Author's note: There's a serial killer on the loose and Detective Klaus Mikaelson goes undercover at a luxury rehab to discover the victims' connection. Can he catch the killer before the sassy blonde director is next?
Warning: Some angst.
"It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason."
― Edgar Allan Poe
Was today the day he'd catch the killer? Klaus rolled out of bed with a groan, cursing when he saw the time. He'd overslept again and was fairly certain that a vexing blonde director would be irate if he was late again. He raced around his apartment, finding it difficult to focus as his mind kept conjuring horrific images of the restless dreams he'd had the night before. It was no wonder he was having nightmares, though...
After all, it takes a special kind of monster to drain bodies and rip out hearts. He'd seen some gruesome acts during his time as a detective, but the serial killer he'd been tracking over the past few months was unlike anything he'd ever seen and had him questioning whether humanity was even worth saving if this is what was left. It was a peculiar case, one he suspected would be studied and referenced by criminologists for years to come. The killer had started off with just draining the bodies through twin holes at the neck (law enforcement officials argued over the specific instruments used), but lately they'd escalated to include heart removal — possibly as a cult ritual?
So far, the only connection the male victims had was that they were patients at Expressions, a posh rehab treatment facility that seemingly catered to wealthy, often famous clientele. That was how Klaus found himself working undercover as an art therapist, hoping to stop the serial killer before they could strike again.
It was supposed to be ambiguous lines. But from the moment Klaus decided to take part in the 'draw your feelings' exercise he'd designed for class, the lines came together of their own volition, the familiar curve of a cheek and enigmatic smile taking shape. Damn it. He needed to concentrate. But rather than focus on his job, he kept getting distracted by Caroline, the inconveniently gorgeous blonde director who'd hired him. Emitting a low growl of frustration, he quickly stood up to circle the students once more so he didn't have to think about the other, more urgent reason why he was there. "The line assignment is about what you feel — not necessarily what you see."
"And I see an incredibly talented group," Caroline's musical voice floated into the sunlit classroom, catching him by surprise as he fought to keep his expression neutral. What was it about her? He swore he could detect her signature fragrance of vanilla and honey everywhere he went in the facility, and it prickled his skin in the most pleasantly distracting manner.
She was lovely to behold, but there was something — more. She moved with confidence, a quiet grace that commanded the attention of everyone in the room. She was a stunning creature. He'd never had such a difficult time staying focused while undercover, and he'd certainly never been tempted to behave unprofessionally — until now. Sometimes he'd catch her lingering gaze, and he swore she felt the same electricity between them. Unfortunately, now wasn't the time for romance, no matter how much he longed to indulge his curiosity.
Besides, once he discovered the killer's identity, he'd have to reveal who he really was and something told him Caroline who be less than pleased with his deceit. She seemed like the type to hold a grudge. He dismissed the patients to move onto their various group therapy sessions, his tone teasing as he asked, "Caroline, what a pleasant surprise. Are you here to unleash your inner feelings through art?"
She grinned, her voice oddly rueful as she replied, "My inner everything gets unleashed a bit more than I'd like these days." She sat down on the plush teal couch in the corner, the soft rustle of her skirt hem swished a tantalizing bit above her knees, making his teeth clench as he did his best not to stare at quite possibly the most perfect pair of legs in all of creation.
"Is something on your mind," Klaus asked, noting the crease in her brow that appeared whenever she wanted to talk about something serious.
Caroline bit her lip, seemingly thinking hard about something. "I just...wanted to make sure you were settling in okay...at the facility, I mean." She handed him one of the tall ceramic mugs she was carrying and explained, "On today's menu is a special dark roast Sumatran blend with cardamom and Aleppo pepper."
He eagerly took a sip, enjoying the delicious, heady warmth. Expressions boasted fine dining for its guests and staff, and lately Caroline had been stopping by for coffee. He tried not read too much into the fact that she didn't seem to do this with anyone else on her staff. It certainly wasn't helping his inconvenient crush. "Delicious," he murmured, immediately feeling more energized as he hurriedly downed the rest.
"So, I know you've been curious about some of our previous patients, and I wanted to see if you had any other questions for me."
Damn. He hadn't realized he'd been that obvious during their discussions. "I'm just curious about the tragedies that took place. It was just so shocking and in stark contrast to the sterling reputation this place has cultivated — your holistic rehab has the highest success rate in the country." Prior to beginning his undercover assignment, Klaus had thoroughly researched the facility, and was impressed by its stats. Former patients willing to provide testimonials once had bodies so thoroughly riddled by addiction that it was assumed they'd never be productive members of society again, but after they completed treatment, it was almost as though they'd never had a substance abuse problem. Numerous clinics had attempted to duplicate their program, but somehow always fell short. Caroline was special.
