The Wolf

by yokan87

When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined. [It's The Originals Season 1, but Caroline is a witch and she's pregnant with Klaus' child.]

19. S01E19: A Closer Walk With Thee

A/N: First of all, happy 2020 to you all! So The Wolf actually won a KC Award! Best Canon-ish Multi-Chapter. Thank you very much to everyone who took their precious time to vote for this story. :) You guys rock and I am so, so happy!

This chapter had coveredinthecolors's amazing beta work, as well as her usual rants about Elijah, all of which I missed very much.

We're not far from the end now! Just two more chapters, you guys! I seriously cannot believe I made it this far. As always, thank you very much to all of you who have been reading and reviewing this. You've really made me want to push myself further with this fic. Your comments are much appreciated! Do not hesitate to drop me a note and tell me how you feel about this chapter. :) Not gonna lie, it totally makes me excited about updating faster.

There are some important notes at the bottom. Please, don't skip those once you're done with this chapter. Hope you enjoy it! :)

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Caroline will never understand the concept behind throwing a party when someone dies.

If it happens to her, she'll be royally pissed off, and, as a witch, she has actual ways of coming back to exact revenge, so they better not try.

It just feels wrong to have music and dancing and drinking when you lose someone you love. Especially someone as young as Father Kieran. He was fine and then, all of sudden, fell hopelessly ill. In a matter of days, he was dead. Officially, according to his obituary, he had a massive stroke, but it all happened very conveniently after that woman, Francesca Correa, approached Elijah about taking Kieran's seat on their war council as the head of the human faction. People should be pissed off and murderous and raging on God for taking one of his own so soon, not celebrating.

That is certainly how Caroline feels. She wasn't even close to Kieran, but nothing about this story sits right with her.

She hasn't stopped investigating Francesca since the Bayou bombs. She's the gangster whose family owns the Palace Royale Casino, the place where the bomber guy left a gigantic gambling debt that magically disappeared after he killed himself, taking Eve along with him. Anyone who knows anything about how these places operate knows debts, especially a sum like the one the guy owed, don't just go away, not even after death. They have assurances and ways to collect. Violent ways. Gangsters don't get stinking rich by pardoning debtors.

When you add Father Kieran's sudden passing to that... Suspicious doesn't even begin to cover it. Francesca Correa is either incredibly lucky, or incredibly guilty.

To say Caroline already doesn't like the woman is an euphemism, and they haven't even officially met yet.

She visited Father Kieran at the hospital a couple of times to offer Cami some support. Her friend was understandably devastated. Kieran was her last living relative, took her and her twin brother in after their parents passed away. After high school, her brother, Sean, stayed in New Orleans, determined to follow his uncle's footsteps and become a priest, while Cami moved to Florida to continue her studies. Then her brother died in a freaky accident, and that was when she decided to move back home, to be closer to the only family she still had left.

"I'm all alone now," Cami said in a brittle voice and with tears in her eyes as she sat by her uncle's bed. Kieran had been connected to tubes and machines for days, and the doctors said there were no signs of improvement.

Caroline gave her a tight hug. "No, you're not. You'll never be alone."

Because Cami's not a fan of Klaus, Caroline thought it was best if they didn't go together, but she asked him to stop by and use his blood. He warned her that there are things not even vampire blood can heal — natural diseases that take such intricate and profound roots into a person's system that not even magic can undo the damage. It works like the worst kind of hexes. Things such as cancer, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's... And massive strokes. So unlucky that the disease to strike a perfectly healthy Kieran was exactly one of those very rare, very few things that vampire blood can't fix... Klaus tried it, anyway. And as he predicted, it didn't work. Kieran remained exactly as he was, totally unresponsive and hanging by a thread.

Caroline knew, as Klaus did, that it was only a matter of time.

Last night, she finally got the dreaded message from Cami informing of her uncle's passing. In respect to his wishes, they'd be giving him a half-Irish, half jazz funeral. There would be a mass this morning at St. Anne's church, followed by a celebration of Kieran's life to be held at Rousseau's, where everyone would proceed to get shit-faced drunk. Tomorrow they'll have a procession through the streets of the French Quarter, starting at St. Anne's, all the way to Lafayette cemetery, accompanied by a brass band, as is the city's custom.

Caroline texted her friend back to say how sorry she was and ask if she needed anything. She didn't care that it was way past midnight, she'd be there in a minute. Cami politely declined. "It's all bureaucracy right now and I think I need a minute. But thank you. See you tomorrow?"

Caroline felt sick, her heart heavy with grief. She didn't know Kieran all that well, only ran into him a few times, but he seemed like a nice man, genuinely concerned with his community's well-being, interested in helping whichever way he could, not differentiating between factions. He helped Marcel rescuing Davina from the Harvest ritual, he took in the werewolves during the storm, he helped Klaus find Agnes after she used that cursed needle to try and kill the baby. Kieran was a man who took his vows and his job seriously. First and foremost, he wanted to do good.

Like Eve.

Caroline hasn't even recovered from burying one friend and already she'll be attending another funeral. Good people are dropping like flies around New Orleans. This city has a way of being especially cruel to those who dare to defy its crooked ways and remain honest and pure in the face of darkness.

She tried to go back to sleep, even made herself a chamomile tea, but she was too restless, too indignant. So she put on a robe and padded barefoot across the hall, to Klaus' room. He's taken to sleeping with his door open, said it was so he could hear if anyone tried to break in. She doubts that's really why; he could hear a needle dropping on the other side of the courtyard with his sharp hybrid ears, and he probably hasn't been sleeping at all. Ever since the bombs, nights have been long and strenuous for everyone. Knowing that, Caroline tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb him in case he'd managed to get some well-deserved shut-eye.

The room was dark, but she could see he was in bed, under his sheets, lying on his stomach, apparently asleep. She watched him for a moment and was about to go back to her room when she heard his voice. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry," she said, stopping by the threshold. "Did I wake you?"

Klaus sat up in bed, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "I wasn't sleeping," he said, but his hoarse voice told a different story.

She was quiet for a moment, considering. "Kieran's dead."

His face remained impassive, but Caroline could see the subtle change in his eyes, the way he cast them down, a shadow crossing his face. Klaus doesn't like many people, but he appreciated the priest. He once described him as trustworthy. That's not something he speaks lightly. There are times when he won't trust his own brother.

"Is Camille all right?" he asked after a moment.

"No," she replied simply.

"Do you want to go to her?" he correctly anticipated the first thing to cross Caroline's mind. But his tone suggested he'd be willing to accompany her, rather than tell her not to go, which was probably a first.

"She doesn't want me to," she replied. "I asked." There was another moment's pause, both of them lost in thoughts. "Anyway. I just thought you'd like to know."

"Caroline," Klaus called softly when she made to leave. "Are you all right?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I didn't really know him. I just think it's unfair that good people keep getting caught up in this city's web of disaster and dying stupid deaths. He was a good guy."

"He was."

"Like Eve."

"Yes."

"I guess I'm angry."

"Do you want to stay here?"

Caroline blinked at him, a little surprised by his offer, but she recovered fast. Without saying anything, she walked over to the bed, took off her robe and climbed in next to him, slipping under the covers and lying on her side. For a moment, Caroline gave herself a respite from all the anger boiling on the inside by just watching him as he lay on his back, absently staring at the ceiling. His handsome profile, the light frown between his eyebrows, the shape of his nose, the strain on the corner of his lips. A few weeks ago, she couldn't imagine ever being this close to Klaus again, this comfortable around him. Now there she was, crawling into his bed in the middle of the night as though that was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt so.

Just like after the bombs, she found a measure of solace in being close to him, knowing that he was still there. The one spot of stillness in a world made of uncertainty. Everyone hurts, bleeds and dies, but Klaus never will. He's indestructible.

"The funeral's tomorrow," she whispered. "At the church. Then there's a party or something at Rousseau's."

Klaus smiled wanly. "An Irish funeral for Father O'Connell."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For Kieran. I know you liked him."

Klaus' expression hardened, the line of his lips became sharper, but he didn't say anything. Caroline reached out for his hand, and he held hers back, firmly. She fell asleep with his thumb making soothing circles on her skin.

When she woke up this morning, he was gone.

Not just from the bed, but from the house altogether. Nobody saw him leave, not even Elijah.

"Did you have a fight last night?" he asked casually during breakfast.

"No. It was fine. I just... Told him about Kieran."

"He probably wanted to pay his respects while the church is still empty," Elijah offered. "Niklaus isn't fond of public shows of affection of any kind."

It made sense. Caroline wouldn't be mad at him about it, of course. Klaus is entitled to his own grief and if Father Kieran was more of a friend to him than any of them realized, then he's allowed to mourn in peace, whichever way he wants.

She got ready and went to church with Elijah for the service. It was packed by the time they arrived, and about to start, so Caroline didn't even get a chance to speak to Cami. Her eulogy was lovely and very touching, got half the church sobbing. Caroline could suddenly understand the desperate need to get shit-faced.

As soon as the service was over, everyone was out the door, heading straight to Rousseau's to drown out their heartache in pints of Guinness and tequila shots. Cami disappeared from sight, perhaps the one most in need of some liquid comfort. Klaus never showed. "Did you see him?" Caroline asked Elijah, but he simply shook his head.

