Author's note: This was written for the Klarowinter Bingo Event. In this human AU, Klaus has a lot of regrets and has decided to stop being an idiot. Apparently, not everyone got the memo...
Prompt: As pure as the driven snow.
Warning: Angst.
"Is it still mine, if I do not want it?"
― Rick Riordan, The House of Hades
It was madness to come here. Klaus knew that even before he saw Caroline. But he'd largely avoided his younger brother ever since he chose Caroline's side, and making an appearance tonight at Kol's charity gala was meant to be an olive branch of sorts. It had been quite the shock to watch from afar how his reckless, hedonistic brother suddenly had settled down with a fearless woman named Bonnie, whose struggles with breast cancer had inspired Kol to establish a charity devoted entirely to finding a cure. Not that Kol wasn't still uniquely Kol — he named his charity Brave Boobies.
Klaus' breath caught as he watched Caroline's face light up while embracing Kol. The cream satin of her fitted evening gown was dotted with crystals, giving her the appearance of being bathed in soft white light. She was radiant. A goddess. She used to be his goddess.
They'd recently celebrated a year together and he'd taken her to the exclusive Abattoir Hotel for a romantic weekend. Klaus had envisioned a decadent, sensual celebration, but he'd noticed Caroline's infectious enthusiasm had waned with each passing day.
On the last day, they'd been enjoying a quiet breakfast out on the terrace when Caroline let out a small sigh. "I have some news."
He felt his pulse begin to race, dread settling in his heart. Was she pregnant?! They'd been so careful and he certainly had no interest in such a thing.
Clearly frustrated that Klaus hadn't responded, she revealed, "I've received an amazing job offer; I mean, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that will change my career trajectory. The World Health Organization has asked me to be their Director of Global Marketing in the DC location."
The DC location. Which was far, far away from New York — where they both lived. She was leaving him — it's just as he'd long suspected; no one ever would love him enough to stay. He fought to keep his tone mild as his asked, "When do you leave?"
Watching Caroline's face fall nearly broke his heart, but he stubbornly kept his face impassive as she sputtered, "What? No! Klaus, that's not...please, can we just talk about this?"
"What's there to talk about? It sounds like the ideal opportunity to further advance your career. Congratulations, love."
Caroline set down her glass with a harsh clink, the orange juice sloshing out on one side, spotting the white tablecloth. "Don't you DARE. Don't you fucking dare act like I'm the only one in this relationship with ambition. You run your family's corporation with an iron fist and it's rare you don't put in 60-hour weeks. But I don't complain because I get it — you're just as driven as I am to achieve and build something bigger than yourself."
With downcast eyes, she toyed with the tines on her fork, asking, "But that's just our work. What about us? We're building memories here and I don't want to give that up — I want us to be able to talk about these things and make decisions together. I've done some research and mapped out the best routes to travel back and forth if we want to do the long-distance thing, or maybe we could work out a kind of timeshare situation where we alternate business quarters living in New York and DC? The important thing is to keep our options open and talk through the best solution."
Her words were the cruelest trick of all — they sparked hope. As though she didn't already have one foot out the door. "Except you've already decided, haven't you? Ever since we've arrived at the hotel, you've become sullen and distracted. You obviously don't want to be here, least of all with me."
Caroline gasped, blue eyes brimming with tears as she shook her head angrily. "Seriously?! You brought me here to this romantic getaway to celebrate our one-year anniversary — there were rose petal trails all around this beautiful suite with an ostentatious heart-shaped Jacuzzi and we've had ridiculously expensive champagne with every meal — I thought you brought me here to propose!" At his startled expression, she chuckled darkly, adding, "And each day it didn't happen made me feel a little sadder."