"The tragedies," she nervously asked, turning the ring on her finger, the flecks of blue in the purple stone bringing out her eyes.
"Yes, I must admit I follow the news and heard about the poor chaps who were patients here. That must have been difficult for you; did you know them well?"
She shrugged her shoulders, and he suddenly was struck with the image of tracing the dip along her collarbone with his tongue, inhaling her creamy skin as she let out a breathy sigh. What the bloody hell kind of daydream was that?
Caroline sighed, her gaze clouded with unpleasant memories. "Well enough that our staff gave them nicknames. There was Matty Blue Blue, who used that baby face of his to hide some violent tendencies. And Entitled Assface Car Guy, who thought his stupid racecar movie franchise gave him blanket consent. Oh, and my favorite was Brother-Banger, the one whose creepy codependent brother kept trying to smuggle him drugs and when we banned his brother's visits, he tried to stab me with a fork."
Klaus felt his blood boil at the thought of these men threatening Caroline. Damn it. Focus. It was odd to just now hear about the victims' infractions at the facility. Why didn't Caroline file reports with the police? It raised some interesting questions — and possibly more suspects. "You didn't go to the police? Was it to avoid bad press for your clinic?"
An angry flush colored her cheeks and she snarled, "I didn't go to the police because I was protecting my people and the patients! Law enforcement and the media would do far more harm than good in such a delicate environment!" She stood up, her petite frame suddenly filling the room in her fury as she stormed away, leaving Klaus in a bemused, if somewhat awkwardly aroused state as he admired the ferocious blonde demon. She was glorious.
Needing to clear his head, he wandered toward one of the nature trails he'd grown to think of as his own, breathing in the pine trees that grew so thick they almost blocked out the sky in places. In the distance, he could just make out the rustic patient cabins that dotted the horizon. Rustic. Bollocks — each patient resided in a private cabin complete with stone fireplaces and Jacuzzis. Caroline definitely spared no expense when it came to her patients. Caroline. With a groan of frustration, he realized he should figure out a way to apologize to her. He wondered what kind of flowers she liked...
"Shouldn't you be teaching whiny addicts how to finger paint or something?"
He inwardly groaned at the familiar rude voice that seemed to have haunted his steps ever since he began his assignment there. He turned to face Katherine Pierce, or 'Kat' as Caroline affectionately called her. "My morning patient group just finished their art therapy and are off to sports therapy."
"Boxing, football, rock climbing — all activities designed to coddle the fragile male ego into feeling better about themselves when they've done absolutely nothing to earn it."
He resisted the urge to argue with her — she always was hostile toward men and seemed especially irritated that Caroline had hired him. As Caroline's personal assistant, she bizarrely seemed to think that all staff decisions should be discussed with her first. "Right. So, I'm just taking a quick walk before my afternoon group's session..." he trailed off, awkwardly rubbing his neck.
Her brown eyes followed his movement, narrowing angrily as she focused on the stone around his neck. "Caroline gave you that. It's very personal to her. She's awesome and you'd better respect her." Out of habit, he lightly touched the purple stone, still recalling with boyish glee when Caroline gave him the necklace, telling him that she felt like they shared a connection and that it would mean a lot to her if he wore it. Feverish kisses, a long, slow slide of lips and tongues across wide expanses of flesh.
What the hell was that? He quickly pulled himself out of his fantasy with a twinge of regret, wondering if Caroline would be willing to explore whatever this was between them once he caught the killer and finally could reveal the truth about who he was.
He told Katherine solemnly, "I've no interest in hurting Caroline. I know how special she is."
Katherine gave him a final angry glare as she warned, "That's what they all say. Just know I'm watching you. Screw things up with her and you'll regret it."
He studied her quietly as she disappeared down the trail, considering his options. He'd had his department perform a rudimentary background check on the entire staff at Expressions when he first started his assignment and nothing unusual had turned up, but Katherine's increasingly odd behavior warranted a closer look.
Terrified screams. Vacant stares. Klaus jolted awake, cursing his carelessness at staring at the victims' files until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. The crime scenes were horrifically gruesome — and his nightmares seemed to get worse each time he studied the evidence. His phone rang and he immediately answered when he saw it was Enzo, his new handler. He'd done his best to tamp down his irritation at being assigned a new handler in the middle of his undercover operation, but there was something about the too-quiet man that set his teeth on edge. He had secrets.
