Replica Velocity - This may fall on deaf ears as you've chosen to stop reading, which is totally okay and your choice, but I want to just stress something to you, which is something I've been trying to stress since the beginning of this saga. This story originated after 3x14, progressed through the point where they were attempting to dessicate Alaric, and in this fic, succeeded. The events following that and leading up to this here and now, are fabricated and completely unrelated to the show or the incarnations of Klaus and Caroline (or any character for that matter) as they are presented in canon. This story IGNORES both shows depiction of the characters so to make the comparison is really just redundant as I've deviated completely from those templates and molded these two into something of my own, if you would. And I don't WANT to incorporate the characters as they are now in the shows because I don't like who they've become. As the writer, that's my choice. I understand it isn't to everyone's tastes. And I understand my writing has gotten lazy. I've owned up to that once or twice as of late because yeah, I've been really burnt out and it's been hard to get updates out without having to sacrifice a little bit of quality. I'm sorry to see you go and it really did hurt when you said you were done reading mainly because I know you've been here with me from the start, but I don't begrudge you of your choice. I do thank you so much for even giving me and my story as much time and attention as you did. I just hope you hold no ill will, as I certainly don''t hold any.

KingNeilz - I don't think so. That was the first time I addressed the Damon situation with Klaus. Maybe you're thinking of when she talked to Kol about it in Uncharted Territory?

jessnicole - Oh! lol Well I just meant he's bound to go a little coo-coo-bananas what with these hallucinations and such. He won't intentionally do anything towards Caroline, however. Sorry I scared you! :P

S K Steven - I swear I thought that was something implied for some reason. It's kinda too late to incorporate it now but maybe down the line when Lyall is a butt again. Did I say when? I meant IF. ;)

Katelyn852 - I love the Koroline friendship too much to let it stay sullied. But it is a little tainted right now. Don't worry, no one can stay mad at Kol for long.

Sakuraraestar - Yay! Read more, read more!

JuseaPeterson - Ryanne and Rebekah are very fun and interesting to play with right now. I love my Ryanne cause she's kind of just unafraid in all areas of life. I mean, the only bad thing about the bond is that it was a bit of a device to spark some tension for Klaroline. Being attached informally or formally to another woman is so not okay. But Lyall's intentions with it are pretty much transparent.

Valy - D'awww! Thank you so much sweetheart! Your English is phenomenal, never apologize.

rebbecca1 - Yeah that's why I had a preconceived notion that some people might not appreciate the way I handled it, because of his tough love approach. However I really think that Klaus wouldn't just be a big softy and let her be mopey about it. He's the one that calls her on her sh*t and I think he knew she did need it, even if it wasn't exactly the best execution on his part.

Candycolabear - You totally deserve the signed copy, my love.

RedLovesBlack - I'm pretty sure I did cry a little writing some of that the first go around.

Ellavm18 - Yay! You're welcome!

Vangogh92 - YAS SEAN BEAN! That's awesome, I'm glad I depicted him well enough for you to get that before I'd even mentioned it. Awww yay you can totally be my groupie and I will love you forever. Just don't hate me if I take a little while to update. (Life's freaking hectic right now!) Oh em gee, my descriptions of Florence. Now here's the kicker. I haven't ever been out of the US so my knowledge comes from extensive research. When it comes to having to write descriptions of things and places I've never seen, you best believe I am searching for every angle of the place, how it looks day and night, peoples' experiences on their blogs, Wikipedia intel, travel websites, you name it. I am such a stickler when it comes to details and so fearful that I will destroy someone's home through terrible imagery that I have to be thorough. So woohoo! Thank you for validating my existence and telling me I did that well! "Keep it up"...I see what you did there. ;)

There aren't enough praises in the world to sing about how amazing all of you readers are.
I will continue to spew cheesy words of gratitude for all of you until I haven't a breath (or fingers) left because y'all just rock.
Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following.

Just one question before I let you guys go read... DID YA SEE THE ENDGAME IN THAT TVD FINALE? ;)

Chapter 38

An emotional upheaval of that nature called for rest, so he escorted her to her room and let her sleep, trying not to let himself be consumed by the latent rage from the situation. Instead, Klaus locked away in his study, immersing himself in old scriptures of werewolf lore and trying to determine the meaning behind this blood mate ritual. He was up all night going back and forth between the words on the pages and the words in his head. The old adages told him nothing more than Ryanne had, which wasn't much. The bond was severable through distancing, albeit permanent in the eyes of the pack. No other wolf of their pack would or could claim either of them, but that was of no concern to him. Pack or not, he owed no allegiance to those who hadn't earned it. After all, he was only half-wolf.