While Elijah went to Rousseau's, she returned to the compound, thinking maybe she'd find Klaus there. It wasn't not like him to disappear like this, and she was frankly starting to get a little concerned he'd slipped right into one of his destructive moods. But he was not home either. With her anxiety piquing, Caroline made herself a generous peanut butter sandwich before heading to Rousseau's to meet Elijah. Since she wouldn't be able to drink, she might as well satiate her cravings with food.

As the church before, the bar is jammed, lots of familiar faces mingling with others she's never seen before. She recognizes a few vampires and some humans with supernatural connections who'd been at the Feast of the Blessings and at Elijah's party. Unlike at the church, however, the mood couldn't be more energetic and cheerful. If a random person were to walk in, they'd think the local team just won the Superbowl. It's almost overwhelming, and Caroline is a little taken aback as she walks in. Elijah explained to her what an Irish funeral entailed, but she did not expect this. She's not gonna teach a priest how to make his own funeral, but if people are this happy when she dies, they're gonna have to answer to her fury from beyond the veil. Especially if her death is as suspicious and untimely as Kieran's.

As she searches the crowd for Elijah, she catches a scene unfolding at the back of the bar. Francesca Correa speaking to Cami, and not in a friendly manner. The woman has Cami cornered, her posture way too aggressive for someone who should be respectful of another person's grief. Cami has her arms crossed defensively across her chest, the expression on her face making it clear she does not at all appreciate whatever it is the other woman is saying.

Caroline is about to stalk over to them when Francesca turns on her heels and marches out. Before she can go over to check on her friend, Cami disappears through a door on the back, slamming it behind her as she goes.

Something is definitely not right here.

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One day, perhaps, science will be able to explain the fine intricacies of Niklaus' mood swings like it explains the tides or the phases of the moon. Until then, however, he'll remain a sore pain in the ass of any poor soul who dares to share his company for extended periods of time.

Ever since Caroline returned to the compound, he had been at his absolute best behavior. His temper didn't rear its ugly head once. Elijah even allowed himself to imagine, for just the briefest of moments, that his brother had, perhaps, finally learned an invaluable lesson about making concessions in the name of peaceful coexistence. He was listening more, barking less, respecting people's spaces and wishes. He even inquired Elijah once on news of Rebekah. It was the first time he mentioned her name without a coat of contempt since their sister took off from New Orleans. It really did feel like things were looking up; if not in general terms, at least in a more personal note for their family.

And then this morning he apparently woke up ready to start shooting nuclear warheads at everyone once more.

Niklaus eludes any reason.

Yes, he was moderately fond of the priest, but not enough to be in such a foul mood, especially when they'd known for days that it was only a matter of time. Caroline said they didn't have any quarrels and, if Elijah is not imagining things, she spent the night in his bedroom.

Try as he might, Elijah cannot understand why he finds his brother pitifully drunk and sporting a pout at Rousseau's. The place is packed, but no one even dares to come close to him. While everyone celebrates Kieran's life by sharing stories and singing songs in his honor, Niklaus sends strong keep off the grass signs, a lonesome figure with a deep scowl and dark clouds hovering above his head.

Elijah asks for a glass and sits by his side, offering a toast to Kieran. Klaus half-heartedly lifts his own glass off the table and knocks back the rest of his drink before pouring another generous dose from the bottle he'd already swept away from the bar.

"Is there a reason for this or is it just that time of the month again?"

Klaus glares at him, chugging back his drink instead of offering an answer.

"I knew you were fond of Father Kieran, I didn't know you cared that much."

"Seems rather uncivilized to laugh and dance around the body of a loved one," Klaus grumbles.

"Yes. It is far better to practice your process of grief: denial, rage and hoarding coffins in basements," Elijah retorts, punctuating his sentence with a slanted grin.

Just then, Caroline finds them, sliding into the seat right across from Klaus. As soon as she takes in his state, she makes a face, brows slashing together in obvious confusion.

"I will warn you, Caroline. Niklaus is in a spectacularly foul mood today."

"Sod off," he grunts into his glass.

"So I guess this is not a good time to talk about Francesca Correa?"

"What about her?" Elijah asks.

"For starters, I don't like her. I just saw her talking to Cami, and Cami looked very upset."

"Her uncle just died."

"It didn't seem like that was the reason. Francesca was badgering her. Who does that to a person who just lost her only living relative?"

"You'll do well to stay away from that for now," Klaus chimes in.

"Wow," Caroline says flatly. "I just had the weirdest deja-vu. It's almost like we've had this conversation about a million times before and you already know what my answer will be."

Elijah grins, quietly sipping from his glass. "I warned you."

Klaus puts his empty glass down with a thud. "The moonlight rings are in progress, I will live up to my word. We will find and punish whoever launched the attack on the Bayou. In the meantime, I beseech you, Caroline, to stay away from Francesca Correa or anyone else who might pose a threat to you or our family, for your own safety."

Caroline frowns, leaning over towards Elijah. "Did he just use the word beseech?"

"I believe he did."

"Should we be worried?" she teases.

"Mock me all you want," he grumbles on, even more incensed than before. "But right now, all I will do is finish this bottle and the next in the hopes of drowning the demon that has chosen today to haunt me." He pours himself another shot and lifts his glass haphazardly in the air. "Cheers, Mikael! Impeccable Freudian timing."

"Mikael?" Caroline's forehead creases.

All the lighthearted banter dies in an instant. Elijah turns to his brother, peering through his drunkenness. "Elaborate," he demands. Niklaus purses his lips, his face betraying a million different emotions, none of which are good. This can't just be a coincidence... That he would bring up Mikael exactly when Elijah... "Niklaus... Have you dreamt of our father?"

"Go ahead," he mutters, looking down at his glass. "Have a good laugh."

"I can assure you there isn't a piece of this that I find even remotely amusing. Especially considering I've been dreaming of him, too."

Klaus' eyes snap up at him, wide in shock. "What?"

"If you are also seeing him..." Elijah's eyes catch Genevieve just as the witch approaches the bar, staring directly at their table and waving with that cynical grin dancing on her lips. "Perhaps our elusive, unknown enemy is orchestrating a further attack."

"Ugh," Caroline grunts. "Excuse me while I go barf." She gets up and stomps out of the pub.

Niklaus lets out a heavy sigh next to him. "What do you think that means?"

Elijah keeps his gaze trained on the witch. "I think it means we need to pay your friend a visit."

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The visit to the Lycée proves fruitless.

Elijah couldn't obviously allow Niklaus to go on his own. His brother has the terrible habit of trying to take advantage of whatever weakness he spots in an adversary, and in Genevieve's case, that is very clearly himself. But he didn't even need to interfere. Klaus treated her with the same cold detachment he'd treat anyone he doesn't trust — like an enemy.

However, not even Niklaus' less than subtle threats were enough to extract anything from her. Genevieve denied having anything to do with the dreams or knowing what they were about.

"Do you believe her?" he asked his brother as they left.

"Not in the least."

So they're back to square one, having to figure out what the hidden meaning behind these dreams is. Nothing will convince Elijah that this is just an unfortunate coincidence. Perhaps he should call Rebekah and see if she's been plagued by the same nightmares.

"Back already from your double date with Klaus' girlfriend?"

Elijah turns away from the window to see that Caroline's joined him in the study room. She's smiling, but the sour lilt in her voice was undisguisable.

"Caroline," he admonishes.

"Yes, I'm bitter. Sue me," she snaps, dropping the pretense at last.

Elijah decides to ignore the obvious hard feelings she rightfully harbors towards Niklaus' past involvements with the witch and leave it for them to settle in whatever terms they see fit. Preferably not by breaking up again. "She denied everything," he says.

"And for once, she's not lying." He frowns at her. "I called Bonnie."

"Bonnie Bennett? Why would she know anything?"

"She was the anchor to the Other Side. I figured — if you're both dreaming of your dead father, it could be related."

"The anchor to the Other Side?"

Caroline rolls her eyes. "It's a long story, I'll explain it some other time. The thing is, I was right. The Other Side is collapsing. Imploding, was the word she used."

"What do you mean, imploding?"

"There's a purgatory that holds all supernatural souls once we die, right? The whole fabric of that is disappearing, and it's taking the souls of the dead with it."

"In other words, all supernatural beings are being torn away into nothingness," Niklaus cuts in, joining them with a hopeful grin on his face.

Caroline blinks suspiciously at his sudden bout of good mood. "Yeah, basically," she drawls. "And some of them are not interested in going quietly."

"So you're saying that our father, faced with permanent extinction, has decided to spend his remaining time tormenting us," Elijah muses. "How delightful."

"The good news is, it probably won't last for long," Caroline offers.

Niklaus claps his hands together, a dimpled smile breaking onto his face. The sad drunkard of this morning is nowhere to be seen. "So we'll be rid of his abhorrent soul forever," he says cheerfully. "And what a good riddance that will be."

"Wow. Your mood has gone from zero to one hundred in a blink," Caroline says, eyeing him strangely.

"That's what fantastic news will do to you, love."

"I sure hope the news is all this is about," she says, whirling around and walking away.

Elijah almost laughs at the baffled look on his brother's face.

"What did I do?" he asks.