The few times they'd met in person, he hadn't cared for the way Enzo had looked at him with pity in his eyes, as though he'd already written off Klaus' assignment as a failure. But Klaus was determined to prove him wrong — it was only a matter of time before he found the killer. The answers were in front of him; he just needed to follow the evidence.
"How you holding up, mate? That whirling dervish of blonde micromanagement still got your knickers in a bunch?"
Klaus growled, not liking how Enzo's casual teasing reminded him of Caroline's earlier annoyance with him. He still wasn't sure how to fix things between them. "Everything's fine. I've finished accessing the rest of the patient files and have identified possible targets the killer may go after. You'll want to add some plainclothes to keep watch on them — there's only so much I can do without raising suspicion and Caroline's very protective of her patients and staff."
"You have no idea," Enzo muttered under his breath.
His skin prickled unpleasantly at his handler's comment, not liking the implication that Enzo knew Caroline better than he. Caroline was his. Or, at least she could be, some day, he amended, if he could ever get this case in order and finally stop the killer. "What do you have for me," he barked out, not caring that his tone was more hostile than the situation warranted.
"You had me pull everything I could find on Caroline's clingy little assistant. It wasn't much. And by that, I mean what you have now is all we've got on her. According to every database in this country, Katherine Pierce didn't exist two years ago." Enzo paused, his tone a bit more careful as he asked, "What do you want to do?"
"I'll handle it," Klaus swore, disconnecting the call as his heart raced. Caroline's assistant didn't exist. Innocent people didn't hide their identity. Could she be the killer? She had access to the victims and her hostility against men was obvious. Given the depth of violence against the victims, it was clear that the killer had been in a blind rage when they attacked. Caroline had revealed the victims had threatened her or the other staff in some manner, and Katherine was incredibly loyal to Caroline. If she felt that Caroline was in danger, it was possible she could act out, violently if necessary.
He quickly dialed Caroline's number, heart racing as he tried to figure out what he could say without ruining his cover. Bollocks. Caroline's safety was worth more than his career. When she didn't answer, he checked the time, recalling that this was the day she stayed late at the facility to review staffing schedules and patient progress charts. Hastily throwing on clothes, he drove back there, still unsure of what he would tell her.
Breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that Katherine's car wasn't in the parking lot, he used his staff badge to access the main office. His breath caught in his throat when he looked through the tall glass windows and saw familiar blonde curls glowing in the soft lamplight. She was the loveliest creature.
Not bothering to glance up from her desk, she waved him inside, her tone mild as she said, "I assumed your stubbornness would win and it would be tomorrow before I received an apology."
"That's not...I mean, yes, of course, I didn't mean to imply..." he stumbled over his words, irritated that she somehow always made him feel like a fumbling schoolboy nursing his first crush.
Caroline's blue eyes went wide with concern as she studied him. "Klaus, what's wrong?"
"I've learned something and it's difficult to explain to you without revealing certain truths."
She nodded slowly, her mouth opening and closing as though she was carefully weighing each word. "Alright. Is it something that could wait until tomorrow? Kat's asked me to stop by her place tonight. She's having a tough time and needs a friend."
"No! Don't go," he pleaded, vehemently adding, "Kat may not be safe for you."
Caroline shrewdly said, "Because you've found something out about her from your other job."
He inwardly groaned at his stupidity — how could he have underestimated her? Her cleverness had been one of the first things that had captured his interest. "You know about me," he awkwardly asked, wondering what happened now.
"More than I'd like sometimes," she said in a tone of resignation, abruptly adding, "So, where am I safe?"
Scarcely believing his good fortune that Caroline wasn't furious that he'd lied about being an art therapist, he blurted out, "With me."
Nails nervously traced over the abstract pattern of the throw pillow that Caroline clutched in her lap. She sat primly on his couch, body coiled so tightly that the slightest noise might make her shatter. He had an impossible flash of her sprawled across the cushions, blonde curls in passionate disarray wearing nothing but his favorite navy Henley. Bloody hell, get it together, mate!
"Caroline, it brings me no pleasure to tell you that I've been working undercover at your facility, investigating the murders. I've just uncovered information about Kat that leads me to believe she could be the killer." While her blank stare alarmed him, he pressed on, needing her to understand. "She's living under an assumed identity. Records for Katherine Pierce only go back two years — if she's willing to lie about that, there's no telling what else she's lied about. Given her odd behavior, obvious vendetta against men, and access to the victims, we'd be foolish not to consider her a viable suspect."
She appeared to be lost in thought, but before he could offer her words of comfort, she nodded to herself, her voice a bit hollow as she told him, "Kat's not the killer. She's a harmless human who's been hiding from an abusive boyfriend. I'm the one who helped her set up a false identity — it's why she's so loyal."