As he attempted to read on about the history of his kind, his focus began to wane. He hadn't even noticed the sun had risen and that a new day had begun. The clock said he'd been in there twelve hours. The sounds across the villa said Elijah and Rebekah were awake. Exhaustion was starting to overcome him yet there were still so many thoughts running through his mind at full speed, so many things that he couldn't control or resolve. Words danced along the page until he succumbed to the wormhole that was his mind.

Whatever was going on with him was now beginning to directly affect Caroline, as was evident by his decline in control when he was close to shifting. His wolf was gleeful to be let loose and it took advantage of its dominance by hurting her. That was something he had yet to cope with personally because every time he let himself dwell on it, he flashed back to the nightmare where her heart was in his hand and her body in a heap at his feet. He had to actively remind himself that it wasn't real, but the fear still lingered. Whatever was destroying him was slowly getting worse.

Physical disasters were only half the battle. He was still struggling with some of the things brought to his attention when her mother had been present, not to mention his own plethora of self-loathe and deprecation. Troubling thoughts filtered through the cracks, making him second guess what kind of man he was and what kind of man she needed. And he had yet to figure out which was the one she wanted. It led him to question the very things Liz Forbes was questioning – if he hadn't whisked her away, would she have pursued her aspirations of education and career? Did her plans only change upon his influence, and if that were the case, could he handle the responsibility? One little decision to scour the world with him might have changed her life completely. Not that he was living up to that particular promise as of late, which only made the cross harder to bear.

And now to hear about what she'd suffered by Damon's hand? It was unbelievably infuriating. He had half a mind to call on his hybrids in Mystic Falls so that a tragic accident might befall him, but he knew better than to go against her wishes, especially when she held her friends' hearts so dear. What he couldn't fathom was why? Certainly their sense of camaraderie and loyalty was skewed beyond belief, not to mention their sense of morality. To have forgiven such wretched and vile behavior for the sake of love?

And then a startling thought – perhaps they thought just as much of him. For all her rage and hate for Damon, they could have just as much for him and that was something that could truly affect her perception. Were the two of them really any different when you boiled down the waters of reason? He was just as unworthy and irreparable. And truly, how had his treatment of her been any better? He kept secrets, used avoidance and deliberate cruelty to prove his points. Worst of all, he compelled her and now that the truth was revealed, he felt sickened by his actions. If he had known - but no. That wasn't a viable excuse. He should never have had the thought to compel her in the first place. It was selfish and shallow and careless that he could treat her as invaluably as he'd treated others.

He sat, staring hypocrisy in the face and wondering how he hadn't seen it before. If he had known, if he had had a clearer head, if he had listened...

She was so strong and full of light, not just by appearance and physical stamina, but by the life she had lived and the tragedies she'd endured. She was someone who still believed, even despite what tortures she'd been through, that hope would triumph and the world was still good at heart. She had looked true evil in the eyes and was still conquering her demons. Much like he was. Though she had the incredibly capacity to forgive, to tolerate the injustices and choose her battles, knowing when something was worth making an effort for and when it wasn't. She could trust and believe in people, and that was his greatest downfall.

On top of everything else, there was the issue of Ryanne.

The technical details were no excuse. She was right. Whether he or his wolf was responsible, the actions were his own. He was at fault, no matter what.

But that wasn't entirely true. Was it? What was the truth? How did it happen if not for animal instinct? He could recall the events, but not his emotions during. He could remember the way her flesh tore so easily beneath his fangs, how her blood tasted different, how her pained moan became a blissful sigh, but he could not remember if he liked it, if he wanted to do it. Some part of him must have or why would he have done it? Or was his fate premeditatedly sealed by the magical puppeteer that might be pulling his strings?

Perhaps he was weak.

No! There was no such entity as a weak Mikaelson.

Fear is man's greatest weakness. A son who cowers in fear is no son of mine. Get up and face me, boy!

Suddenly a rush of anger burned through his veins and he felt shame. How could he think so little of himself? How could he let himself be swayed by such trivial notions and abandon every standard he'd set for himself? Who was he becoming?