Never in his brother's life has he ever been in a serious relationship with anyone. He understands jealousy very well, of course, but only from his own perspective, which tends to be more dramatic and less nuanced than that of a normal person. Elijah looks forward to watching him squirm as he attempts to navigate these waters after one thousand years of not being held accountable for anything. If it doesn't end badly, it'll be most definitely entertaining.

Elijah arches his eyebrows at him, shrugging. "I have no idea."

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When Caroline leaves the compound for a walk, she has Cami on her mind.

The day turned out to be busier than she expected and she never had a chance to give her friend a proper hug. She decides to stop by a restaurant she knows and grab some comfort food to offer as a makeshift sympathy casserole. Apparently that's the one thing people have failed to provide today. Handshakes, thoughts and prayers are much more effective on a full stomach, and grieving people hardly ever remember to eat. Sympathy casseroles helped Caroline through processing a very complex set of feelings after burying her father. When she could barely bother to leave her room, finding her fridge filled with things she could just stick her fork into and chew on was life-saving.

She's thinking of gumbo and maybe some beignets from that café Cami took her months ago, her mind blank of any directions, when she realizes she's headed into a completely different part of the French Quarter. More residential, less touristy. Even though she's never been to this part of the city before, the place is instantly familiar to her, having spent days looking at all the old mansions lining up both sides of the street on Google Earth.

Francesca Correa's lavish home exudes money. Her dealings at the casino are definitely profitable. She's a degenerate crook, but then again so is almost everyone else in this city. Caroline lives with the oldest murderers still walking this earth, and they also have a thing for extravagant housing, so she's not easily impressed by these things. If all Francesca did was make easy money by feeding a bunch of idiots' addictions, Caroline would have problems with her only on principle. She wouldn't even make it to her list of concerns. The real problem is that Francesca is suddenly all over the place, leaving her imprint on things she has no business with. First the bomb in the Bayou, now Father Kieran. Then Cami.

Caroline can't see the connection, or why she'd have any interest in doing these things. Why would humans try to get in the middle of a war they can't fight? Why would she want to attract that kind of attention to herself? Just to get threatened and squashed? Or is there something they're not seeing?

She's been obsessing over this for so long that her legs unwittingly bring her to the woman's doorstop. She did not plan at all on coming all the way here, doesn't even know exactly what to do, but since she's already here anyway, Caroline decides not to make the trip a waste of her time. Perhaps if she hadn't seen the way Francesca spoke to Cami earlier she wouldn't feel like confronting the woman, but that got Caroline's hackles up all over again.

She takes a look around the house, trying to see through the windows. Even though some of the lights on the first floor are on, the place seems to be empty. The garage is empty, so Francesca is probably still out. Caroline takes a seat on the front steps and makes herself comfortable.

The wait is not long, though. Just a few minutes later, the conspicuous black SUV Caroline's seen the Correa family driving up and down the French Quarter appears around the corner. Francesca's brothers are not with her, but she's not alone; her bodyguard is right behind as she walks to the front door.

The woman startles when she sees Caroline, but the surprise is quickly wiped off her face, replaced by a schooled nonchalance. "Ah," she says. "Caroline, isn't it? I'm guessing you're not here because you want to make a new friend."

"I don't really count terrorists as friends."

Francesca snorts derisively. "I've been accused of everything, from grand larceny to blackmail. But terrorism? That's new."

Caroline stands to her feet, crossing her arms across her chest. Francesca's little theatrics pretending to be insulted is kind of annoying; she's a terrible actress. You'd expect more from a mafia boss. "A human pulled up where I was living in the Bayou on a motorcycle and blew himself up," she says in a crisp tone, cutting straight to the point and pinning the woman under a hard look.

"I heard. Awful," Francesca replies flatly, putting her hand out for the bodyguard to give her her keys. "Good night."

She brushes by Caroline and unlocks her door. When Caroline makes to follow, the bodyguard grabs her arms, pulling her back. It's all she needed to snap. Caroline knees the man between the legs and then smashes his head against a flower vase, dropping his unconscious body to the ground. She then turns back to Francesca and, with a flick of her wrist, commands the door shut.

Francesca turns to her wide-eyed, visibly more alert now. Caroline grins; she knows the look on the woman's face only too well. People see a young blonde pregnant woman and immediately dismiss her as harmless. "Yes. I'm multi-talented," she says. It's exhausting to always be underestimated, having to put on shows of strength just to be taken seriously, but the shock across their faces once they realize Witch Barbie is a thorn on their side to be reckoned with is kind of priceless. "Word on the street is that he owed 100 grand to the Palace Royale Casino. And then, after he died, the debt was erased. Just like magic."

"Jeff was a fixture at my roulette table," Francesca tells her, finally betraying some irritation. "Sometimes he was up, sometimes he was down. I absolved his family of the debt he owed out of the goodness of my heart." Caroline cocks her an unimpressed eyebrow. "Feel free to sniff around," Francesca gesticulates dismissively towards her own house. "You'll find nothing. My hands are clean. But I advise you to mind your manners. It's lucky you're still alive. You're the one the wolves all whisper about, with your royalty baby. If I was interested in hurting the wolves, you'd be my target."

Caroline narrows her eyes dangerously at her. "Is that a threat?"

"Not at all. It's a fair warning. Perhaps you shouldn't be walking around on your own at night, if you don't know who attacked the wolves and why. It wasn't me though." A vicious smirk creeps onto Francesca's lips, her eyes glinting with malice. "When I go after someone, I don't miss."

Caroline feels as a jolt of anger shoots across her body, her blood reaching boiling point as Francesca whirls around and goes into her house. She takes a steadying breath, willing herself to relax, or else she might end up setting fire to the house and starting a whole new incident.

She's more certain than ever that this woman isn't just your ordinary sketchy mobster. Everything about her rubs Caroline the wrong way. She has an angle. Caroline just needs to figure out what is it that she's after.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, she turns around and goes back to the street. As she starts walking, she feels a chill up her spine, like it got considerably colder all of a sudden. She has the burning sensation of being watched, but the street is completely empty. Caroline looks back to the house, searching the windows, but if Francesca is there, she's hiding well.

If she were more like Klaus, she'd let her temper flare and give Francesca a real piece of her mind. But it may be too early for that. Without proof, she'd just be adding gas to an already explosive mix. As much as she'd like to watch Francesca burn, the little voice of reason in her head tells her it's not a smart move, not when the werewolves just got attacked and Father Kieran just died, proving yet again how vulnerable everyone is.

Wrapping her cardigan more tightly around herself, Caroline decides to let it go. For now, anyway.

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The unsavory encounter with Francesca Correa leaves Caroline spitting fire and almost causes her to make a beeline home instead of visiting Camille, but she changes her mind once she passes by the restaurant she'd intended on ordering takeout from. And when she finally makes it to Cami's, she's very glad she didn't drop the idea altogether. One look at her friend and Caroline knows how desperately Cami was in need of a shoulder to cry on and a pair of hands to offer her the warm comfort food she does not have the required motivation to prepare herself.

"I hadn't eaten since last night," she confesses while Caroline takes over her kitchen to serve her a plate. "I'd forgotten what this was like. When Sean died, uncle Kieran was the one answering all the phone calls and thanking people for their thoughts and prayers. I didn't want to speak to anyone. Now, I don't have a choice. People I've never seen stopped by to talk to me at the church and my phone hasn't stopped chirping all day. I've just turned on the autopilot. Don't even think anymore, just say thank you and hang up. I'm pretty sure I've hung up on some people while they were still talking. I just want today to be over."

"I can go, if you want."

"Oh, please!" Cami protests around a mouthful. "The entire population of the French Quarter has given me their condolences, but no one's brought me sympathy gumbo. You have no idea how much you've improved my day already. I was probably gonna go to bed on an empty stomach. No, actually, I would've done worse. I would've gone through an entire bottle of wine before that, which means a hangover from hell tomorrow. And I still have to bury my uncle, so. Please. Stay."

And Caroline does. She lets the companionable silence spool out between them while Camille eats, clearly enjoying her meal. She thought she'd be starving herself by the time she got here, even asked for an extra large portion so the two of them could eat and Cami could still have some leftovers for tomorrow. But as soon as she opened the bag and smelled the deliciously hot food, Caroline's stomach rolled with a sudden wave of nausea. First that weird chill and now this. Perfect time to come down sick.

She tries her best not to think about the most unpleasant parts of her day, but it's kind of impossible. Her mind is still throbbing from that little chat with Francesca, reeling back to that not-so-veiled threat. To the way she was talking to Camille at Rousseau's, bullying someone obviously grieving... It makes Caroline bristle. Hexes are evil, nasty things and Caroline's never hexed anyone in her entire life, but for the first time she actually felt the pull, her magic trembling inside of her, itching in the hollows of her hand, begging to put a curse on that vile woman.

When I go after someone, I don't miss. A mere mortal would never threaten a witch this way, especially not one currently living with two of the most powerful creatures to ever walk this earth. If Caroline tells Klaus about their encounter, he'll be on her front door to snap her neck before breakfast. Francesca's met Klaus. And Elijah. She knows how fiercely protective they are, and, more importantly, how unapologetically prone to violence. So she either has a death wish, or she's got something big under her sleeve to back her up. The attitude tonight tells Caroline it's probably the latter.

