After a long time of losing the inspiration to continue this story, I'm back! Thank you to my fellow Klamille shipper, fellow fanfic writer, my bae, Kay (geektastic08), for not losing hope and guilt-tripping me like no other into continuing this.

Thanks to all of you for being patient as hell, for reviewing, following, favoriting. Thank you. I knew it was months ago since my last update, but I have not forgotten the story and am fully intending to finish it. Just be very patient with me as I am a slow writer due to a ton of things I need to do and work on, but I will eventually get there.. Here is the latest installment, which I've entitled "Revelry" since there's a party (of course!), and to keep in line with the vague-ass nouns I've been using as my chapter titles because I am completely terrible with titles.

I hope you guys like it.

Chapter Eight: Revelry

Marcel Gerard stood on the rooftop of the abandoned building, looking up at the sky, recalling a certain night two hundred years ago he'd also killed time like this, gazing at the stars. Except the stars that were visible two hundred years ago could no longer be seen with New Orleans' light pollution. One of the "perks" of living in the city. As much as Marcel loved the hustle and bustle of downtown, there were times he longed for the quiet days of the past, when things were much simpler, and one could look up at the night sky to spot constellations without difficulty.

Out of nowhere, a voice broke him out of his reverie, causing him to tear his eyes away from the dark sky and look at the lone figure walking towards him from the ledge of the rooftop.

"Marcellus," the figure had called.

"About time you noticed me," he grinned easily. "I was feeling mighty lonely coming all the way up here, only to be ignored."

"I hope you know that pouting doesn't suit you," Klaus drawled, clasping him on the shoulder and looking him square in the eye. "But then again, Marcellus, you always were a needy little thing weren't you?"

"Me? Needy?" he asked incredulously, and then shrugged. "Must be my paranoia of being left combined with never-ending daddy issues." He paused and then thumped his hand on his chest, "Oh wait, my bad! That's actually you!"

Klaus dropped his hand from his shoulder and gave him an unamused look, as if dignifying him with a response would have been a little too much. That, or Marcel's burn cut him too deep and he had no immediate response. He preferred to think it was the latter.

Earlier last week, the original had called upon him for help, wanting a close eye kept on Camille O'Connell's new friend in town, Niall MacAllister. Since doing his sire favors weren't a matter of choice for Marcel, he'd reluctantly said, "I'll get some of my guys to trail him."

Instead of the acquiescence he'd expected, Klaus insisted that Marcel himself trail him, as he didn't want to leave the task to "one of your incompetent lackeys. No offense, mate." Marcel had then eyed him with barely concealed annoyance, voicing out that if he was going to be such a little priss about who trailed whom, why couldn't he just do this himself? As Marcel would find out later on, Klaus' reason was, "If I glimpse that bastard's cocky face once more, I might just kill him on the spot."

Marcel, with utmost self control, refrained from pointing out that Klaus was A). also a bastard, and B). had one of the cockiest faces he knew, random people just automatically wanted to punch it.

However, when angry words like that left his sire's lips, these were to be heeded with care as he knew from experience they were no idle threats. Many had ended up with necks broken from not taking his theatrics with more seriousness.

Of course, now that Klaus wanted to kill Camille's friend, Marcel deduced this really wouldn't bode well for his relationship with the human bartender. Anybody with half a brain cell could clearly see that Klaus valued such a relationship. Whatever the hell it was they had going on. Marcel didn't really know, and he didn't really want to know. As far as he was concerned, the less he mentioned Cami to Klaus' face, the better. The less he reminded Klaus that he and Cami used to be close, well, the better. After all, he already was currently in a relationship with the guy's sister, with his very begrudging permission. To also constantly remind Klaus of his previous connection with Cami would be equivalent to having a death wish, and Marcel hadn't lived to this age to be that stupid.

So in accordance with Klaus' wishes, Marcel himself had reluctantly stalked the human male. From afar, he'd watched Niall take vervain tablets each morning as he woke up, watched him strap a gun at his back as soon as his feet hit the floor. Watched the man put a wooden stake inside his jacket pocket each time he went outside of his house.

Marcel trailed him the moment he left the house to get a drink, the moment he left to go visit Cami. Marcel had even listened in to his conversations on the phone, not wanting to miss anything. Thanks to his supernatural hearing, he was able to position himself to hear everything, even the goddamn man's getting up in the middle of the night to take a leak.

