Murderer.

The word hollowly echoed in her ears, heart pounding as she tried to wrap her brain around it.

Murderer.

No, there must have been a misunderstanding. Perhaps she'd heard wrong, the woman tried to reason.

"What did you just say, Stefan?" Caroline asked, full of hope that it had been a figment of her weary mind.

"Klaus Mikaelson is a murderer, Caroline."

The way he spoke was as if he took great pleasure in ruining her life once more. Tears of confusion and disbelief had already started to make their presence known, but the surgeon did not care. Stefan had seen his fair share of her crying for it to matter anymore. Not when the happiness she'd thought she'd found was inches away from being shattered. By Stefan. Again.

"No, you're lying," she weakly protested. "All your life, you've done nothing but deceive me. Why should I believe that this is any different?"

"It's the truth, Caroline. I swear. The Klaus Mikaelson I knew back in the day was a monster. He killed innocent people, tortured them, set their houses on fire, dealt weapons to gangs and terrorists."

The first warm droplet fell on its own accord down her cheek as the woman took in the words her former fiancée was spewing with such hate. The man he was depicting was nothing like the one she had met. Like the one she'd fallen in love with. It couldn't be true and if it hadn't been for Klaus constantly telling her that he was a despicable human being, Caroline wouldn't have given the Salvatore any credit.

But doubt had begun to fester and she could no longer turn her back on it. Sure, she'd seen Klaus's dark side, like when he'd almost killed Lucien Castle, but that had been to defend her. Her assailant had been anything but good and the woman had been able to understand and accept it. Sometimes, good people were forced by circumstances to do bad, but necessary things.

However, what Stefan was saying reached a whole new level. One she was almost sure she could never overcome.

So she had to cling onto the hope that maybe this was only jealously and hatred speaking. Otherwise, she would completely lose it.

Caroline shook her head as a stronger wave of unstoppable tears rolled down her face. "The Klaus I know is someone who went to war, who risked his own life fighting to make Syria a better place. He's someone who listens to what I long for in ways you never did throughout our relationship. Someone kind, who would teach a young girl he's just met how to swim. He's damaged, sure," flashes of his scars passed before her eyes. "But he's not the psychopath you're describing. He can't be."

Stefan's eyebrows furrowed momentarily at her lack of belief in his statements, but how could she trust the man who'd so vilely deceived her? Then, out of the blue, a smug smirk contorted his features.

"If you don't believe me, ask him, Caroline," he pointed towards the woman's back. "Let's see if he has the nerve to deny my words to keep up this façade he's built."

In her desperate, hurried turn, the blonde tripped over her heels and nearly fell, her shaking body barely managing to stay upright. As expected, Klaus was standing a few feet away from her, lines marring his forehead while his fists were so tightly clenched his knuckles had gone white.

"Is it true?" Caroline whispered barely audibly as her voice cracked.

The silence that met her was a clear enough answer. It meant her world had effectively crumbled, her heart shredded once more. Still, she stood her ground, waiting for actual words to confirm it. "Answer me, god damn it!"

He did in the form of an anguished, "Yes," that served to carve her heart out of her chest.

The one guy she'd fallen for had turned out to be a murderer.

Murderer.

Suddenly, her entire body felt cold, frozen to the core as uncontrollable sobs wrecked it. The images her eyes were seeing were a blurry mix of silhouettes dancing in the poor lighting, but that tall one was unmistakable even in these conditions.

Klaus. The man she'd believed to be the love of her life, her knight in shining armor, the one who'd slowly put her back together after Stefan had thoroughly destroyed her. Now, the Mikaelson had finished ruining her. Done a perfectly good job at that, too.

Unsteadily, Caroline went to leave the room, keeping her jade eyes glued to the floor as she passed by Klaus, not meaning to even spare him a glance.

Suddenly, a clammy hand clamped down on hers. Long, lean, strong fingers that she would never forget. Never forget how their light touch caressed her skin, soothing her, bringing her back to life when they entangled in her curls, moving in synch with their united lips.

"Caroline, please hear me out," he sounded so broken, pleading like she'd never heard him before. Everything inside of her wanted to comply, but she simply couldn't.

"Let go, Klaus," the words caught in her throat as more and more tears leaked out of her orbs, effectively blinding her. She hated how she croaked and how utterly unconvincing it had sounded, but how could she infuse her voice with a conviction she lacked?

"Please, let me explain some of what you've just heard," he sounded desperate.