"Cami," Caroline starts after a while, a thoughtful crease between her eyebrows. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I saw Francesca Correa talking to you at the bar today."

Cami lets out a displeased grunt, rolling her eyes. Her mild expression immediately morphs into one of hostility. "Don't even get me started on that woman."

"What did she want? I take it she wasn't paying her respects."

Cami snorts derisively. "Definitely not. She wanted to know about a key."

"A key?"

"Apparently the head of the human faction is in charge of keeping some key safely away from supernatural hands. She claimed, since she has been conveniently chosen to take my uncle's chair, that the key now belongs to her, even though it's apparently been in my family for ages."

"And what key is that?" Cami puts a hand down the front of her dress and pulls out a long chain with a key dangling from it. Caroline's eyes widen in shock. "You have it?"

"She doesn't know that."

"You told her you didn't have it and she bought it?"

"Well, I didn't know what she was talking about then, so it wasn't a lie. My uncle never told me anything about any keys, and I certainly never saw him carrying it. So I told her the truth, that I had no idea what the hell she was talking about."

"Ok, wait," Caroline says, shaking her head at the confusing chain of events. "If you didn't know anything about it this morning, how do you have it now?"

Cami sighs, putting away her empty plate. "Marcel gave it to me."

"Marcel had the key that was supposed to stay out of supernatural hands?"

"He knew about the key, and he also knew that as soon as my uncle was dead, someone would be showing up to take it. So as soon as he fell ill, he sent Josh to lift it off of him."

"That's… Kinda awful, actually."

"It is. But he wasn't wrong. Someone did show up very keen on claiming ownership over it."

Caroline goes quiet for a moment, trying to put all the pieces together. Marcel must have suspected Kieran's untimely illness and correctly assumed that Francesca could be the one behind it. Caroline has no warm feelings for Klaus' former protege at the moment, but it seems even from across the river he was able to pick up on Francesca's strange movements around the Quarter, and the way everything is slowly but surely going her way.

"What does it open?" Caroline asks, nodding towards the plain looking key in her friend's hand. If someone had mentioned a mysterious key keeping some kind of treasure that needs to be protected from supernatural creatures, she'd imagine something grandiose, made of gold and studded with gemstones. Not a rusty-looking tiny thing that looks like it might open someone's front door. And not even a particularly nice front door.

"That's the thing," Cami says. "I have no idea."

"What do you mean, you have no idea? Didn't Marcel tell you?"

"He doesn't know either."

Caroline blinks slowly. "What?"

"He says he knew about the key, but Kieran never told him what it was for. Only that it was important."

"And you believed him?"

Cami looks away from Caroline, down to the key in her hand. "I think he means well." Caroline scoffs, shaking her head. "I know you think he's scum because of what he did to Klaus a million years ago. And it was truly awful, but... Marcel's not a bad guy. He's an old vampire, and you know better than anyone the kind of baggage those come with. We've grown closer over the last few months, and I know he respected my uncle. Kieran helped him save Davina and hid her for months at the church. I don't think Marcel would lie to me. Not about this."

Caroline peers at her friend thoughtfully. "Well, clearly I'm in no position to judge your unwavering faith in old skeevy vampires," she says, pointing to her own swollen stomach. It draws a smile from Cami. "I just... Don't trust him."

"Caroline, he's not behind the bombs in the Bayou," Cami says earnestly, holding her gaze levelly. "Marcel is capable of a lot of things, but he wouldn't do that. He'd never hurt children."

Caroline twines her fingers together, resting her hands on top of her stomach. "I don't think he did it either. At least, if I had to bet, my money wouldn't be on him. But it doesn't change how I feel. I don't trust anyone these days. And this feels important. Francesca looked like she was seriously threatening you." Cami purses her lips but doesn't deny it. "If she finds out you have it -"

"I know the risks," Cami cuts her off. "This is my uncle we're talking about, Caroline. My family. If he died because of this key, just so she could get her hands on it, I need to find out what it's for. And whatever it is, all I know is I don't want her to have it."

Caroline knows the fiery look in Cami's eyes, she knows that steely determination behind her voice. It's exactly what she's been like so many times in the past few months while fighting Klaus and Elijah's overprotectiveness. Which is how she knows instantly that it's useless to argue against Cami. Caroline would do the exact same thing in her place, witchy powers or not. She can't help the worry coiling around her stomach, though. Losing Eve crushed her; she can't handle losing anybody else. Camille may be smart and resilient, but she's still only human, which makes her an easy target in a city like New Orleans.

Caroline lets out a sharp gust of air, maneuvering herself up from the chair. "Why do you have to be so much like me?" she grumbles as she stalks over to the door.

"Where are you going?" Cami asks, swirling around on the couch.

Caroline takes a deep breath, puts her palms flat against the door, and starts chanting lowly under her breath. This is a spell she would never be able to perform without a few ingredients or something to chanel, but thanks to baby girl Mikaelson, she has more than enough magic swirling around her veins to not only make it happen, but give it a proper boost.

After a minute or so, she feels the magic closing in around the house, threads of energy coming together to form an invisible barrier, surrounding the entire apartment like a cloak. Other witches might be able to sense it, since the signature force is quite strong. But, at least for now, it doesn't seem like Cami might be on the witches' hit list, so this should do. It's not much, but it's something. At least here, in her own place, Cami will be safe.

"It's done," she announces, turning back to Camille, who's looking at her with her lips parted and a questioning crease between her eyebrows. "It's a boundary spell," she explains. "No one will be able to come inside unless you invite them in. Vampires already can't, but this will keep out everyone else as well." Caroline walks over to Cami, falling back onto the couch next to her. "Maybe refrain from inviting in anyone you don't know for a while. Delivery guys, neighbors, hot dates -"

"Like I've been having many of those," Cami derides around an eyeroll.

Caroline smiles at her. "You should invite Marcel, though. It'll be useful to have him around, in case things get ugly. And please, whatever you do, promise you'll tell me if you think you're in danger."

Cami wraps a hand around Caroline's shoulder, pulling her into a half embrace and laying her head on her shoulder. "What would I do without you?"

"You were there for me in one of the scariest moments of my life, Cami," she says quietly, tilting her head to rest against her friend's. "We look out for each other."

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After the ceremony at St. Anne's Church, Father Kieran's funeral procession takes the streets of the French Quarter. It seems the entire city is in attendance. Even a couple of werewolves have made it out of the Bayou, which they haven't been doing at all lately, not since the bombings. Jackson Kenner has been keeping the entire camp under surveillance, issuing warnings to everyone against leaving the community for long. Every time someone can't be accounted for, panic immediately spreads. The consequences of the attack are far and vast, and the only reason they haven't retaliated yet, effectively bringing war to the streets of New Orleans, is because Niklaus has promised them the moonlight rings by the next full moon. But their presence today goes to show Father Kieran was a respected man even amongst the Bayou folks. Jackson must've allowed them a pass to come pay their respects, though the Crescents' alpha himself is nowhere to be seen.

Elijah gets that the procession is part of the city's traditions and that this was Kieran's wish, to be honored in true New Orleans style. He had been taking care of his community long before he was even appointed as the head of the human faction, and Elijah can appreciate the man's character, even if they weren't exactly friends. But for once he has to agree with Niklaus. All the music and the dancing and the clueless tourists joining in or taking pictures makes it feel more like a party than a funeral. As beloved as Kieran was, it's good to remember he's dead. What is there to celebrate? It's a bit farfetched to his tastes.

It is, however, a lovely day, so the walk is at the very least pleasant, if not a tad anticlimactic.

The only person who doesn't seem to be enjoying it is Caroline.

She woke up with a persistent cough and it's only gotten worse since. This is probably the warmest day they've had in a while, but Caroline has her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, like she's feeling terribly cold. Klaus' had a permanent frown on his face since she first started coughing and it is deepening into a scowl now that the fits are getting more frequent.

While Elijah would be the first to point out Niklaus' tendencies towards overreacting, he can understand his brother's concerns perfectly. It's normal for Caroline to get pains, sore muscles and discomforts every now and then, but, at least in theory, the baby's healing blood should prevent her from coming down with any longer lasting illnesses, such as a cold. Which is why her current situation rings all sorts of bells.

"Are you sure you're all right?" his brother inquires as they march through the streets, Caroline standing between the two of them. "You look -"

"A hundred months pregnant and hormonal as hell?" she cuts him off, clearing her throat. The coughing is leaving her in a mood.

"I was going to say lovely."

Elijah smiles at his brother's attempt at smoothness. Caroline cocks her head to the side, giving him an unimpressed look.

"God, I hate that woman," she mutters all of a sudden. Elijah follows her gaze and finds Francesca Correa, walking a little ahead of them, surrounded by all her 800 mobster brothers.

"You're fixating, love," Niklaus says.

"Damn right I am. She's awful. I'm pretty sure she's the one behind the attack."

"And how would you know that?" Elijah asks.

"I just do," she states with determination. "But I can't figure out why she would do that, or connect her to it. The way she talked, though..." Caroline trails off, a shadow crossing her eyes.

"Have you been speaking to her?" Klaus questions tartly.

"I saw her yesterday."

"Saw her?" Klaus parrots, clearly crossed. "Caroline, unless you tell me you casually bumped into her while taking an innocent stroll around the French Quarter -"

"Does it matter how it happened? I saw her, we had a chat."