Klaus blinked, confused and uncomfortable by this unexpected turn in the conversation. Marriage was an obscure, frankly terrifying concept too mired in emotional baggage to ever seriously consider. He seldom encountered couples who weren't made absolutely miserable by this shackle of unrealistic societal expectations. His own parents' bitter, often violent marriage had served as a vivid reminder of the terrible consequences of binding your future and fate to another. "I thought you were fine with what we have," he spoke carefully, realizing with a heavy heart that this conversation was inevitable. He just thought that they'd have more time before they reached this moment.
"What do we have," Caroline asked tiredly. "I've never been into labels, but even after a year I have no idea what we are to each other. We don't live together and I don't even have a key to your place. The one time you asked me to pick up your mail while you were on that business trip, you asked for your key back as soon as you returned!"
Klaus realized he'd wound the fine linen napkin around his fingers so tightly he'd cut off his circulation. He hadn't considered that she'd put such weight upon something as trivial as a key. They were both creatures of habit and covetously guarded their spaces; he'd assumed she was just as uncomfortable at the prospect of breaching that privacy as he was. "I love you." Klaus winced slightly; his declaration had come out as more of a fumbling question than a statement of fact. It wasn't the first time he'd told her, but he tended to use it sparingly, almost as though it burned his lips to speak that sort of truth.
"And I love you," she readily replied, granting him a brief moment of peace where he foolishly pretended that this unpleasant matter had been resolved.
Closing her eyes briefly, she went perfectly still, muscles tensing in her arms and shoulders as though she was preparing to march into battle. When Caroline finally opened her eyes, she fixed him with an intense stare that made him wish he'd ordered an entire pitcher of bloody marys. She slowly rose from the table, pleading with him, "Love has never been our problem, Klaus. I need to know that we're moving toward something. It doesn't have to be marriage, but I need more of a commitment from you." Her gaze hardened, piercing his heart as she swore, "We BOTH deserve more."
Commitment. That single word sent him into a blind panic, and while he wasn't proud of what happened next, in retrospect, he supposed his reaction was inevitable as well. He never just burned a bridge — he leveled the entire city. "Commitment," he barked out with a mocking leer, "and here I thought you weren't some wide-eyed schoolgirl fantasizing about white picket fences." With studied determination, he casually unwound the linen napkin to lightly toss it next to his plate. Arching an eyebrow, he added spitefully, "What we have now is all I'm prepared to give, sweetheart."
"Well, then it's good that we found out now before wasting any more time." As she started to walk away, her shoulders suddenly slumped and her voice broke as she asked tearfully, "You're not even going to try to fight for us?"
Klaus could hear every insult his parents ever hurled at him and he knew he couldn't afford to be weak. Leave her before she leaves you — this always was doomed to fail. He studied her with forced indifference, watching the fire he'd always loved about her suddenly die.
Caroline's voice was brittle as she declared, "Fine. I'm done."
As the door to their suite slammed with enough force to shatter the crystal vases filled with roses, Klaus told himself this was for the best — it would hurt less in the long run.
Of course, he was wrong.
And now six months later, Klaus endured the worst kind of torture at this stuffy charity gala — having her so close, but knowing his presence wouldn't be welcome. He'd gone through the motions of nearly purchasing a plane ticket to DC every other day since Caroline had left. He'd scroll through the available flights, taking great care in selecting his seat, and then the ticket would sit unpurchased in his cart like a festering wound.
Klaus straightened his bowtie, fingers trembling slightly as he considered downing another scotch before he dared to speak to Caroline. He loved her desperately and was willing to do whatever it took to win back her trust. He ventured another glance her way, gray eyes narrowing when he noticed a dark-haired man possessively snake his arm about her waist while they both talked animatedly with Kol.
Time to get that bloody drink.
The Macallan was ash on his tongue and Klaus scowled, impatiently gesturing for the nervous bartender to show him the label once more. Bollocks. It seemed positively criminal that single-malt scotch aged for nearly two decades in a sherry-seasoned oak cask would taste like the dregs of a pickle jar.
"At $3,000 a bottle, I'd make that face too," Kol mocked, settling into the barstool beside him.
