, his lips set in a harsh, angry manner. Her mouth could only drop open.

"Why aren't you in Louisiana?" She managed to ask, inching towards her drawing as if she could block his vision from it. He ignored her question, his eyes searching the room, and the mess she'd made.

"Quite the ransack. I must wonder what you could be looking for, in here of all places." He continued. "You've had the run of the house for quite a while now though, so perhaps you've looked everywhere else, is that right?"

"What are you talking about?" She rubbed at her forehead, at a complete loss.

"Is that why you're here?" He hissed, anger suddenly very evident in his voice. "You're friends once again set you up as my distraction so you could find something within my house? What is it? The white oak stake?" His suspicions had her falling back a step.

"You think I'd sleep with you just for some stupid stake?" She exclaimed. "I may not be Elena, and I may not always be everyone's first choice, but I sure as hell thought you – I thought that maybe you and I –" Cutting herself off, she raked a hand through her hair, willing away the tears.

"Tears won't convince me." He laughed humorously. "I've made it quite easy for you, you know. Like a naïve fool, I let you into my home. Into my soul. You are quite the actress. I was completely convinced until you gave it all away, so obviously hiding something from me. You know how I despise mysteries, Caroline. And now I find you like this, having gotten me out of the way for some time, or so you thought. If I hadn't suspected you, I daresay I would be long gone and unaware of your little games."

"All I wanted was a pencil." She murmured. "A stupid pencil to draw this stupid picture. But you couldn't know. I'm just not good enough. And you couldn't know that. I didn't want you to see." Her rambling went on, as she was prone to do when anxious. His stance changed, the hardened posture falling away as hope dawned.

"Drawing?" He repeated, his attention drawn by a careless wave of her hand. On his sketching table set a pristine piece of white paper that had been ruthlessly marred by countless attempted to create a tree and the even more numerous attempts at erasing. "You were hiding a drawing?"

"What do you care?" She said, abruptly turning back to jam the spilled supplies back into their drawers at random.

"What were you drawing?" He questioned.

"You know very well that it's a tree!" She spun back, both hands on her hips. Idly, Klaus picked up a nearby charcoal stick, dragging it across the paper lazily. "What-what are you doing?" She tried to sound demanding, intimidating, but it came out as a question anyway.

"Come here, love." Calmer now and without looking up, he drew her to stand in front of him. He wrapped her fingers around the charcoal then placed his palm along the back of her hand. Their linked hands flicked across the paper, the swept across as the branches became a reality.

"I drew a tree." She murmured, a slight smile in her voice. Resting his chin on her shoulder, Klaus eyed the drawing dubiously. It lacked a certain creativity or any real detail, but it was mostly definitely a tree.

Rather than say anything, he dropped a kiss on the side of her head before stepping back and wondering into the bedroom. She sighed. That was his way of apologizing, of letting her know that he trusted her to not go ransacking the house while he was absent. This way, he just didn't have to actually admit it out loud. Impatiently, she flicked her wrist, wincing when the charcoal stopped cooperating without his touch to steady it.