"Meaning you went to interrogate her about the bombs."

Caroline shrugs. "Somebody had to."

Klaus grunts, his face crumpling up into a grimace. He opens his mouth like he's about to spit fire, but Elijah beats him to it. "Niklaus," he admonishes calmly. "Careful now."

His brother snaps his mouth shut, glaring at Elijah, but the warning seems to take effect. The last thing they need right now is for the two of them to start a lovers quarrel in the middle of a funeral procession, before the eyes of the entire city and some inconvenient tourists.

"My condition to return to the compound was no more surveillance. You agreed," Caroline reminds him.

"That was before I knew you'd be conducting private conversations with our enemies," Klaus fires back, his voice dropping to a much more restrained tone, but still seething.

Caroline turns to him with a sharp glint in her eyes. "She has more reason to be scared of me than I am of her," she bites out before picking up her pace to join Camille at the front.

Elijah sighs. "Very heartfelt, Niklaus."

"Oh? So you're ok with her antagonizing a mobster who's got half the city on the palm of her hand all on her own? Humans may be weak individuals, but once they unionize against us, they can cause damage. And last I checked, however powerful and resourceful she may be, Caroline is still very much mortal."

"I am well aware, brother, I never said I approved of it. I would just rather you took these discussions back home instead of upsetting her out on the street, where everyone can see and hear you," he says, bobbing his head towards the Correa clan.

Klaus lets out a huffing breath, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shaking his head. "I bloody hate funerals."

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"Cami!" Caroline calls as she jogs up to her friend, who's walking right behind the carriage-like thing pulled by horses taking the casket to the cemetery. Her eyes are puffy and red, but as soon as she sees Caroline, her lips break into a tiny smile.

"Caroline," she says warmly. "Hi."

She takes Cami's hand, giving her a gentle squeeze. "How are you holding up this morning?"

"Oh, you know." Her friend shrugs and leaves it at that.

Cami's strong, and she's handling all this a lot better than Caroline thinks she ever would, but she knows for a fact the worst part comes later. Funerals are terrible, but they give you something to focus on: all the bureaucracy and the practical parts work almost as an abstraction. It's the silence after the storm that is brutal. When the absence becomes tangible and reality comes crashing, hard.

She can't help but remember Elena. She wasn't even 18 when she lost her parents, her aunt, her uncle who turned out to be biological father, Alaric... When she lost Jeremy as well, she lost the last thread still holding her together. It was too much for her to take. Elena's mental strength and courage were astounding, but even she had a breaking point.

Cami's not a teenager anymore, but she's had to deal with so much loss already. Kieran was everything she had left. She doesn't have the same option as Elena, to turn off her emotions so she won't have to deal with the pain and the grief. Like everyone else, she'll just have to soldier on through soul-crushing feelings. And Caroline knows those only too well… It's awful.

She feels so powerless... Eve, now Kieran... All these good people being eliminated all over New Orleans in the name of a war she can't help but feel has a lot to do with her, too. With her baby, who's weeks away from being born. She's so done being pregnant, but suddenly she finds herself wishing the baby would stay put for another six months. Things have only gotten worse since she was brought to this city, chaos tears through the streets and gives no indication of slackening. The last thing Caroline wants is to bring her daughter into the world in the middle of this mess.

"You know I'm here, right?" she mutters softly to Cami, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "If this gets too much, you can -" Another coughing fit cuts her off. Caroline covers her mouth with her hand and turns away from Cami. "God, this is annoying."

"Are you ok?" Camille asks, concerned.

"Yeah, it's just -" More coughing. "This really annoying cough."

"Are you sure it's ok for you to be out here, marching?"

"I'm fine, just -" Caroline's throat burns, her eyes watering as a stronger wave hits her, lasting longer this time. "I'm sorry. I'm just gonna - Take a minute. I'll see you at the cemetery, ok?"

"You don't have to -."

Caroline motions for her to wait as she steps out of the procession, doubling over from all the coughing. Her vision begins to swim before her, her stomach roiling with nausea. She grunts at the sudden pain in her chest, like a fist tightening around her heart, stopping it. Caroline feels like she's about to throw up, but what comes out of her is thick and viscous. Dark. Blood.

Before she has any time to freak out, the world tips crazily around her and then it gives way to darkness.

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She comes to with a stabbing ache in her stomach, the coppery taste of blood coating her mouth. Her eyes fly wide open and she sits up so fast she almost gets whiplash, her hand landing protectively on her belly.

The room sways lightly before it finally comes into focus. Caroline regards her surroundings, confused. She's certain she was out on the street, but she just woke up back at the compound. Except... It looks different. Everything seems washed out and colorless, a bit blurry, as though she's seeing through some dirty lenses. She scrubs her eyes with the back of her hands, but nothing changes. She takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to think, but the air feels stuffy and charged, weighing down in her lungs as though it were heavy.

A violent chill rushes up her spine as she climbs off the table she'd been lying on - how the hell did she get here? - looking around the empty courtyard. Not a single sound, not even filtering in from the street.

This is weird, she thinks. The last thing she remembers is pulling out of the processions and coughing her lungs out until there was blood in her hands. She's wearing the same clothes, but her hands as perfectly clean now. Could this be a dream? A weirdly realistic one at that.

"Well, well, well." Caroline swirls around, startled by the voice coming from behind her. "I was looking forward to meeting you."

The man speaks in a heavy British accent that isn't immediately familiar to her. When he finally steps out of the shadows, Caroline is met by a cold and icy stare and a smile that does nothing to soothe the cruelty written across his features. She recoils, taking an unconscious step back, his eyes boring into her, hostile and mean. Caroline's face stills and sets.

It takes a moment, but it finally hits her — she knows this man. She's never seen him in person, but she's been hearing about him for ages. The world's most ruthless vampire hunter. The one who hunted the Original family — his family - for over a thousand years. The destroyer.

"Mikael," she breathes out, fear tearing through her.

His lips curl back into a vile grin. "I suppose we could say... We're family now."

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"I can hear the baby's heartbeat, but not hers," Niklaus utters as he puts Caroline down on the table, his voice laced with despair.

They were mindlessly following the procession when they heard Genevieve calling out to Klaus. She was further ahead with the rest of the witches, Elijah hadn't even seen her yet.

"Oh, for God's sake," Klaus grumbled next to him, already vexed. Elijah smirked as his brother lagged behind, shrinking into himself as he tried to hide from sight.

"If only all your mistakes followed you around like that witch, Niklaus…" Elijah mused. "Perhaps then you would learn -"

"Klaus!" she shouted once more, with such urgency this time that she caught even Elijah's attention. She was pointing towards something on the sidewalk. Klaus craned his neck and stepped away from the crowd to get a better look, and then Elijah saw all the color drain out of his face.

"Niklaus," he called, but his brother didn't hear him. Even though they were out in the open and in front of hundreds of locals and tourists, he flashed away. Elijah followed, and his own heart sank as he saw his brother lifting Caroline's unconscious body off the ground, her face smeared with blood.

"I saw her step out of the line, I thought she was throwing up," Genevieve said as she joined them. Elijah eyed her suspiciously, and she returned his gaze with a hard look. "I didn't do anything, I just saw when she started puking blood."

They weren't far from the compound, and it seemed like the most obvious place to go, so they took a detour to escape the crowd and, flashing through alleys and deserted streets, were there in less than a minute.

"She's not breathing," Niklaus says, his voice quivering as he combs the hair away from her face. His face crumples into an anguished grimace. "She's so cold…"

"I can help," Genevieve offers, taking a bold step forward, but Niklaus roars at her like an animal, baring his fangs and flashing his golden eyes.

"Don't touch her!" he snarls.

Genevieve flinches, her face going suddenly stiff.

"Niklaus," Elijah pleads, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying his best to hide his own fear as to not tip him off the edge. "She used to be a nurse."

Klaus looks at him as though he's gone completely insane, and maybe he has. For some reason, though, he doesn't feel Genevieve wants to harm Caroline. If she'd somehow been involved in this, she wouldn't have warned them. Besides, they don't know what's wrong with her. If anyone will know, whether it's magical or a human affliction, it's the witch with medical training.

Klaus grits his teeth at Elijah, but takes a tentative step away from the table, allowing the witch to approach.

"There's a spell I can do to find out what's wrong with her," she says. "Klaus, get chamomile from the pantry." His brother hesitates for a heartbeat, but then he takes off. "She's trembling... Elijah, your jacket."

He takes off his jacket and places it gently on top of her, his fingers brushing briefly against her unnaturally cold skin. Her face grows paler and paler by the second. Elijah feels sick.

"If you did this to her -"

"It wasn't me," Genevieve says in a clipped, incisive tone. "Believe it or not, Elijah, I have no intention to harm this baby."

"You locked her in a house and set fire to it," he snaps back, glaring.

Genevieve looks away from him, down at Caroline's immovable form. "That was before," she replies, almost sheepishly.

Before what? Elijah wonders, but he doesn't have time to ask. Niklaus returns with the chamomile, pushing it into her hands. Genevieve wraps it around a cloth, places her hand on top of Caroline's forehead and starts chanting.