"Explain?" her pitch climbed a few octaves. "What is there left to explain? God! I fell for you. I would've done anything for you and you didn't deign it important enough to tell me the small detail of you torturing people for sport?"

"It's truly not like that," Klaus weakly tried to stand up for himself. "And I did try to tell you, but you wouldn't allow it."

At that, Caroline started to cackle like a maniac through her whimpers. He actually had the audacity to act like this was her fault. "Yes, I stopped you because I thought what you kept bottled up was another story about war or maybe a dysfunctional family or abusive father or something like that. Never did it cross my mind that the man I slept next to was a sadistic killer!"

Klaus flinched at the harshness of her screams. She acted like she hated him and he knew he deserved it, but it still hurt. This rejection hurt more than he ever thought it would. More so because Stefan had given her a distorted version of events that left the Salvatore completely out.

"Five minutes, Caroline, that's all I'm asking for. After that, I'll be gone for good. You'll never see me again."

All fight completely abandoned her body at the resignation behind those words. Gone was the fighter she'd known before, replaced by a shadow of who he used to be. A defeated ghost.

"I…" her eyes travelled down to their entwined hands, a shiver still coursing through her veins at his mere touch. "I can't. Not right now, at least. Just let me go."

Unable to cause her any more hurt and suffering, the man's fingers limply dropped to his side, words hanging on his tongue, longing to be said, but if what Caroline needed right now was to put distance between them, he would grant her that even if it tore down whatever was left of him.

It wasn't like he was worthy of someone like her anyway. All he would bring her was even more heartache like tonight. Perhaps this was for the best.

Once free, the blonde spent a few more seconds staring straight at the man she continued to love in spite of all she'd found out. She still yearned for his comforting touch, for his protectiveness over her and her body still craved his kisses- the kisses of a cold-blooded assassin.

What did that make her?

This was too much. The throbbing in her head was nothing compared to her aching, bleeding heart.

So she ran. Ran as fast as her heels allowed it, out of the restaurant, ignoring the worried looks other customers threw her and entirely missing Valerie's content smile as she watched the broken woman stumble to the hotel.


Seeing Caroline walk away from his life, probably for good could only pale when compared to watching Henrik and Marcel die and knowing it had been his fault. The doctor had slowly grown to be the one ray of hope in his wretched life and now it was gone. The only person who'd made him feel human again had been torn apart from him.

A new wave of anger engulfed him and he had to close his eyes, inhaling deeply while counting to 10 to keep from running after her and force her to listen to his explanation.

He was all too aware that he was a murderer, but it hadn't been by choice and he most certainly hadn't enjoyed it like Stefan had made it seem.

In that precise moment, he was reminded of the man standing in front of him. His former friend was among the few people Klaus had cared about, but also one of the ones who'd hurt him most.

"Were you really delusional enough to think that Caroline of all people would accept your red ledger?" Stefan mockingly quipped. "She's too good for you and I'm glad she finally got it."

"Stefan," warning laced his voice as his fists tightened even more, blood starting to seep from where his nails were digging into skin. It was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to pounce on him. He was doing it out of respect for the bond they used to have. Apparently he was the only one who still cared, though.

"What's the matter, Klaus? Are you going to let the monster out to play? Because I know it is still in there, regardless of how you try to hide it."

"Perhaps, but we both know that you've got secrets Caroline and all of the others don't know. I was there, Stefan. You may not have pulled the trigger, but you most certainly did nothing to stop me. We've both committed atrocities and I might be the only one who has physically ended a life, but morally you are just as guilty as me."

That seemed to hit its mark straight in the centre as some of the Salvatore's confidence plummeted. No, Klaus was wrong, had to be wrong. Not once had he even come close to taking a life and there had been nothing Stefan could have done to prevent Mikael's wishes from becoming real. Besides, Klaus was the one who brought death to all those around him.

"No," Stefan shook his head. "That's not true. You're the only responsible for Henrik and Marcel's deaths. They died because they refused to abandon you. And what about Aurora? She truly was innocent. Her passing wrecked Lucien. Our friend nearly went insane because of you. Everyone who cares about you dies and I could not allow that fate to befall Caroline."

"You might be right about it being my fault," Klaus welcomed the accusations since they were only voicing what he thought himself. "But if I were you I would not treat Lucien as a victim. He's anything but."

"Really, Klaus? Are you really going down the road of blaming the sufferer?"

Tempers were flaring fast, both men barely in control of their raging emotions, neither willing to accept the other's point of view or come to grips with the flaws in their own judgment.