Or would she decline the man he'd been in favor of the man he was? And who was he right now? Or was he now the man he'd once been? The man he'd been avoiding? Was he now the very thing he'd sworn never to be? Was he the man he'd called his father? Or was he truly his father's son and blind to Lyall's intentions and malcontent? All the thoughts swarmed his mind and he couldn't make sense of any of it. Nothing seemed right, everything wrong, and yet something didn't seem right with the wrong or wrong with the right, and how the bloody hell was he supposed to know good from bad anyway? Or was it all grey? Everything felt fuzzy. The room felt distant and sound was lost. The words on the pages danced before his eyes, spelling out taunts as if to mock him. Alone. Lonely. Unloved. Monster. Death. Die. Die. Die.

He shoved the book away and got up, making for the exit and stumbling into the doorway. He fumbled with the handle and shoved the door to the hallway open, drinking in the air as if it were somehow different and more nourishing than the air in his studio. He blinked once, twice, and the his vision returned, and he could hear the shuffling sounds of Caroline opening a blood bag in her room. He swallowed and gave himself a minute to recover and reassure himself that he could move then walked carefully to his bedroom.

It should have been no surprise to him that Tatia was there waiting for him, leaning against one of his bedposts.

He paused, briefly startled by her presence, then rolled his eyes and ignored her, brushing past towards his dresser. He kept his back to her as he dug through the drawers looking for his sketchpad and she said nothing, but her presence was overwhelming.

"Can't you find a better use for your time?" he said dully.

"Can't you?"

He slammed the drawer closed in defeat and continued disregarding her. He made his way to his en suite, turning the light on and hovering over the sink, looking wearily at his reflection.

"You cannot avoid it forever."

He gripped the sink, angrily. "The only thing I am trying to avoid is you."

"You could have told her. You chose not to." He ignored her still but his shoulder muscles tensed. "You cannot say it because you do not mean it. And you do not mean it because you do not feel it."

He snarled and sped out to attack but she'd disappeared. He blinked away his disorientation and sighed shakily in relief but it was short lived.

"We do not care, we do not feel."

He whipped around again toward the sound of her voice but saw nothing, only heard her cackling mockery. He growled through gritted teeth, his eyes darting around the room. "I have told her all I need to. She knows my loyalty lies with her, unlike you who lies and manipulates the truth, stringing along however many men."

"Don't be rash, Niklaus." She was on his bed now, legs crossed, smoothing her skirt. "You know I only ever wanted Elijah. It was you who wanted to take me away from him."

He turned around, eyes wide. "You told me you loved me."

"And you believed me. And Caroline believes you, and so we complete the circle."

"No." He shook his head defiantly.

"No?"

"You will not manipulate me again."

"I already have. Or do you doubt your own mind?"

"You are not my mind."

"Then what am I? A ghost?" She laughed and it trickled through him with an eerie chill. She was behind him suddenly and her arms engulfed him in an embrace. "You held me like this when we danced, do you remember?" He shivered and closed his eyes, trying to will her away. "My sweet Niklaus."

"Why are you doing this, Tatia?"

"Am I doing this, or are you?"

"Enough with the mind games." He tore her arms off of him and held her wrists tightly as he turned to face her. "Answer the bloody question!"

"You know why."

He exhaled heavily through his nose in frustration and dropped her arms sharply. "Have it your way, then." He turned to leave her but she was there before he could take a step.

"Are you so far gone that you cannot see your wrongs? Will you continue to justify your actions with meaningless words?"

He tried to escape her but she was there again, every which way he dodged.

"Stop running," she told him. "If you want me to leave you must accept what is your fault and take responsibility for your actions." He swallowed nervously as she widened her eyes in the slightest and leaned in to whisper, "You must repent."

His heart gave a heavy thump in panic and before he could address it he heard a faint sound of a child's giggling in the distance. He turned his head towards the open doorway, confused. When he looked back to question her, Tatia was gone. The laughter echoed from the hall and drew his attention to the door once more in fear. He knew what he would see if he left the room. He clenched his jaw, hesitant to go forth, but he followed the sound of the laughter as it grew in volume. He carefully made his way out into the hallway and froze at the sight of his youngest brother running toward him, his giggles gaining weight.

"Nik!"

He ran toward him and Klaus nearly stumbled at the force of his hug. He couldn't move, overwhelmed with confusion and terror. His heart was wretched at the sight of Henrik. He stood rigid in his embrace, paralyzed by fear and awe, and the horrifying understanding that he wasn't real shattered him. Slowly Henrik withdrew and looked up at him curiously.

"What's the matter, Nik? You look like you've drunk one of Kol's potions."

