A/N Welcome back! Thank you for the lovely guesses and feedback! I just want to reiterate that I am not a federal agent or a lawyer, I have never been to prison nor am I an expert in interstate toll booth violations. I put an immense amount of research into making this story as believable as possible, but keep in mind that it is fictional and there may be an insignificant detail off here or there. The overall purpose is to put us in Caroline's shoes, so I'd really love to hear what you'd do if you were her! Let me know in a comment or feel free to PM me on tumblr. And to those of you feeling sorry for Klaus and pissed at Rebekah… Right there with ya. This chapter focuses on how she comes to her decision and we'll find out tomorrow what she decides. Please let me know what you think! (No concrit please)

Chapter Four – Doubt

"Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light." – Prayer of St. Francis

8:27 PM – Three Hours, Thirty Three Minutes to Execution

As soon as Caroline pulled her SUV out of Terre Haute Penitentiary, the buzz of the gate echoing loudly in her ears, she pulled over to the side of the road and threw up. Bile burned the back of her throat as she vomited until there was nothing left, tears streaming down her face as she coughed and sputtered. Once she'd emptied the contents of her stomach and was left with nothing but dry heaves, she sat back against the driver's seat with a gasp, dragging in deep gulps of frozen winter air. Turning her phone back on, she saw that it was around half past eight and she had a dozen missed calls and texts from Logan. Klaus had three and a half hours left to live unless she turned in the confirmation of his alibi. Without a clue what to do, she steered back onto the road and started to drive around aimlessly after texting her boss that she had another lead to follow up and ignoring it when he asked for details.

Klaus was innocent; of that, she was sure. His baby sister shot Stefan Salvatore because he'd done something terrible to her at a very young age. Caroline had been working in the Violent Crimes Unit for sixteen years and had seen more horrors than any person ever should. But never before had she she felt absolutely no compassion for a murder victim. In fact, she understood why Rebekah did what she did, even if she couldn't justify it with the law she fought so hard to uphold. The only thing worse than feeling no compassion for her victim was how much she felt for Klaus. He'd pleaded guilty to a crime he did not commit to spare his sister decades in prison, and possibly even the death penalty. Instead of wasting her brother's sacrifice and continuing down a criminal path, she'd changed her course and dedicated her life to helping others, forsaking her family and their blood money. Was sending her to prison now really justice?

Klaus Mikaelson was not a good person. He'd been involved in everything from gun running to drug trafficking and probably had at least one murder under his belt if he'd been responsible for Mikael's accident. Still, he hadn't been convicted of any of those crimes, only the one he definitely didn't commit. Wasn't everyone innocent until proven guilty? In his case, he was guilty until proven innocent only a few hours ago. But he didn't want to be. At the hour of his death, he'd looked her in the eye and asked her to let him die. His final wish was that his sister remain free, a woman who would likely never commit another crime. If Klaus was freed, he might be reformed after his time in prison, leaving the country and keeping his hands clean like he'd said. But he might go back to his old ways, especially if she didn't make sure Rebekah knew to run. Was freeing him now really justice?

Without Klaus' corroboration of his own alibi, there was no way any judge was going to grant a stay of execution. She either had to report that he'd admitted it was him or that he'd denied it. Strictly speaking, he hadn't expressly stated it was him in the photograph, but he'd given her enough that if she handed in the recording of their conversation – the one he didn't even know existed – the investigation would be reopened with or without his cooperation. It would be easy enough to blame the loss of that particular audio file if she happened to break the recorder, but could she really do that? She honestly didn't know.

The only thing Caroline was absolutely sure about beyond a reasonable doubt was that if Klaus died, the truth died with him. And it was up to her to decide his fate.

The agent's phone rang three more times before she silenced the ringer, no idea what to say. She drove around aimlessly for half an hour as she mulled it all over. Only vaguely aware of what she was doing, she pulled in to St. Anne's Church. Mindlessly, her feet carried her to the door of the rectory and her hand knocked of its own accord. A man in his fifties with black hair shot with grey opened the door with a curious expression on his face. He looked nice enough, although he wasn't dressed like any priest she'd ever seen. His stubble was overgrown and was wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, leading her to the awkward realization that she may have woken him. He looked her over and noted the golden badge and gun on her hip.