"Lucien should have just killed you in New Orleans," contempt shone in Stefan's hazel eyes, but Klaus could not be bothered by it. His mind was stuck on the implications of what had just been uttered.

"What did you just say?" he asked just to be sure, hoping he'd heard wrong.

"It's the truth, Klaus. You would have deserved it. I can't, for the life of me, understand why he let you go."

It couldn't be. If what he was thinking turned out to be true, it would be the proverbial nail in Klaus's coffin. That betrayal might just be too much for his already troubled mental state. Especially combined with Caroline's departure. It might unleash the darkness he'd kept locked away for so long.

"How do you know about that, Stefan?" he talked slowly and deliberately, trying to keep in check.

The Salvatore's orbs narrowed as he correctly read between the lines, understanding that there was more than met the eye here. "I told him where to find you," sincerity poured out of the confused man.

It was enough to open the demon's cage.

With something akin to primal rage, Klaus pounced on him, hand pressing down on his neck, nearly crushing his trachea with strength fueled by his fiery fury. "Wha…" Stefan struggled to speak, but could not put together more than three letters before he ran out of air.

Yet the Mikaelson knew perfectly well what he'd been meaning to ask and responded anyway. "Lucien, that poor guy you were singing odes to, that nice person that you say I destroyed killed an innocent woman in New Orleans. Carved her up like a piece of meat and left her to bleed out on the street naked. All because she spoke to me, because I smiled when I looked at her, because I was starting to feel something for her."

Stefan's ears could not believe what they were hearing. If it was true, and he genuinely had no reason to doubt it, then he was partly to blame for it.

"He nearly killed Caroline, too," Klaus's grip tightened on his windpipe at the mention of the suffering Caroline had most likely experienced. "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you on the spot?"

Although it had been more of a rhetorical question, the oldest man's vice weakened just a fraction, making room for some air to enter Stefan's lungs. "She'll… never forgive you if you do," he croaked while heavily panting.

His argument was actually a viable one he'd taken into consideration, but Camille had been vilely assassinated because of Stefan Salvatore and Klaus wasn't sure he could overlook that. Not like he was sure Caroline would forgive him even if he turned his back on revenge for her, either.

That in mind, he started to apply more and more pressure, feeling the neck viscera start to mold into his hands, contracting desperately as he squeezed, attempting to draw in some oxygen. Pale as a sheet, the Salvatore could only stare into those troubled ocean eyes and pray for mercy.

Having almost passed out, tethering on the edge of consciousness, Stefan was fully aware his end was near. Seconds and it would all be over.

On the other side of the poetic battle ring, Klaus found himself relishing in finally exacting some punishment for the harm which had fallen on Camille and also Caroline.

Caroline.

The mere mention of her name, even as a conjuring of his mind, served to give him pause. Sure, he was mostly doing this for retribution on her behalf, but would she really forgive him killing Stefan? The answer was crystal clear: not in a million years.

Absurdly, that weighed more than his vengeance. Once more, his feelings for the blonde were enough to stay his hand. Glancing at the nearly blue Stefan, anger still simmering beneath the surface, Klaus fought to pull away. To lock the monster back in its cage, but its thirst for blood was too much and it had to be sated.

Unfortunately, he couldn't accomplish that with Stefan. Using all self-control he knew he had and drawing from hidden reserves, his chokehold started to loosen. A frenzied roar escaped his lips and he let the man slip through his fingertips, nerves still flayed and pushed well beyond their limit.

Watching his former friend crawl away, massaging his neck and gulping greedy mouthfuls of air did nothing to help calm him down. Accomplished quite the opposite, actually. His fist clenched once more, longing to feel the familiar sensation of bone crushing under its assault. When he was this wound up, Klaus knew he wouldn't rest until his appetite for violence had been satisfied.

The collision was unexpected and it left Stefan flinching, moving even further away from the maddened man as the sound resonated across the hallway. Klaus's clenched hand had viciously crashed with the nearby wall, leaving a literal dent in it as pecks of blood painted the once beige drywall.

Splitting pain erupted from his fingers, but a gentle flex proved that his effort had unfortunately been unsuccessful in actually inflicting some real damage. Unable to stand the pitiful sight of Stefan lying on the floor and unsure of his self-control, Klaus made to leave the restaurant when a raspy voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry…" Stefan murmured. "I honestly didn't know Lucien was that far gone."

An apology. A feeble, weak, good for nothing apology. Somewhere behind it hid the man Klaus had once considered friend, but now, with all he knew, the only thing that could ever exist between them was hatred and resentment.