He frowned at him painfully, wanting to believe he was real, his words a mockery. He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as he raised them to cautiously rest them upon the child's shoulders, his breath wavering out as they fell on solid forms. It was a trick, yet his mind could not fathom it. The agony of his untimely and brutal passing overcame him once again. Tears sprang to his eyes and his lips trembled.

"Henrik…" He swallowed, afraid to break his brother's spirit even knowing he was nothing more than a figment of imagination. "You're not…"

Henrik waved him off and shrugged out of his hold, running back to the end of the hall, his fingertips gently running along the glass sliding door to the balcony. "Isn't this madness?" He laughed and looked back at Klaus with sparkling eyes, marveling, "I've never been any place with real floors. And glass windows!"

It was an even bigger blow to his chest, the guilt riding him like a storm. A prickling at the back of his neck alerted him to a presence and when he turned he found Tatia leaning against the doorway to his room with a smile more devilish than he was used to from her.

"He wouldn't have blamed you."

His eyes widened and he turned to look back at Henrik but the boy was gone, the faint echo of his laughter left to torment. Klaus' heart raced with fear and anguish to have lost him again.

"He knew it wasn't your intention to get him killed."

Without thinking, he growled and lunged for her but instead went tumbling through the doorway to the ground. He rose up on his palms, yellowed eyes scouring the room for her.

"Stop running and face me!" he threatened the air. He was answered with silence and so he clambered his way to his bed, pulling himself up onto his knees to lean over it as he tried to fight the chaos of emotion building inside.

"You feel at fault, Niklaus. And that is why Henrik came. And it's not the first time you've seen him when you felt you'd done wrong. Am I right?"

His head dropped to the mattress with a groan, fingers gripping the covers in frustration. "Go away," he begged.

"Why do you think it is that you only see us three? What do we all have in common? What did we all take away from you?"

He lifted his head slowly, his voice desperate, "Tatia, please I beg of you – "

"You were not loved. You cannot love. You do not deserve love."

"Stop it."

"You are incapable."

"No."

"Unworthy."

"Stop!"

"You will – never – be – enough."

He shouted out a wordless rage, grabbing the lamp from his nightstand and throwing it at the hallucination with all his might. It passed through her dissipating figure and crashed into the wall with force, breaking through the sheet rock and shattering the bulb. He stared at the broken pieces, following their path with widened eyes to where a set of pink slippers stood in the doorway.

Far from the wreckage of the Klaus' mental stability, three other inhabitants were convening. It had been a week since Operation crack Ryanne had begun and Rebekah was starting to feel the effects. She hadn't meant to take a liking to her new friend, or whatever they were, but somehow the girl had finagled her way into her heart. The more she got to know Ryanne, the more she suspected that the hybrid had nothing to do with what happened and what was happening. In turn, it made her more careful when she spoke with Elijah and Katherine.

"Should we be meeting like this with Nik nearby?" Rebekah was sitting on his bed, leaning back on her palms.

As if on cue, the crash from his bedroom alerted them. Elijah turned, listening in, as did the rest. Caroline's voice sounded almost immediately after.

"Sounds like he's about to be busy to me," Katherine said dully, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed.

"That didn't sound good," Elijah started for the door.

Katherine pressed a hand against his chest to stop him. "You really want to get caught in the middle of their melodrama?" He looked down at her hand. "Let them hash it out. Trust me."

Elijah glanced to Rebekah but she only shrugged. "Not that I'd give her the benefit otherwise, but she is right."

He sighed in defeat and nodded, shutting the door and closing them off for now. "Have you any updates on the status of your relationship with Ryanne?"

She blinked, affronted. "Who said anything about a relationship?"

Katherine smirked. "Someone's defensive."

"It was a turn of phrase, Rebekah."

"Well there's nothing new to report."

He frowned. "Nothing at all? You had to have spoken about something on all your visits."

"Unless they weren't talking at all," Katherine egged on.

"What happens when you go down there?"

"I bring her blood and we have a chat."

"You bring her blood?"

"I was being courteous. It's not like she's here on holiday."

"Surely you were able to veer the conversation in our favor."

"If I start carelessly urging the information out of her, don't you think she'd notice?"

He gave her a sardonic look. "I assumed you had more tact."

"Rebekah and tact?" Katherine snorted. "That's a laugh."

"At least I wouldn't offer up my brother's life in exchange for my own."