"Is there something I can do for you, officer?"

"Agent," she automatically corrected him, voice coming out in a monotone.

"My apologies," he replied kindly, still eyeing her speculatively. "What can I do for you, agent? Has a crime been committed?"

"I think one is about to be." Her voice sounded hollow and she shook her head to bring her focus to the man in front of her. Her sapphire eyes carried the weight of the world as she peered up at him, voice cracking as she gulped. "I think… I just need to talk to somebody."

Flicking his gaze up and down the strange woman on his doorstep, the older man nodded sympathetically and opened the door. "Come in."

"Thank you, Father...?"

"Kieran," he finished for her, leading her into his modest sitting area. He gestured at a small couch, taking a seat across the coffee table from her in a heavily worn plush green chair. Mind still hazy, she sat without thinking about it. "What can I call you, Agent?"

"Caroline," she said quickly, remembering the way her name sounded in Klaus' accent. "It's just Caroline."

"Well, what can I do for you, Caroline?"

The blonde opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure what to say. After a moment past while he just stared at her intently, she blurted out, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned." The priest quirked his eyebrow at her; she blushed awkwardly, face burning. "Sorry, I only know that from TV. I'm not Catholic."

Father Kieran smiled kindly, nodding his head in understanding. "I didn't think you were," he replied, amusement coloring his tone. "My doors are open to people of all faiths."

Caroline sighed, looking around at the small place this strange, kind man called home. It smelled like oils and herbs she recognized from investigations in other churches. The colors and styles were all over the place; she supposed most of his furniture was donated. There was a full-sized bed with a patchwork quilt settled in a far corner, a small kitchenette a few feet away and a blue door she figured led to an equally modest bathroom. It felt cozy in an odd sort of way. Looking back at the priest, she shrugged and confessed quietly, "I don't know if I have a faith."

The older man smiled as he leaned back in his comfy chair, bare feet flat on his worn sage carpet. "Something brought you here tonight. If it wasn't God, what was it?"

Her response was soft, head hanging between her shoulders; she just felt so defeated. "Doubt."

Father Kieran chuckled and it was a warm sound that put her at ease. "Without doubt, how could their be faith?"

Caroline looked down at her feet, boots heavy on the ground. "I have no idea." Her voice sounded small in her ears as she shook her head. "That's the problem, why I'm here. I don't know what to do." He watched her silently, letting her find the words to tell him what was wrong. Sighing, she leaned back against the tiny sofa and wiped her hands down her face as she gathered her thoughts. She looked over at him and he could see the confused anguish all over her pale features. "How do you know the difference between right and wrong?"

"Well, the Bible teaches us what's sin and not sin," he replied casually, although that clearly wasn't the answer she was looking for. "The laws of man often come from the word of God. If something is illegal, it's probably wrong. For everything else, there's prayer."

"I don't even know how to pray," she admitted, looking away. Sensing she hadn't come to learn how to say a Hail Mary, he steepled his fingers together and watched her thoughtfully, wondering what demons an FBI agent could be battling so fiercely that they'd lead her to a stranger's door at this hour. His guest leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, peering up at him beneath long lashes that had long since lost their mascara, the remnants of black streaks rolling down her cheeks. "Can the right thing ever be wrong?" she asked tentatively, worrying her lower lip anxiously.

The priest exhaled in a whoosh, eyes reflecting his surprise. "That's a hard question, Caroline. I think it depends on the situation. What are we talking about here?"

The agent eyed him shrewdly, internally debating if she wanted to risk opening up to a stranger in a strange town in the middle of the night. Frowning, she asked seriously, "Are you allowed tell anyone what we talked about?"

"Well, that depends," he replied easily. "Are you here to make a confession?"

Unsure how Catholic rules worked, she bit her lower lip and asked worriedly, "If I say yes, does that mean you won't say anything?"

Father Kieran's eyes darkened, almost as if he were offended by the question. "The sacred seal of confession is absolutely inviolable under all circumstances. Breaking it for any reason is a grave sin punishable by excommunication," he replied sternly. "No offense to you and your situation, but whatever it is, I'm not going to hell over it. If you say you're here to confess to me in my capacity as a Priest, you have my holy vow that whatever you say here is between you, me and God."