"That means nothing to me and it certainly can't bring the dead back to life. Don't ever speak to me again, Stefan because if you do, I don't respond for my actions."

Leaving him alive was the only courtesy Klaus would grant and Stefan should be grateful. After all, the evil monster he'd described to Caroline wouldn't have had any qualms about killing the Salvatore.

Caroline.

She was way more important than this and the man couldn't allow things to end like this.

No, he would give it one more try. One more try to get her to listen to his story. Hear the real events and although he was sure she would still want him out of her life, at least she wouldn't think of him as insane.

After all, his sanity was one of the few things Mikael hadn't taken away from him.


By sheer luck Caroline had managed to reach her hotel room safely and without running into anybody familiar. Honestly, she wouldn't have been able to take it. Tears had not ceased, their flow probably getting stronger and stronger with each second that passed by.

Seconds in which Klaus's betrayal and lies sunk in deeper and deeper.

How could he have lied to her? More importantly, how could her assessment of his character have been so very wrong? Shaking, she barely unlocked the door, not minding a cleaning lady's question regarding her welfare.

What could she have answered anyway?

As soon as she entered the room, she was hit with undeniable proof of Klaus's presence there- the one thing she wanted to forget.

Black worn-down leather jacket.

Thin white t-shirt.

Even the bottle of water he'd carelessly thrown across the bed.

They all screamed his name.

Emerald landed on a piece of paper she'd placed on the nightstand beside her head, knowing fully well what it was. His drawing of her.

The memories it brought back seemed so vivid, yet so far out of reach. Lost forever. That thought was enough to tip her breaking point. The onslaught of emotions they awoke was so much stronger than even her ability to keep standing. Slowly, weak knees buckling, Caroline collapsed against the wooden door, buried her face in her trembling hands and wept.

Wept for what had been. Wept for what she'd been told. And most importantly, wept for what could have been.

Watching your illusions crumble was so hard and having it happen twice was nearly insurmountable.

Klaus's broken image as he confirmed Stefan's words haunted her every breath. He had looked so vulnerable, raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface. So different from what he'd admitted to being. She would have given anything for it to be a disgusting lie that her ex-fiancée had made up, but one word had proven it to be true.

A timid knock, halted her destructive thoughts, making room for confusion as to who could come at this late hour.

Wiping at the tracks on her face in an attempt to look as together as possible for whomever it was, Caroling swallowed back the lump in her throat, stood up and opened.

Nothing could have prepared her for the person posted before her or for the way her heart traitorously skipped upon laying eyes on him.

A disheveled Klaus Mikaelson hovered inches away from her door step, clothes infinitely more wrinkled than how she'd left him. At closer inspection, from his right hand crimson liquid slowly seeped out, the skin badly broken, knuckles swollen.

As if he'd been in a fight.

"I…" his eyes searched for hers, but Caroline avoided them to the best of her ability, focusing on a coffee stain on the turquoise mat. "I came to pick up the rest of my belongings. Can I come in?"

Her brain screamed to send him flying, that he was dangerous, most likely insane. Meanwhile, her heart yelled to allow him to enter, hear him out like he'd pleaded at the restaurant.

One of the toughest decisions she'd made in her life and Caroline was all too aware that it had the potential to shape her future. Biting her lip, she made believe that she was still weighing her options, when, in fact, she'd already chosen.

Wordlessly, she took a step back and nodded for him to enter.

"Thank you," he whispered while passing her by and then began to gather the few things he had scattered around the room, shoving them in his small duffle bag.

A small flinch filled the silence when Klaus, by mistake, hit his injured hand on an open drawer. Not really bothered by it, the man continued his mission, determined to get it done as quickly as possible.

Before he'd arrived here, he'd been meaning to try and clarify things with Caroline, try to get his own version of events out, but one glance at the blonde had been enough to shut him up.

Broken.

That was the perfect word to describe how the woman looked with her puffy, red eyes, pale skin and matted down hair. The usual sparkle in her orbs had disappeared, replaced by an emptiness he loathed.

Because of him.

This is what he did to those he loved. This was his curse. So he had to stay away.

"What happened?" her words were gravelly, clearly from too much crying, but by the way she was staring at his bleeding hand, it was obvious what she was referring to.

"I got into a bit of a fight."

His response was honest and it had her eyes widening, fear surging to new levels as she contemplated his answer.

"With Stefan?"