Katherine's eyes narrowed. "I was playing an angle. I wouldn't actually let her kill him."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Ladies," Elijah berated. "This is not about any of us. This is about Niklaus." Katherine rolled her eyes. "We have to work faster with Ryanne. I don't want to push you, Rebekah, but if there is any way to get her to tell us what she knows sooner - "

"She could just sleep with her," Katherine teased.

"That would be your tactic," Rebekah shot back.

"Don't try to be all high and holy on me, dollface. You know you've stooped just as low. Or maybe we should ask Stefan."

Rebekah stood at the ready. "You slimy little - "

"Enough!" Elijah huffed in frustration. "This bickering back and forth is getting us nowhere, and quite frankly I am tired of it. You are not children. If the two of you cannot coexist then I will be forced to exclude you from this process altogether and continue on my own. I will not ask you to put your differences aside again."

Rebekah and Katherine exchanged a contemptuous glance. Rebekah pursed her lips tightly and exhaled through her nose.

"Fine."

Katherine rolled her eyes with a tiny smirk then met Elijah's eyes with a sweet smile. "Yes, dear."

"Don't patronize me, Katerina. I have been patient enough with you."

"Sorry. I get irritable when I'm held prisoner."

He rolled his eyes again and looked back at Rebekah. "I understand this is a difficult role to be put in, but if we can hasten the process a bit – "

"You talk to her then. Since you're in such a rush."

"We can't change our strategy mid-play," Katherine said boredly.

"What strategy? She already knows I'm trying to pull information from her."

Elijah nodded. "And how would it look if we were to show up in your stead?"

"All that trust she's put into you goes right out the window," Katherine finished.

"Right now, she suspects nothing but a concerned sister trying to look out for her brother."

"Which I am."

Katherine shook her head. "No, you're a mole."

Rebekah blinked, wiping her hands across this air. "This is getting too bloody confusing. Couldn't we find something else to look into?"

"Why would we want to?"

"Because it's useless, not to mention unjust to ascribe all these preconceptions on someone when we don't know for sure if she's even involved." She stuck her nose up, almost hesitating before blurting. "And because I'm not doing it anymore."

"You're joking."

Elijah frowned. "Rebekah - "

"Would you do it to me, Elijah? Manipulate me, use me as a tool against someone I care for? I am not going to subject her to this cruelty when she has done nothing to harm us."

Elijah pursed his lips. "Perhaps we might be asking too much of the girl."

"Oh, no, no, no. Do not let all the progress we have made be for nothing because your sister caught the warm fuzzies for the she-wolf."

"Excuse you! I did what you asked. Can I help it if we were wrong?"

"We have come too far, worked too hard to throw it all away because of some schoolgirl crush. Hell, she's probably playing you right back!" Katherine laughed. "As soon as you let your guard down, she swooped right into your heart. Just like daddy told her to. She knows your weak spot."

Rebekah pressed her lips together. "And what if you're wrong? What if she's just an innocent bystander who had nothing to do with anything Lyall has done?"

Elijah's brows twitched in confusion. "It does seem too convenient," he agreed, sparing his sister an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Rebekah, but we cannot trust her."

Katherine leaned back as she examined her nails. "And that's why you never send a girl to do a woman's job."

Rebekah shot her a glare, turning her nose up. "If she's playing me, then why would she admit that someone is helping Lyall?"

Katherine let the chair snap back up. "What?"

Elijah stepped forward. "Who?"

"Her bond keeps her from saying who, but once it's broken she's willing to tell us what she knows."

"She's lying," Katherine deduced. "She's saying exactly what we want to hear."

"We don't know that, Katerina."

"Let me go talk to her and I'll find out myself."

"I already told you, it's too dangerous. She could expose you. All of us."

She balled her fists with a groan. "I am so tired of being treated like a child."

"You act the part superbly," Rebekah taunted.

Katherine dropped her fangs with a threatening hiss, eyes venous.

"Control yourself," he warned. She did, begrudgingly. "It will do no good to this operation if we turn on one another."

"Tell her, not me," Katherine pointed.

"I am telling both of you. Rebekah will resume her visits with Ryanne, with emphasis on uncovering whatever truths Lyall is hiding."

"Because that's worked so well already."

Elijah sighed. "If it comes to it, once her bond is broken, we will at least be able to compel any answers we may need from her." Katherine nodded half-heartedly and Rebekah glanced away. "For now, we have no choice but to wait."

"Klaus?"