"Good," she replied in relief as she leaned back against the sofa, shoulders slumping. "That's what I thought, but I wanted to check." She looked over at him sadly, heart heavy with tortured confusion and saw his raised brow. Looking away, she inhaled a deep breath. "Yes, Father. I'm here to make a confession," she whispered, unable to meet his eye as she felt a flash of guilt at hiding behind a technicality she didn't feel she deserved as a person with no religion of her own. "Do I have to say a prayer or something?"

Father Kieran smiled, biting back a chuckle. "There are formalities, yes, but we can forego them just this once."

"Are you allowed to do that?" she asked in confusion. "Don't you have rules?"

The priest sat back in his chair and looked over at her contemplatively. "You know, if there's anything I've learned since I took my vows, it's that not everything is black and white. Should you be coming to me in a confessional booth behind a shield? Yes, but sometimes, we have to make exceptions to every rule. So, why don't you just tell me what brought you here and we'll go from there?"

His words hit her like a bolt of lightning. Wasn't everything supposed to be clear in this world? There were rules and rules were not meant to be broken because that was wrong… right? Then again, if she truly believed that, would she even be sitting here with him now? Sighing, she leaned back against the sofa and ran her fingers through her hair. "It started fifteen years ago, and it's a really long story."

Nodding his head, he sat back in his chair and crossed his hands in his lap. "I've got time."

Father Kieran listened quietly for the next half hour as Caroline recounted all about Klaus' case, omitting any names for good measure. Her voice broke and tears swam in her eyes when she confessed that she knew he wasn't guilty. At least, that he wasn't guilty of that particular murder. She explained what kind of life he'd led, and the kind his sister had chosen. And she told him how he'd promise to leave the country and never come back if only his sister could do the same. The longer she talked, the more it all seemed to make sense. And the more she wished it didn't.

Wiping her tears with a tissue from the box he'd silently pushed her way, she looked up at him with wide eyes. "So, what do I do?"

The priest said nothing at first, crossing one leg over the other as he considered the woman who'd come to him looking for an answer to an impossible question. "People come to the church at times like these for answers, but I have none," he told her honestly, a hint of sadness in his tone. "I can tell you what the Bible says about lying, about murder, about any number of different sins. I can tell you that the Catholic Church opposes capital punishment. I can tell you that God will forgive those who atone. I can teach you about absolution and take your confession, but I can't tell you what you should ultimately confess for." She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled slowly, clearly disappointed with his reply. He waited for her to open them again before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and meeting her watery gaze. "But I think if you have to ask, you already know the answer."

Caroline peered deep into his chocolate eyes and found a wisdom lingering there that she longed for. Not everything was as black and white as she'd been led to believe, and the newfound grays were terrifying. As she sat there in his tiny living space, she felt a separate peace wash over her and realized he was right. Weighing what was right with what was just, she made her decision. Nodding her head, she wiped the last tear from her sapphire eyes and got to her feet, holding out her hand. "Thank you, Father. I don't how if there's a God, but if there is, may he have mercy on my soul for what I have to do."

"Kyrie, eléison," he said as he took her palm in his. At her quirked brow, he explained, "It means 'Lord have mercy.'"

Nodding as she let go of his hand, she wondered if anyone out there was listening. "I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night."

"Never apologize to turning to the church for guidance. It's what we're here for. Come back anytime." He led her to the door and opened it into the cold, winter night. "I know you have your doubts, but I have faith that whatever you do, God will forgive." Caroline's eyes snapped to his and for a moment, he thought she might burst into tears again. Instead, a small smile curved the corners of her lips. He made a genuflection over her face, smiling back gently. "Peace go with you." Unsure what the proper response was to that, she nodded one last time before turning on her heel. Holding her head high, she walked with purpose back to her SUV and drove back to the prison armed with whatever morals she had left.

If there was a God, all she could do was pray that even if He couldn't forgive, He could at least understand.

A/N Alright! Caroline's mind is made up. What do you think she's going to do? What would you do? Let me know!