Klaus steps away, scrubbing both hands across his face. Despite the fear unfurling in his guts, the despair threatening to take over, Elijah forces himself to remain calm for the sake of his brother. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if anything happens to Caroline here, Niklaus will lose it. Not just his control, but whatever shreds of humanity he still has left in him.

He turns back to Genevieve, who has her eyes closed and appears to be concentrated. Whatever she's doing, however, is not working fast enough. Caroline's heart remains unbeating, and the baby's has slowed down as well.

Klaus lets out a loud grunt, pulling back the sleeves of his jacket and biting violently on his own wrist. He pushes Genevieve away and puts his arm on Caroline's mouth, one hand cradling her head affectionately.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pleads, desperate. "Come on... Please, Caroline, please... Don't leave me."

Elijah shuts his eyes against the pain shooting through his chest.

"She's still not breathing," he says, lifting his head to look from Elijah to Genevieve, a despondent and overbright look in his eyes. "It's not working..." Niklaus lets out a painful, enraged wail, picking up a chair and throwing it across the courtyard. The sound is so raw, so damaged, Elijah almost can't believe it's coming from the Original hybrid.

They're losing her. They're losing the baby. And he's losing his brother.

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"This is a nightmare," Caroline mutters under her breath like a mantra, taking careful steps back as Mikael — Mikael — approaches her. How the hell is he here?! "I'm dreaming. This isn't real."

She blinks slowly, hoping that the next time she opens her eyes he'll be gone.

"On the contrary, my darling. This is very real. I assume my reputation precedes me." He makes a vague gesture with his hand and then, way too fast for her to react, closes the distance between them, grabbing her by the throat. "Welcome to my hell," he grits out, his eyes flashing. "Stuck in an eternity watching over that hideous creature my children call brother."

"How can you be here? You're dead!" Caroline closes her hands around his forearm and squeezes. Mikael's eyes widen in surprise at her strength, and she takes the moment to twist out of his grip. "How can I be..."

She stops talking all of a sudden as realization downs on her. If Mikael's dead, and she's seeing him, feeling him... Then it can only mean... "No... No, I can't be..." She puts an arm across her stomach, her heart pounding with panic.

This is the Other Side.

She's dead.

"The baby..."

"The baby?!" Mikael snarls, furious. "That child never had any chance! You're a witch, protector of the balance and nature, and you poison your bloodline by merging it with Niklaus' filth?!" He lets out a mirthless laughter, a terrible sound that reverberates across the walls. "That deathless vermin, fancying himself a daddy. Pathetic!"

His words steel something inside of her. Caroline's still very much scared, but white, hot anger rears to the front. Her face sets, her eyes alight with blazing courage. She puts her hand out, calling out to her magic with a kind of determination she hadn't felt in a long while. Mikael's leg bends and breaks at her command, tearing a painful howl from his throat.

"My daughter is not dead," she hisses. "And neither am I. If I was, you wouldn't be trying to kill me."

"Look at what that filth has already done to you." He looks up at her with disgust, breathing hard through his teeth as he tries to push himself off the floor. "Your eyes... The eyes of a beast."

"I was there when he bested you. When he killed you, you piece of trash." Technically, she wasn't. She was supposed to be, but Tyler drugged her and dragged her away, afraid the hybrids would kill everyone if Klaus ended up dead — ignoring the fact that, as one of them and still sired, he might've felt like retaliating as well, wherever he was. She never got to see Mikael's face or what happened at the end of the night, but he doesn't know that. "Your son already destroyed you."

"He is not my son! He's a scourge, a walking symbol of weakness! And there is no saving that atrocity festering in your womb. Niklaus will destroy it one way or another. Better it dies now. And you along with it!"

He charges at her again, but this time she's prepared. Caroline moves out of the way and uses magic to throw him against the opposite wall. He crashes onto a vase with a loud grunt and a few cracked ribs.

The more he talks about Klaus, the angrier she gets. She knew how terrible Mikael was — how cruel and sadistic. She's been hearing stories about him for years. But being here, in front of him, Caroline realizes she had no idea. This man is the very reason his children are all broken and damaged. He created them, helped Esther make monsters of them all, slit them with his own sword while they slept — and then he spent a thousand years persecuting them, destroying everything they ever dared to care for, leaving a trail of violence and hatred wherever he went, as though they were responsible for their own damnation. They never had a chance to be normal, human.

And he's the one thing Klaus has ever been afraid of in his life. The man he grew up calling father. Caroline knows that feeling only too well. She knows what it's like to look into the eyes of your parent and see nothing but contempt, to be tortured at the hands of the person who should protect and love you the most. It's a wound that never closes. Mikael scarred his sons and daughter forever, and then he blamed them for it.

Caroline will be damned if she'll let this monster end her daughter's life just to punish Klaus, like a thousand years of abuse wasn't more than enough.

"You chose a very bad time to talk shit about my daughter's father," she grits out, using her powers to break a piece of the railing and wield it like a stake. "You do not know the month I've had."

Caroline throws the stake at Mikael, straight into his chest. He screams in pain, writhing on the floor like the mediocre man that he is. She approaches him, grabbing the end of the stake with both her hands and twisting it in and up, into his heart.

"My daughter has an advantage Klaus never had," she mutters to him, making sure he's looking into her eyes as she finishes him off. "She will never, ever know you."

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Time moves painfully slow when you're waiting for a miracle to come.

"We should take her to a real doctor," Elijah says. Or that's what Klaus thinks he says, anyway. He can't be sure because his brother's voice is just background noise. Klaus has canceled out all sounds, focusing exclusively on the deafening silence of Caroline's heart. He can hear the baby's, but not hers. Genevieve must be chanting now for hours. Days. Eons. He doesn't know, has lost all touch with reality. All he knows is that it's been too long, and still she's not breathing. Caroline remains dead.

"If you move her, my spell will break!" he hears the snap in Genevieve's voice, blinking the scene in front of him back into focus. Caroline, lying motionless on top of their garden table, her face pale but for the blood-red stains on her lips and chin, her hair spread around her head like a golden halo. Elijah's trying to pick her up, but Genevieve has leaned over her body protectively, giving Elijah a hard, fierce look. She seems determined. Why would she be so determined to save Caroline? "There won't be enough time to get her to a hospital, she will die."

"She's already -" Elijah stops himself, scrubs a hand across his face. Then he turns to Klaus, an apology scribbled across the hard lines on his forehead. Klaus wonders if his brother can see the mirror of his nerves on his face, whether he's feeling the same splintering pain across his chest, the same mind-numbing fear coiling in his guts. "We can't lose the baby," Elijah says, softly.

Klaus grinds his teeth together against the twinge in his chest. "I can't lose her." His voice barely makes it past the hard lump in his throat, sounding distant to his own ears. "I can't lose either of them."

He lets out a sharp breath, on the edge of panic. Strangely, he's not angry, not yet. The rage will certainly come in due time. Right now, there's no space for anything else but dread. Klaus feels as though the floor dissolved underneath him and he got sucked into a black pit that has no end to its falling. Each glass-grinding second that passes without Caroline's heart beating, he feels sicker, weaker.

Genevieve gasps, and both brothers snap their heads towards her. Her eyes are wide with shock. "I know what to do. Elijah, get my bag. The gris-gris pouch. Now!" she commands with urgency.

Klaus approaches the table again. He swallows down against the ache in his heart; just looking at Caroline like this feels like getting pierced by a thousand knives.

"Please," he speaks, his voice pitched low and breaking around the edges, tears pricking behind his eyes. "Don't let her die."

"I'm trying," Genevieve replies earnestly.

Elijah returns with the pouch and she retrieves something from inside, holding it on top of Caroline's belly while her other hand rests on her forehead. She shuts her eyes and picks up the chanting once more.

A moment later, Caroline's eyes fly open, electric and wide. Her back arches as she gasps for air as though she'd been underwater. Klaus holds her, putting a hand behind her back and holding her chin with the other, forcing her to look at him. "It's ok, you're ok," he coos. "You're all right, love. You're all right." A desperate breath claws its way out of his body and even as he tries to support Caroline, he feels every muscle in his body trembling.

Caroline wraps her hand around his forearm in a tight grip, her breath ragged as she sits up, her eyes never leaving his face. She's shaking even harder than he is. Klaus takes Elijah's jacket that slid off her as she sat up and wraps it around her shoulders.

"I saw him." Her voice quivers, weak and raspy, barely above a whisper. "He tried to kill me."

"Who?" Elijah asks.

Caroline hesitates. "Mikael."

Klaus' jaw immediately sets as he exchanges an icy glance with his brother.

He knew it was too good to be true... The Other Side collapsing, Mikael's damned soul gone forever... That devil has returned from the depths of hell to torment them again. Won't he ever leave them in peace?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Caroline seems to be recovering fast, now that whatever was plaguing her has been thwarted. Color has returned to her cheeks, and even the baby's heartbeat has grown stronger once more, but her eyes are still haunted, and when she tries to stand, her knees threaten to give in due to a lingering dizziness. Niklaus picks her up in his arms and takes her up the stairs to her room, and all the while Elijah watches Genevieve.

His brother doesn't even acknowledge his former lover, barely spares her a glance, before disappearing from sight. All he has eyes for is Caroline, but she's hardly the only thing on his mind. Niklaus was awfully quiet, his expression pinched and grim.