"Sweetheart, I respect that you want to protect your friend, but that doesn't mean—"
"Klaus, I know who the killer is," she interrupted, the pillow tumbling to the floor as she stood up. "It's...complicated." Not bothering to wait for an answer, she walked past him, her stride full of purpose. Odd. She opened a narrow closet, reaching inside to access the upright freezer. Caroline had been in his home before.
It was when she pulled out several plastic bags full of human hearts that he felt his knees buckle. Gripping the edge of his dining room table for support, he stared disbelievingly at the hearts. Three of them. Matt Donovon, Tyler Lockwood, and Stefan Salvatore.
"So, here's the thing," she began, biting her lip as she searched his face, clearly trying to assess his reaction. "Technically, there's two serial killers, I guess. Um, with the first few bodies, I may have gotten a bit sloppy with my meals — but they totally had it coming!"
The way she scrunched up her nose was adorable, he thought fuzzily, pleased by the brief distraction from his chaotic thoughts of why the victims' missing hearts were in his possession.
Her voice had grown high-pitched as she nervously continued, "Anyway, you went undercover to start investigating those murders and that's when we met. The first time, I mean."
"Meals?" There was a dull roar in his ears, and that was the only coherent question he could form at the moment.
Caroline briefly closed her eyes in concentration, a delicate web of black veins crawling across her cheeks as a pair of curved fangs unsheathed from her lips. "So...there's that." At his gobsmacked expression, she revealed, "We started spending time together and I really liked you, and when you figured out what I was, you asked me to turn you."
There was a deep-rooted ache in his chest as images suddenly seared into his brain. Sweet, sweet blood. A clash of fangs as they collided into each other, all passionate fury and fire. "Caroline, love," he gasped, his senses awakened as he felt the hum of his power and a prick of fangs against his lips. How could he have forgotten what he was? "But it went wrong, didn't it?"
"Yes." Her voice was little more than a choked cry. "I was careless and didn't think...somewhere in your recent lineage are wolves. As an untriggered werewolf, it's a miracle you even survived the transition to vampire. But...then it went bad. You started having blackouts and memory loss and when Matt, Tyler and Stefan threatened me, your wolf reacted and killed them." She helplessly gestured toward the frozen hearts. "During one of the times we've had this conversation, you told me your wolf demands you keep the trophies nearby."
All of the fantasies he'd been having about Caroline had been actual memories? He raised a trembling hand to her blonde curls, savoring the silky feel as the strands tangled in his fingers. How could he have forgotten her? There was no mistaking the heat in her gaze and the way the tip of her tongue lightly touched her lips was his undoing.
He was on her in an instant, breaking away from their passionate embrace to trail fierce kisses down her throat until she whimpered. That he remembered. The helpless little noises she made and his answering possessive growls.
Unfortunately, his brain caught up to Caroline's words and he couldn't just ignore what she'd revealed. During one of the times we've had this conversation. "Wait — all of this has happened before? This isn't the first time you've told me everything?"
Her lips lightly brushed against his, voice filled with regret as she confessed, "This is the fourth time we've done this now. There's always slight variations though — once you thought Enzo was the killer; other times you suspected a member of my staff. So far, I haven't been able to pinpoint when your memories will bleed through and we start all over again."
She sniffed, tears welling up in her eyes as she begged, "Klaus, this is all my fault and I'm so sorry I did this to you. Please, please forgive me. I swear I'm working on it — my best friend is part of a powerful bloodline of witches who are looking into how to fix this mess. And in the meantime, I'm doing everything I can to look after you during the times that you don't know what you are — I gave you your daylight amulet so you can walk in the sun and I make sure to slip blood into your coffee and other meals you have at Expressions to stave off the hunger. Also, I placed Enzo in your department to help you out whenever I can't."
"Sweetheart," he gasped, shocked by the lengths she'd gone to save him from himself. "You've done all of that for me? I don't know what to say." He traced the outline of her cheek with his thumb, feeling a tear as it rolled down her skin. "In case I don't remember this moment — thank you. You have my gratitude, my heart, my everything."
Caroline smiled through her tears, kissing him over and over as she murmured against his lips, "Just keep fighting, Klaus. We'll find a way through this."
Was today the day he'd catch the killer? Klaus rolled out of bed with a groan, cursing when he saw the time. He'd overslept again and was fairly certain that a vexing blonde director would be irate if he was late again. He raced around his apartment, finding it difficult to focus as his mind kept conjuring horrific images of the restless dreams he'd had the night before. It was no wonder he was having nightmares, though...