Her voice was an echo and he had to shake his head to hear her past Tatia's lingering taunts. Slowly he pulled himself together and forced himself to put on a brave face. She looked worried when he finally saw her eyes, not that he could blame her. He pulled himself up to the nearest bed post, leaning against it for support. Caroline stepped into the room, eyes widening at the full extent of the mess he'd made, kicking aside the stray cord of the lamp.

"Whoa...what happened?" she asked in a quietly awed voice.

Klaus licked his lips, avoiding eye contact. "Tatia happened."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"I, um..." He exhaled shakily through his nose, looking anywhere but her face. "I hallucinated her."

His voice was still husky with despair. Caroline blinked rapidly, trying to evaluate the situation. "Just now?"

"Now. Before." He finally met her eyes, gripping the wooden pole, terrified. "More and more she appears."

She took a few steps toward him, careful not to step on the broken shards of lightbulb or ceramics. "How long as this been happening?"

He blinked once and his eyes narrowed, as if wondering if she were real. A movement behind her caught his attention and his face went pale.

"Klaus?" She saw him staring past her shoulder. She glanced out of the corner of her eye then slid her gaze back to him, whispering, "Is she here now?"

He looked down, jaw clenching a little as he stretched his mouth. He let out a shuddery breath and met her eyes once more. "Yes."

Caroline nodded once, taking another step. "What is she saying?"

"She's..." He licked his lip, shaking his head. He pouted, lips trembling, panting through his nose. "I'm not good enough for you."

"You are." She finally reached him and slid her hands to hold his face. "Just tell me what she's saying and we'll - "

"That is what she's saying, Caroline! What they have all been saying!" He squeezed his eyes shut and tore his face away, swiveling out of reach and sitting on his bed in defeat, gripping his head. "They won't stop," he said, his voice wavering. "Over and over, they keep taunting me with my own words." He turned around, pointing to his temple. "I can't think!"

She frowned deeply. "You're scaring me."

He continuously shook his head, stretching his jaw and then clenching it when she sat beside him and looking away from her. She looked down at his hand picked it up, giving it a squeeze so he would look at her.

"This is real," she told him, holding their hands together up so he could see. "I'm real. Okay?"

He searched her eyes for truth and she laid a hand upon his cheek. His eyes closed instantly and all of the tension drained from his body.

"I don't know if this is some kind of spell or something, but we'll figure it out. And we will beat it." She stroked his curls and he nodded. "We'll go and talk to your dad and make him tell us the truth."

"I wanted to tell you. I wasn't trying to keep this from you. It's like you said. Someone or something is amplifying my actions, my...my feelings."

She pursed her lips, curiously timid. "Feelings?"

He blinked, realizing his slip. He started to look away and then he realized, "She's gone."

Caroline frowned. "Tatia?"

He sighed in relief then looked back at her. "I want to show you something." He took her hand and got up, starting to pull her along.

"Wh – Klaus!" She laughed, resisting his pull. "Wait a minute. You were just freaked out and now you want to whisk me away?"

He took her hand and held it, covering it with his other hand. "You brought me back, Caroline."

She looked down at their hands and blinked a few times, smiling up at him unsurely. "Just like that?"

"You took my mind off it and she went away. I want to repay you."

"You don't have to repay me. Just...sit. We need to figure out what to do."

"And we will. But for now, I need you to come with me."

She didn't argue, and instead let him lead her out of the room and down the hall to a door she had often passed and wondered immensely about. When he had first given her the grand tour of the villa, he called the room behind it the "Dragon's Hoard", leaving its contents to her imagination. He withdrew a key from his pocket to unlock the door, hissing as he grabbed the knob. A little stream of steam fizzled in the air as he turned it. Vervain, she guessed. He really didn't want anyone in there.

When the door opened, motion sensor lights flickered and illuminated the room. She gasped softly at the vast accumulation of history. The room was set up like a sitting room with victorian era furnishings and chaises, shelves and tables all around, all lined with artifacts and antiques, relics they had collected over the centuries from all over the world. There were open cupboards of lavish dresses, and tuxedos and suits, a shelf filled with books that looked ancient, and slabs of slate etched with drawings that resembled hieroglyphics. Draperies and tapestries decorated the walls along with familiar landscapes and portraits that should have been in museums around the world. Trinkets lined the window ledges which were darkened by blinds, and there were sculptures spread throughout as if finishing touches of luxury.

Klaus ushered her further into the room so he could close and lock the door behind them, idly massaging the pain in his hand away as it healed, all the while watching her take everything in.

"Wow," she laughed in amazement.