He's thinking about Mikael.

Their father always did get to him in ways Elijah could never fully comprehend. His contempt since Niklaus was a boy made their brother always try his hardest to win his affection, to please him in any way he could. And the more he tried, the more Mikael seemed to despise him. He'd find fault in absolutely everything, and if Niklaus ever proved to be more capable than any of the others at an activity, which he frequently did, Mikael became twisted with rage. He'd punish him for being too good with a sword, with the bow and arrow, with a hunting knife. "You think yourself better than your brothers, boy?! Arrogant brat!" He took pleasure in seeing him cry, beg for forgiveness for things he never did, things he couldn't even understand.

Even from beyond the veil, that hideous man could not let Niklaus be. For the first time in centuries, his brother has a true shot at happiness. Something that can change him forever, finally put to rest the trauma and abuse he was subjected to for his whole mortal life as he becomes a father himself. Niklaus can right all the wrong that was done to him. Mikael was probably consumed with fury on the Other Side, watching as the son he always loathed found love and a family of his own. He had one day of touch with this world as the supernatural purgatory crumbled and he chose to use it to try and hit Niklaus where it would hurt the most by taking away the most precious things in the world to him: Caroline and the baby.

Elijah can only imagine what must be going through Niklaus' head right now. By the looks of it, nothing good. If he knows his brother at all, this will eat at him all night. All week. Maybe longer.

Even though Caroline and her child are safe, Elijah feels defeated. Not having protected Niklaus from Mikael as he should've is the greatest regret of his mortal life, and he's carried all of it with him into the immortal one. If he'd succeeded in killing Caroline, his father would've been taking her and his niece from him as well. But he didn't do it to get back at Elijah; it was all about Klaus. It is always about Klaus.

His brother has all the faults in the world, can hardly be considered a victim as this point, given all the great evil he has done to a great number of people, so twisted and broken he's become over the centuries, but Elijah can't help but wonder if he wouldn't be a better person altogether if he could just find some peace. Won't he ever be allowed an honest opportunity to change?

If anyone can touch the humanity deeply buried within the darkness that's corrupted Niklaus' soul, that's Caroline. And Genevieve seems to have realized it as well. Her face is a mask of impassiveness as Klaus walks away with the mother of his child, but the witch's icy blue eyes betray far more than she probably intends. She doesn't seem angry though, or even bitter; she looks heartbroken.

Foolish woman...

"That is never a good idea," he offers. She turns to him, her eyebrows arched in question. "To develop feelings for my brother. It hardly ever pays off."

The woman looks away from him, pressing her lips into a fine line as she collects her belongings.

"Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," comes her stilted reply. "I'd take her to a doctor once she's gotten some rest, but I'm sure she's in the clear."

"Yes, it sounds like a good idea to have a second opinion."

"Whatever you might think of me, Elijah, I'm not a monster."

"You tore my sister from my family. I cannot forgive that."

"Your sister reaped what she sowed," she says, leveling him with a challenging look. "I won't apologize for that."

"I didn't think you would. Just wanted to make that clear. I'm grateful for what you did today, as I'm sure my brother is. But you're still not welcome here."

"Well, then. I'll see myself out."

A more sensible part of Elijah wonders if perhaps he shouldn't be more gracious towards an all-powerful witch, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't forgive her for breaking up his family. She almost destroyed everything. Whatever fault his sister might have, Elijah won't ever stand against her. His loyalties are unshakable.

He busies himself with fixing the mess at the courtyard before moving on to the study room to pour himself a much needed drink. Another day, another attack against the life of his unborn niece. He wonders if this is what this child's life will be like every single day. How are they supposed to keep her safe once she's born? Won't she ever be able to go to school? Have friends? And what about when she is grown, at that age when young girls start dating? Niklaus will be delightful, Elijah can already tell. But not without reason. How are they ever going to trust anyone who comes near her, when so many have tried to take her life before she is even born?

These are matters that will have to be discussed. Perhaps Caroline should go back to Mystic Falls, after all. The city is not without its own perils, but it's nothing compared to the reigning catastrophe in New Orleans. And at least there she'll know the vast majority of the city will want her child safe, whereas here it is the exact opposite. Klaus would never let them go on their own, though, and Elijah cannot imagine his brother wanting to return to their birth place. It's a wonder he spent as much time there as he did before. Their homeland brings nothing but awful memories back. For one thousand years they've wanted nothing more than to escape those roots that insisted on chasing them in the form of their father. It's probably the last place Niklaus would ever want to raise his daughter in.

Elijah is pulled out of his contemplation by the sound of glass shattering not too far down the hall. So it's begun. He lets out a weary sigh and gets up, meaning to go to his brother. He will certainly be in one of his famous moods tonight. As he passes by Caroline's room, however, he sees her sitting on her bed, both hands on top of her belly. She's changed out of her bloodied clothes and got herself cleaned up, but her distant gaze is still stricken with fear. He's suddenly hit by a sense of deja-vu; how many times has he seen this scene now?

She flinches when he knocks on the door.

"Forgive me," he says softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't. I'm just a little... Jumpy, I guess."

"How are you feeling?"

Caroline scoffs softly. "Ask me again tomorrow."

Elijah goes quiet, his eyes sliding away from her for a moment, then back. "Did my father... Did he hurt you?"

"He tried. But I guess he was a little misinformed about me," she says, grinning shortly. "My Barbie Witch looks will sometimes cause the wrong impression."

A flicker of humor shows on his brown eyes. "My father was always a terrible judge of character. Nevertheless... I am sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Elijah."

"I feel like my family does nothing but bring you pain."

Caroline touches her belly again, her lips curling into a genuine smile as she looks back up at him. "Not all pain."

"You're quite resilient. Fighters, both of you."

She shrugs. "I guess we've had to be, especially lately."

Elijah cuts the distance between them and, leaning forward, places a long kiss on top of Caroline's head, finally allowing a measure of relief to wash over him. "You gave us quite the scare today. Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."

She turns her clear gaze up to him again. "Thank you."

More glass shattering further down the hall, and the two of them exchange a knowing look.

"That's the second already," Caroline murmurs.

"He's... struggling," Elijah says. "I should go talk to him."

"No," she says, pushing herself off the bed. "Let me."

Elijah regards her for a heartbeat — heavily pregnant, slightly shaken, having just recovered from being dead for a few minutes. She should be resting, replenishing her energy, but still a flame burns behind her eyes, and her determination is palpable, as is her concern for Niklaus. Elijah nods his head once, stepping out of her way. Caroline gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and he places his hand on top of hers, so grateful that he's still able to do this, before she walks out.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Klaus doesn't know how to retire into a drink and mourn quietly. He has issues expressing his feelings — the good ones, anyway, love and compassion and mercy — but he certainly wears his pain and his anger as bright as a supernova, sucking everyone around him into it. Crashing and burning is his favored way to deal with soul-afflicting agony; the faster he sets fire to it, the faster it'll be gone. Or so he seems to think. Clearly there's a flaw in his logic, if he still hasn't been able to shake off some of those afflictions. Instead of exorcising his demons, he buries them deeper within. It's inevitable that, at some point, they'll just come spilling out again.

Caroline is not surprised to see that he's transformed his room into an extension of the wreck that he obviously feels on the inside. The glasses they heard were by far not the only things he's destroyed. Canvases, paintings, easels, his own brushes, half of his bookshelves... He tore it all apart.

She supposes they should be grateful he's taken it all out on things, instead of going out to ravage people.

Klaus was insufferable the day before just because he had a bad dream about Mikael. The mood he's in right now... It's something else. Getting Klaus riled up is easier than stealing candy from a child, but nothing gets to him quite like the man he calls his father. Caroline won't presume to understand how he feels, but she can sympathize. Her own nasty dad is a bit of an open wound as well, even years after his death. There's a kind of heartache that comes from being rejected and humiliated by someone you can't help but love that is hard to erase.

She steps over the remains of his outburst to find him at the balcony, staring out into the night. The expression on his face is taut and grim, his eyebrows pinched at the center. There's blood around his feet, and she realizes he must've hurt himself while he tore the room apart. She approaches him gingerly, like someone who approaches a wild animal, and takes his hand in hers to take a closer look. It's stained with blood, but whatever cut was there has already closed. If only the cuts in his soul would heal as easily as the ones on his body.

Even as she stands next to him, Klaus looks distant, trapped in some faraway memory. She studies the hard lines of his face, the way his shoulder is taut with tension, the stormy blue of his eyes. That's the old Klaus she sees there, the heartless monster who arrived in Mystic Falls years ago hell-bent on murdering Elena. The Klaus Mikael shaped when he chased his children out of the city they loved and cherished, their home. That Klaus scared the hell out of her. She didn't kick Mikael's ass today just so he could win by ruining his son's life all over again.

Caroline wraps her hand around his, bringing it up to her lips and placing a tender kiss on his palm. Klaus turns to face her at last, his eyes finally focusing.

"He's gone, Klaus," Caroline speaks softly. "You killed him."

His gaze slides away from her, and he pulls his hand free. "And yet he's returned from the grave to torment me. Mikael is a disease, and I've been infected a long time ago. He'll never be truly gone."