Klaus hated how unsure she sounded. As if she was afraid of him. To be fair, she probably was scared of what the creature she'd found out resided within him could do. A valid fear except that he'd never allowed that darkness to overpower his will and he probably never would even if, not feeling anything sometimes seemed like such a better option. Continuing to fight hurt so much, but he pushed on due to the people who'd given their lives for him. He could not throw their sacrifices away.

"Don't worry, he's fine. I didn't kill him if that's what you're asking," he bitterly threw back.

"I…" she wanted to tell him that it hadn't crossed her mind to believe him capable of such an act when, to her stupor, the surgeon recognized that she had indeed doubted the younger Salvatore's health. For just a moment.

But that moment stood for her lack of trust in Klaus Mikaelson.

While she remained there like a crumbling statue, the former soldier finished packing up and was already moving towards the door. Leaving for good, this time.

On one hand, she wanted him gone. Knew that she could never be with a torturer, a murderer. On the other hand, though, every fiber of her being screamed for her to stop him. To listen to whatever he'd meant to say at the restaurant. It had seemed as if he'd wanted to defend himself back there.

So why was he keeping quiet now? Why was he saying goodbye without having fought the final battle? Could it be that Stefan had truly said nothing but the truth?

"Klaus, wait!"

He halted, but did not turn around. The power he'd summoned to abandon Caroline was wavering and if he saw her face, he knew it would be over and that he would never be able to walk away.

She deserved better.

Deserved a man whose conscience was immaculate, a man that did not try to choke her in his sleep, a man who did not have an army led by one of the biggest criminals after him.

Today had been a slap across the face, a wake-up call to remind him to do the right thing: walk away.

The woman watched, hoping that he'd have some explanation to offer, that he'd fight for her like he'd done at the restaurant. He did none of those things, not even deigning her worthy of looking in the eye.

"Take care of yourself," she finally murmured when he remained quiet, feeling her heart finish shattering as he shut the door behind him.

He hadn't even cared enough to bid her farewell, Caroline noted dejected while taking in the hotel room.

Empty.

It looked so much emptier without those small pieces of Klaus Mikaelson scattered across it. Then, on her nightstand, her gaze landed on the familiar scrap of paper.

The drawing.

He'd left it here.

The only evidence confirming what they'd had was real.

Warmth travelled back to her eyes and for the umpteenth time that night, the woman found herself coming apart. It felt like her soul had been splintered and Klaus had taken off with all of the pieces. How could one feel utterly empty but also deeply ruined at the same time?

Another round of heavy hitting across the door announced someone else's presence, but all Caroline could imagine was that Klaus was back.

That he had returned to set the record straight and make his innocence clear, prove that Stefan had been lying. Demonstrate that he was indeed the man she'd fallen in love with and not a distorted, cruel version of him.

All but running for the door, the blonde slammed it open only to have her dreams evaporate when she landed eyes on the small, slender silhouette in front of her. Disappointment washed over her like a tidal wave.

Liz Forbes stood planted inches away from the woman, wide grin on her lips, but Caroline did not even seem to notice for she was too busy pushing past her mother, to check the hallway, continuing to hope against all common sense that Klaus had felt some of what she'd experienced. Hope that a torn Klaus hadn't effectively walked away from her life, but was waiting there, measuring words and trying to find proper ones to set the record straight.

Of course he wasn't there.

"Caroline, what's wrong?" a panicked Liz questioned, checking the empty corridor as well. "Who are you looking for?"

Desperate, teary orbs darted back and forth once more, before resignation sunk in.

"No one, mum," she walked back to the bed. "No one."

He was gone. This time for good.

This departure hurt on so many levels, but most importantly, it hurt because it was a blatant admission of guilt. Everything Stefan had said was true, otherwise Klaus would have stayed and tried to make it right because he cared for her. That much she was sure of. Nobody could have faked all of the emotions plaguing his face as she walked away at the restaurant, nor act that crushed.

However, if he'd really done all of that, there was no world in which Caroline could live with him, sleep in the same bed as him and not be haunted by images of all the wrong he'd wrought upon innocents. To her stupor, Caroline realized that there was nothing more she wanted than for Klaus Mikaelson to genuinely become 'no one' in her life.

With time, perhaps he would fade to a distant flashback. One more regret. Her biggest.

Unconsciously, her steps guided her to the only souvenir Klaus had left her with. The one thing that proved it hadn't all been an exquisite dream which had slowly morphed into a nightmare. It had been real and the heartbreak he'd left her with was even more real.

"Caroline, you're scaring me, what's going on?" Liz risked looking over her daughter's shoulder at the paper she so tightly held. It was an outstanding drawing of Caroline, perfectly capturing the warmth her eyes usually radiated and her welcoming, blissful smile.