"It's an assortment of items collected over the years," he told her.

"I can see that." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Exactly how many museums have filed reports of missing items?"

"Not all of them were stolen," he chastised. "Some were left behind by...guests."

"Mmhm. And did these guests happen to remember leaving them?"

Klaus smirked. "Let's just say they may have overstayed their welcome." Caroline laughed, shaking her head. "Feel free to look around," he gestured.

She quirked a brow and looked around hesitantly before she began to walk. She moved with a slow caution, wanting to take in every detail of every item and not mar their existence by jostling them. She stopped at a small group of porcelain dolls sitting atop a dresser and smiled. They each donned a different style dress and hairdo. Some were painted with rouge and some were milky white. There was an Asian one dressed like a Geisha; a Russian one with a fur headpiece and intricately detailed dress; a Dutch with blonde ringlets braided on each side, pointed shoes and a dress with windmills; a Spanish princess with tiara and red ruffles, her features and complexion darker than her brethren. Some had large round faces, others were smaller and more realistic. They all wore jewelry that grown women around the world would envy.

"Those are Rebekah's." He strained his neck a little, antsy as she reached to touch the hand of one. "Take care with handling them. She'd easily have your head if they break."

She took her hand back and spared once last wistful glance before moving along. The bookshelves were lined with literature and she noticed scrolls rolled up in between the crevices, wondering from which era they belonged. There were parchments with barely legible scribbles on the glass table to her left and stack of hat boxes on the floor beside it. An open wardrobe on her right revealed gowns that looked like they were something out of history books and period dramas. She longed to touch them all, let her fingers run along the beading and threading, see if any of them could possibly fit her, but decided to hold off and spare Klaus the tedium. She continued along her path and eyed a small treasure chest sitting in the corner with curiosity.

"What's in there?"

He smiled calmly, masking his nerves. "I'll show you."

He walked over and knelt down to pick it up and lift it up onto the table. He lifted the braided leather necklace from around his neck, revealing a tiny bronze key at the end. Her brows creased in endearment as she watched him unlock the chest, waiting to see what treasures awaited. He hesitated, holding the lid up an inch and glancing over his shoulder at her before lifting it all the way and moving so she could stand beside him and peek inside.

She expected rubies or diamonds, a mass of gold coins, but what resided was far from the pirate treasure of her imagination. Instead it was a chest of fairly mundane items, lightly weathered from years of being kept in the dark. There were tiny bottles filled with musty liquids, miniature wood carved statuettes with barely any scarring, stones with markings carved into them, and scrap pieces of muslin with random splotches of faded color on them. There was even a tiny doll with only a few scraggly hairs and what looked like decayed bamboo wrapped around its middle. He picked up a tiny wooden horse from the box, holding it gingerly, his fingertip grazing its mane.

"I fashioned this after my own horse," he said softly.

She looked up, stunned not only by his words but his expression. "You made these?"

"When I was human, yes. Some are...better than others." He set the horse back in place and picked up a wooden knight, holding it toward the light and turning it to examine its details.

She looked back at the chest and its contents. "These are from your human life."

"What little we managed to keep. The bottles belonged to Kol. He liked to concoct his own potions by infusing remnants of mother's brews." He picked up one of the stones with a wry smile. "Elijah notoriously collected these. He once tricked an entire village into thinking they were hexed by carving made up runes into them and leaving them on the ledges of all their windows."

She laughed in disbelief. "Elijah did that?"

He nodded and laid it back in the box and pulled out a piece of leather in the shape of a pocket. "Finn kept this on him at all times. Mother would give him certain herbs to keep inside it to ward off predators." He scrunched his nose when he looked at her. "He was a poor marksman." She grinned and he traded the pouch for one of the fabrics now, his hand shaking as he looked down at the seemingly careless smear of clay paint on the old stitching. "These were Henrik's." His voice was thicker, emotional even. He traced the curves of the clay gingerly and she watched his throat jump as he swallowed. Then, strangely, he smiled. "He had no concept of symmetry at all. I had begun teaching him just before..."

She looked down and a long silence befell them, but it wasn't the quiet that bothered her. "Klaus, why are we here?"

He drew in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. "The one thing you've been trying to do since we met is get me to share my past with you. Let you in on the things that shaped me, made me who I am." He looked around. "There are things here that might explain me better than I could explain myself." He nodded to the chest as he gently laid Henrik's art back in the box. "These are the things we salvaged from our human lives. The rest are things we collected, for one reason or another. Whether for their beauty or their meaning, or even their memory." He licked his lips, nervous. "Pick whatever you like. I'll tell you why it's here."

