Lost Boy
She hears of Hayley's death from Tyler when he comes into town to visit Matt.
"She died in childbirth." Tyler says, the ghost of a she wolf and a thousand should haves between them. "The baby didn't survive."
They stand in silence for a moment, looking at the bench she had sat at with Klaus so long ago. The same day he'd woo'd her with his hummingbird story and made her think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than met the eye. The same day he'd murdered Tyler's mom by the fountain.
"I'm sorry, Tyler." she says. For everything.
He looks at her; nose sharp, eyes dark, the same cut jaw she'd always loved, "I think we're past that now, Care."
They both know where she will go tonight.
Caroline almost talks herself out of it. Almost. He would be there for her, she knows.
She finds him easily enough when she enters New Orleans' city limits; simply looking for the biggest house in the city. Rebekah answers the door when she knocks, mascara stained on her cheeks.
The blonde doesn't tell her to leave, like she'd expected, simply stands aside, beckons for Caroline to enter.
"I'm sorry, Rebekah." Caroline says softly to the thin girl. She's all apologies and regrets today. Rebekah cracks a bitter smile before she breezes from the hall.
She steps slowly down the hall, follows the scent of charcoal and oil paints to a room with a roaring fire. His back is to her where he sits on the couch.
"Klaus?" She steps into the room, hesitant.
"Why are you here?" Klaus asks without turning around. His words are a slurred jumble, and she smells whiskey in the air. "Don't you have plans, things you'd rather be doing?" Ah, so we're lashing out.
Caroline ignores his jab, comes around the side of the couch to look at his face. The weight of a thousand years has set his mouth into a hard line, eyes glassy and glowing as they rest on the fire in front of them. "I came to say I'm sorry for your loss, and—" she trails off, sees the shattered glass on the floor, the empty liquor bottles lying scattered on every surface. "Oh, Klaus." She finishes, at a complete loss for words. How is she supposed to tell him it's going to be okay?
"I thought maybe, maybe just once... I could do something right. But I was a fool." He bites out, bitter.
She sits beside him on the couch, gingerly takes the bottle from his hand, sets it on the coffee table. "It doesn't have to be in vain. You made something beautiful, something innocent. You're more human than you know."
He looks at her like he sees all of her, scrubs a hand over his stubble, "I don't know what to do." He admits. She's the only one to see him like this, she's sure. A lost boy.
She thinks of Elena, who has buried love more times than she can count. Of Bonnie, bending and breaking to keep her friends safe and close. Of herself, clinging to the last fragments of a human girl.
Do any of them know what to do?
"I wish I had an answer." She murmurs, brings his half empty whiskey bottle to her lips. I wish I could help you.
"You're here," He says, and she hadn't realized she'd said the words aloud. "That's enough."