Nothing like the shattered being before her.

"It's…" the blonde choked on a barely restrained sob. Words failed her and she couldn't express how she felt. Nothing could describe it. So she collapsed in her mother's open arms, completely letting go and welcoming the comfort Liz offered.

They stayed like that, in the centre of the room, the sketch held tightly to Caroline's chest, close to her heart and, somehow, she felt Klaus closer to her as well even if she knew that would never come to pass again.

After she'd run out of tears, the elder woman gently guided her to bed, heart breaking as well at seeing her daughter so messed up.

"I'm going to grab you a glass of water," Liz declared once a nearly catatonic Caroline settled into the geese-feathered pillows.

Had Caroline been paying more attention to anything but the elegant, neat pencil marks, she would have seen Liz falter slightly as she made her way towards the fridge. She would have seen the woman grab onto the table to steady herself.

But she was a prisoner of her own mind, trapped between flashes of her and Klaus happy by the beach, falling asleep in his arms, their date at Cirque du Soleil and how her treacherous heart believed the story could have gone.

Smash!

The sound immediately snapped her out of her reverie, drawing her back to the present. At first, she could not understand what the source of the noise had been, but once she risked a look to the floor, Caroline found herself wishing to go back to that safe place her brain had conjured for her.

Liz Forbes was lying in the middle of the room, shrouded by an aura of broken glass, eyes glazed over as violent convulsions rocked her slender figure. Immediately the medic in her kicked in, all past grievances forgotten, as she jumped off the bed and knelt at her mother's side.

A seizure.

She'd seen her fair share of them and the woman shuddered at only thinking of possible underlying causes. That would be determined at a later hour. Her mission for now was to prevent further damage.

Hundreds of shards of glass had scattered all over the carpet, some millimeters away from Liz's head and with the furious way the woman's body was shaking, they were an imminent danger. With her bare hands, Caroline pushed them all away, not even sensing pain as some cut deeply through her skin, leaving them a mangled mess.

All that mattered was her mother's wellbeing.

Then, gently, she tried to cushion Liz's head from further impact against the hard flooring, making a protective barrier of her hands between the two, all the while counting the duration of the seizure knowing it was important.

After a minute and 47 seconds, the spasms ceased, her exhausted mother falling into a peaceful slumber. Not wasting another moment, Caroline ran for the phone, barking at the receptionist to send an ambulance as quickly as possible to her room.

Afterwards, the young woman returned to her mother's side, not even noticing how her hands continuously dripped crimson and cradling Liz's head, Caroline started to cry again.

Only this time, her argument with Klaus seamed meager, insignificant. For the first time in her life, Caroline despised being a doctor because she knew how serious what had just transpired was. She could not delude herself with unfounded beliefs that everything was going to be alright. Especially after remembering Liz nearly fainting in Klaus's arms before, a callous diagnosis was starting to inhabit her mind.

With it, fury also grew, Caroline downright seething at herself for not having insisted on a check-up. After all, any illness, no matter how severe, had a better chance at being cured if it was caught early.

In record intervention time, a medical team arrived, immediately focusing on the passed out woman, taking her vitals before lifting her onto a stretcher, the blonde surveying their every move like a hawk, ready to step in if something was not done properly, but everything was immaculate.

As she was following them out, a polite, young nurse offered to take a look at her hands, only to be rudely dismissed by the worried woman who couldn't be bothered to care about her own health. No, all that mattered was that Liz be fine.

Please, God, I'm begging you for this not to be what I think it is. Please, was the phrase she kept repeating over and over as she climbed into the back of the ambulance. All the way to the hospital, Caroline prayed like she never had all of her life.

Prayed for a miracle.

A miracle that seemed less and less likely with every second that Liz spent unconscious.


A/N: Thank you so much to every single person who took the time to leave a review, it meant the world to me! Also, I would like to thank the people who added my story to their follow/favourite list! The fact that you guys are still enjoying it is the only motivation I need to keep trying to squeeze writing it into my hectic schedule, but like I promised you, as long as you'll keep enjoying it, I will not abandon it, although the chapters might take a little long. Med school exams are coming and I have been studying like crazy these last couple of weeks as to not fail.

Now, I hope you liked this chapter even if it was quite sad. Unfortunately, the heartbreak is far from being over for our favourite couple, but as long as they can find a way back together, they will overcome all life still has to throw at them. If you have time, please let me know what you thought of this chapter.