She peered at him, her logical mind thinking past the relief flooding her heart. "Why now? Why after all this time are you deciding to let me in?"

"I just..." He searched the room for an answer before earnestly meeting her eyes again. "I wanted you to believe in me again."

"And you thought bringing me here would do that," she made it a question.

"No." She lifted her chin in surprise. "On the contrary, I had expected you would find it patronizing to give you what you wanted as a means of acquittal. Which is why this is more of a peace offering. I don't expect you to forgive me right away." She pressed her lips thin, tilting her head and giving him a skeptical once over. "No more secrets." His eyes were wide and trained on hers, emphasizing his point.

She took a slow, preemptive breath, looking around the room nervously. He was preparing for the worst when her eyes narrowed and zeroed in on him with gross curiosity.

"Why does she collect the dolls?"

Klaus' brows shot up. He opened his mouth slowly, jaw slack as he momentarily regained his senses. "I always believed it had something to do with her yearning for a human life," he answered plainly. "The dolls represented a happier childhood she was robbed of. Children she would never have." He rolled his eyes. "She'll tell you she just collects them out of luxury."

Caroline hummed then pointed to the curio cabinet laden with jewels. "And those?"

His eyes averted guiltily. "Amassed over the centuries from a variety of royal accompaniment. There was one such duchess who fancied my company. Her daughters, on the other hand, were particularly taken with Kol. One night we were ravenous and he persuaded me to join him on a hunt. I won't tell you the number of lives we fed on that night, but our evening ended in the bed chambers of the Duchess' daughters. When she discovered us feeding on the corpses of her children, she began to scream. Kol snapped her neck to silence her."

"Oh my god."

"It was Elijah's idea to make it look like they'd been set upon by savages. We took what we could and ran." He glanced to the curio cabinet with a shameful diffidence. "Not my proudest moment." Caroline looked down at the bracelet on her wrist, holding it with concern. Klaus caught the gesture and his brow twitched. "The story behind that one is a happier tale, I assure you."

She looked up. "You said it belonged to a princess."

"It did. A Grecian princess, named Sophia Charitena. We were quite fond of one another."

"What happened to her?"

"Nothing of consequence." He tilted his head, half nodding. "She was being forced into an arranged marriage and was looking for a way to escape. I helped her leave and in return she offered me a selection of her crowned jewels as repayment."

Her nose scrunched in distaste. "Arranged marriages always kinda skeeved me."

He smiled. "It wasn't so much the idea of an arrangement as it was the idea of being married to a man."

Her brows shot up and they both laughed. "Well then, that is definitely a good reason to run away," she agreed.

There were so many unimaginable stories about his past, a lot of them about his siblings. They spent the better half of the evening talking about his history, exploring the contents of the room with laughter and with wistful sighs. Sometimes there was a long silence as she simply examined things. Eventually, they were back where they began, sitting sideways on one of the gilded sofas with the little chest of Mikaelson keepsakes between them. She was holding the horse between her fingers, fascinated by the intricate details of its face.

"How old were you when you carved this?"

"I might have been eight or nine years old. I hadn't been strong enough to ride him so I created a miniature version to carry around with me." He smiled, nostalgia creeping up. "I spent every waking moment with that horse that I could. Feeding him, grooming him, basically anything and everything I could until father would let me ride him." He looked down at the carving. "I remember the first time being up on his back, I couldn't get him to move. Elijah and Kol couldn't stop laughing," he said, laughing himself. Caroline giggled too. "But eventually he understood."

She smiled as their laughs faded into soft breaths. "Thank you. For showing me this, and for making a real effort. I appreciate it." She could see the lingering doubt in his eyes so she added a reassuring, "I really do."

"I know it's not enough," he said quietly.

She sighed. "There is no quick fix for this. It's going to take time. Like, a lot of time." He nodded obligingly and she tucked her hair behind her ear. "For now we can just...take it slow."

"However long it takes," he repeated with a ghost of a smile. She smiled too and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was something, but just barely.

"Hello?"

Caroline lifted her head, turning it towards the door with a frown. Klaus immediately froze.

"You heard that too?"

"Anyone home?"

She gasped in excitement and, without answering him, sped down to the foyer stopping abruptly at the foot of the stairs.

Bonnie's shoulders slumped in relief. "You have no idea how much I've missed you."