"Only if you let him. You spent so much time running away from him in fear that you forget what it's like not to. You still act as though he's here, but he's not, and he can't touch you. He died again today, Klaus. The Other Side is gone. There's nothing left of him anymore, not even his wretched soul. You're free."

He shakes his head stubbornly. "The scars left by my father run too deep," he grits out, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists.

"Look at me." Caroline touches his face with both her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Listen to what I'm saying. He can't hurt you anymore. He doesn't control you."

"He can't hurt me, but he almost hurt you." Caroline's stomach tightens at the helpless look in his eyes. He looks like his entire world has collapsed around him. She hates it so much, hates Mikael for having done this to him just as he was finally, finally moving forward. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I was supposed to protect you. You were meant to be safe here, in our home, with me. And yet... I'm the very thing that puts you in danger, time and time again. All I've done since the very first day is make your life miserable. I should've left you alone, should've allowed Tyler to return to Mystic Falls. I should've given you your freedom."

Caroline drops her hand from his face, drawing away, feeling a bit of a sting. "I have been scared, confused, doubtful, but I've never been sorry, Klaus," she starts solemnly. "Not for meeting you and not for getting pregnant either. You have a lot to apologize for, but not for this. Not for... Our baby." Caroline lets the words hang between them, the expression on Klaus' face wavering, before she continues. "Do you even want this baby?"

He avoids her gaze again, and Caroline feels as the sting grows into a sharp pang, her heart lurching. "What good will I ever be to her? Just ask Marcel. I spent decades trying to make it up for how his father treated him, and what did that accomplish? I failed him. And now I'll fail her, too."

"Don't give me that crap," she fires back, her voice sharpening in an instant. Klaus looks up at her surprised at the sudden change. There was an edge to his voice that made her bristle. Like he's given up already — on her, on the baby, on himself even. Like he's resigned himself to the fact he just wasn't cut out for any of this and his life is doomed to be darkness and misery for the rest of eternity. Like Mikael was always right. "No. I won't take any of that. I refuse to. You're not allowed to do that now. If you were gonna pull that crap, you should've done that a long time ago. Seven months, to be more precise, when we found out I was pregnant. You had every chance to back down and you didn't. You can't wait until I'm almost popping to tell me you're done playing dad."

"I didn't -"

"No," she cuts him off, jabbing a finger at his shoulder. "Do you understand? No. I will not let you. I know all about crappy dads and I wouldn't be here anymore if I thought you were a danger to our daughter in any way. If I thought that she'd be better off not knowing you, I would've left and you'd never find us. Don't fool yourself into thinking you made me stay here. The choice was always mine. I'm here because I want to be. Because I trust you. Because I refuse to give up on you, so no. You're not giving up on me either, and that's not a request." She shakes her head, her frayed temper not backing down as indignation flares up. "All that because Mikael paid a visit?"

"Paid a visit? Caroline, he killed you," he bites back.

"I'm not dead. He is. Why do you even care about what he has to say? He was a terrible father, and not just to you. I'm not gonna let you use him as an excuse. You're scared, Klaus, and I get that. I'm not exactly a well of serenity myself. But you don't get to sabotage this now because I need you. I can't do this alone. So no, you don't get to punch out."

Caroline huffs out an annoyed sigh, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes ablaze with purpose. Silence spools, sudden and uncomfortable while she waits for Klaus to react, and each second it takes him to come up with a response, Caroline feels her heart sink a little bit further, her anger slowly dissolving into fear that he's really going to panic now and disappear.

Klaus' shoulders sag as though under the burden of the whole world. He's got the weight of at least a thousand years there, which is heavy enough. But this isn't just about him. It hasn't been for almost nine months ago. Caroline did not stay in New Orleans until now just to let Klaus give up.

"I would never do that, Caroline," he says, quiet but earnestly. She lets out a slow breath, though her gaze remains hard on him. "But I would've certainly been better off without Mikael. Who's to say she won't be better without me?"

"You're not your father, Klaus," she speaks in a clipped tone. "You don't have to repeat the same cycle, you just have to do better. The fact you're worried at all says everything. It's a good start. In fact, that's where everyone starts. It's what good parents do, they worry. They try to make themselves better for their kids so that their kids can be better than they are. It's not that hard. All you have to do is love her. That's it. Everything else comes naturally if you do." She pauses before adding tentatively, "Do you? Love her, I mean."

A tired half-smile tugs at his lips, his eyes softening just a tiny bit, but enough to undo the knot in her stomach. "How could I ever not love something that we have made together?"

"Well, good. Because I don't regret knowing you. We've had our... issues. And we're still working on that. You drive me crazy, Klaus," she accuses mildly. "It's all I can do sometimes not to smack you on the head, like right now." Caroline falters, losing some of that fighting steam as warmth finally hums through her, bleeding into her voice. "But I'm not better off without you. And she won't be either."

She had no intention whatsoever to start a fight today of all days, only meant to comfort Klaus, to offer him whatever reassurance he needed to snap out of his anguish-driven tantrum. But she is way too tired and way too pregnant to let this pass. Mikael is a royal asshole who ruined his children for eternity and in doing so screwed up the lives of many, many generations of innocents who have suffered at their hands — but she will not let a dead man ruin her life, too.

She may not have wanted to start the argument, but since she was basically coerced into it, Caroline meant to hold her ground and not back down. The scorching intensity in the look Klaus gives her then, however, utterly disarms her. All the fire bleeds out of her as he pulls her into him, desperate arms grabbing and holding her firmly as he kisses her with such need, such devotion, that she simply melts into it.

"You were dead," Klaus murmurs, his forehead resting against hers. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You didn't. And I told Mikael exactly where he could shove his hatred when I kicked his ass today," she says. "It felt really good."

Klaus lets out a soft puff of amusement. "I wish I'd seen it."

Caroline chuckles, peppering kisses along his jaw. "I think we could both use a good night of sleep," she says, pulling away from him. "I don't know about you, but I could sleep for a month. And preferably only wake up with the baby already outside." She offers him a hand, and he arches his eyebrows at her. "What? I said sleep. Unless you'd rather stay here in this war zone." Caroline scrunches up her nose at the mess he's made in his room. It makes her itch.

Klaus' eyes sparkle with mischief, but his smile is good-natured when he takes her hand.

He gets cleaned up while she slips into her pajamas — the really old, really oversized one, the only thing that still fits comfortably at his stage, the type she'd never, in a million years, consider wearing to go to bed with the guy she's into. Sexy lingerie couldn't be further away from Caroline's mind, though. At eight and a half months pregnant, all she wants is comfort, first, second and third. And Klaus. That's kind of a big deal, too.

He washes off the blood and the alcohol and returns smelling of the lavender soap from her bathroom, his wet hair sticking up in odd places and curling at the bottom. Caroline thinks it's kind of unfair that he looks so ridiculously good while she's all bloated in old sweatpants, but the odd domesticity of the moment leaves her stunned for a second. Klaus out of his jeans and Henley uniform, fresh out of a shower, wearing some dark silky pants and a simple white t-shirt; her in her million-years-old unflattering pants, getting into bed together, cozying up under the covers. As though they've been doing this forever. Like life can be just this easy.

She almost wants to grab her phone and snap a picture of him now. It's the most ordinary he's ever looked — not ready for battle, not covered in blood; barefoot and all. And perhaps precisely because of that, she feels like she's never been more attracted to him. More enamored.

It's certainly striking, but not in a bad way. Not at all. Caroline feels a sudden lightness as she puts her head on his chest, one of her legs snuggled between his, and hums softly in contentment. It's impossible to find a good enough position to sleep in with this much baby. But with this Klaus pillow is definitely the most comfortable she's been in bed for a while.

Klaus wraps an arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head.

"I can't lose you, Caroline," he confesses against her hair, breathing her in as though he doesn't believe she's real, like she might vanish out of thin air.

She lifts her face just enough to kiss his neck, her hand resting on top of his heart, still beating slightly off-rhythm. "Good thing I'm not going anywhere, then."

In the gentleness of that moment, in the middle of all that reassurance, Caroline feels a thread unraveling inside of her. Like the worst is already behind them, and things are going to be fine now. Klaus is still going to be impossible and she's gonna want to slap him twice a day, but for the first time, Caroline thinks they might be ok after all.

She counts his heartbeats until the sound becomes distant, abstract, and then she falls asleep.

TBC

---

A/N: So. Let's talk baby names. Throughout the course of this story, I've received some comments from people basically begging me not to call the baby Hope. I have a few alternative options that I like, but I'm not in love with any of them. One I like more than the others, but it was pointed out to me that there's another implication to it. Still, I'm considering everything. My question is: would you absolutely hate it if the baby was called Hope or would you prefer me to keep the name as it is? I'm not asking for name suggestions because I'm very specific about the kind of thing I have in mind (it needs to make sense within a certain context, rather than just be a pretty name), so I'm really wondering how many of you hate the idea of a baby Hope Forbes-Mikaelson. Also, don't yell at me! It's just a question, guys!

As always, please comment and review because I am seriously dying for your reactions on this chapter!

Edit: So, guys, I really appreciate the investment, which is awesome, but I'm just going to reinforce that I'm not asking for suggestions on baby names. I already have an idea in my head, I'm really just running a poll on Hope vs Other names. Please, don't send suggestions, I really don't want anyone to be disappointed if I didn't pick yours.