Klaus snorted, "That's what happens when you donate your trust fund to establishing a charity." Raising an eyebrow, he added, "You caused quite the uproar among the family; I was especially proud of how Elijah spilled tea all over his first edition of Dickens when he heard the news." One of the most predictable aspects of Kol's personality was that he'd prattle on and on to avoid lengthy silences. Today, Klaus desperately needed him to inadvertently provide information on Caroline and her...random person who'd accompanied her tonight. Instead, his brother's irritating grin grew wider as he sat there in cheeky silence.
It was no good. His brother would revel gleefully in his pain — but Klaus had to know. "Err — how is...everyone getting on these days?"
"Let's see...Rebekah recently returned from the family's vineyard in Setúbal and now speaks with a hilarious affected accent." At Klaus' unimpressed expression, Kol added, "Elijah continues to bore us all with his hypocritical lectures of proper behavior despite how he carries on with his married trollop of an assistant."
Klaus raised the glass to his lips, sneaking another glance at Caroline who was dancing with her...person. The band had struck up a lively number reminiscent of the roaring '20s and she was giggling at her...person's foolish attempts at the Charleston. He realized Kol was watching him with a calculated gaze, and he muttered, "And...the others? Are they well?"
Still wearing a moronic grin, his brother replied lightly, "Oh, you mean Finn? Well, he seldom ventures off the Cornwall estate. Bit of a bore, really, but coastal living does seem to agree with that vicious harpy he calls his wife."
The bitter silence stretched between them, and Klaus finally growled, "Damn it, Kol, stop arsing about. You know damn well what I'm asking."
"Of course I do. You want to know all about Caroline. Because your immense ego has convinced you that somehow you deserve to know about her."
Klaus reared back as though Kol had struck him. It had been ages since he'd heard that level of malice in his tone. He resisted the well-worn urge to lash out, and instead recalled why he was there. For Caroline. "This...person she's brought tonight — he appears to be as rented as that tragic tuxedo."
Brown eyes glittering, Kol answered casually, "Oh, you must mean Enzo. Yes, they've grown quite close."
Enzo. 'Enzo' sounded like the name of a sleazy, aging cabana boy looking to scam wealthy geriatrics. How could Caroline waste her time like this?
"They met at her office in DC. He's the regional director at the World Health Organization, but before that Enzo was a trauma surgeon in Haiti for Doctors Without Borders."
Bloody hell. Klaus took another drink to soften the cruel edge of his brother's carefully calculated mirth. The band had abandoned its up-tempo beat in exchange for a low, soft melody that rang bittersweet in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied how this...Enzo possessively clutched at Caroline, drawing her close (too close) to remain comfortably within the bounds of propriety while they slow-danced. "Then he's clearly a dull workaholic who doesn't make time for her," Klaus snidely replied. "Caroline deserves better."
Kol considered him, something almost like pity flashing in his hard gaze before he returned to his cutting remarks. "Caroline gets to decide what she deserves." Slightly spinning around in his barstool to face the dancing couple, he lifted his glass almost in a salute as he added, "If you're asking about Enzo's intentions, I promise they're as pure as the driven snow."
Something roared in Klaus' chest as he watched this...Enzo place a featherlight kiss to Caroline's forehead and then gently pull her toward the balcony. Enough. Klaus had missed Caroline every day since she left. Since he'd driven her away. He shot out of his barstool as though an electric current had traveled up his spine, abandoning Kol without another word. He was getting Caroline back.
He marched toward the balcony, single-minded in his pursuit. He knew it would take time for them to get back what they'd lost, but Klaus refused to believe that Caroline wouldn't want to try once he told her everything he'd been too cowardly to say before. He could change. He was ready to be the man she deserved. He cursed the stars for softly illuminating the couple as they stood close (too close), framed by marble columns draped in tasteful orchid garlands in this unbearably romantic tableau.
Klaus crossed the threshold just as this...Enzo dropped to one knee, holding aloft a black velvet box as though it was an offering to his goddess. To Klaus' goddess.