As he gritted his teeth on the second night of stalking, he thought of the grotesque ways he wanted to kill Klaus for asking him to do this. And when Marcel was about to go berserk on the third day, he'd called on Josh to relieve him. Screw Klaus and his stupid ass requests. He had better things to do. But before he left to take a much needed rest, he made sure that Josh was on this guy like a leech.

At the end of the week, after a miserable, sleep-deprived, and starving Josh had reported back to Marcel of everything he'd seen and heard, Marcel nodded and gave him a pat in the back, as well as the next week off for a job well done.

And like the damned sidekick in a bad espionage film, Marcel Gerard had then set foot towards the Mikaelson compound. He was ready to unload all the information they've gathered and be done with it. He was ready to be praised for a job well done. Ready to be released from all the obligations to his sire. It was probably too much to hope for the last two things, for if there ever was an ungrateful bastard, it certainly was Niklaus Mikaelson.

Instead of welcoming him excitedly when he got there, however, Klaus was nowhere to be found.

Elijah, impeccably dressed as usual, had called out to him from the top of the steps, announcing that his brother wasn't around and wouldn't be back until after some hours. But if Marcel were to go and search for him at the rooftop of the old abandoned building by West Esplanade and 9th, he would most likely find him "lurking in the shadows, gazing like a besotted mooncalf at a certain woman."

Sure enough, when Marcel arrived at the rooftop of the exact building, a dark figure silhouetted by the lights of the surrounding buildings indeed had his toes right by the very ledge of the rooftop, staring intently at one of the lit windows of the apartment across. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flutter of movement from the apartment, revealing the blonde girl stepping into the small expanse of her kitchen. The huge window with its open blinds gave Klaus an excellent view from the rooftop. He heard the subtle change in his sire's breath, felt that almost imperceptible movement as he leaned slightly closer to get a better view.

Predictable. Marcel almost grinned.

Almost. He didn't want to die of a werewolf bite tonight.

From the bits and pieces he'd gathered from Rebekah while she spoke of them, he and Cami apparently had a falling out, causing her to move out of the compound. He didn't blame her one bit. Humans were not meant to know about their world. Though she was Kieran's niece, he thought she would be better off not knowing New Orleans housed the most dangerous creatures in existence. It felt wrong for her to have her rose-colored glasses stripped away and be confronted with the reality that she was living with supernaturals who preyed on people like her.

It was Klaus' decision, in the end, to respect her wishes and not compel her to forget anything. That same decision had now put her in mortal danger. It was rare for Klaus to actually consider anyone else's decision, especially if he didn't agree with it, but then again, Marcel would never understand what was going through his head when it came to dealing with Cami.

He gave Klaus a momentary sideways glance, only to stop short at the unmistakable look of hunger he saw in there.

Screw that, he knew exactly what Klaus was thinking when it came to the human girl.

Without making a sound, he let Klaus take his time in watching Camille. He, on the other hand, looked up at the night sky, thinking about things from the past. Thinking of Rebekah. The wind had now picked up its pace, blowing even harder at this height. Out of habit, he pulled his collar up.

After what seemed like an eternity, Klaus had finally took notice of him, and with their greetings of ribbing each other over and done with, Marcel glanced over at Cami's apartment window. "I'm not used to seeing you skulking around after women. Has this always been your style or is it a new thing?"

Of course, Klaus didn't rise to that bait and just stared off in the same direction. Cami was now washing dishes barefoot in her kitchen, bobbing her head to music they couldn't hear.

"Why don't you just let her know you're here, Klaus?"

"She will not want to see me."

"What the hell did you do now?"

Klaus shot him an irritated look. "Why must you assume it was something I did? Perhaps this one time, I wasn't the cause?"

Marcel leveled him with a hard gaze. "Right."

The hybrid stared him down, refusing to budge and admit whatever the hell he did to make the human girl take drastic actions of moving out and avoiding him like the plague that he was.

"Anyway, bullshit aside, did you want to hear my findings or not? I've got things to do."

"How crass and impatient you've become over the past century, Marcellus."

"I'm cranky from this whole cloak-and-dagger-crap-operation you foisted off on me." Klaus looked like he was about to say something in response but decided against it, and let Marcel finish what he was about to say.

"So this guy… interesting one. He has a small arsenal of silver bullets and actual bullets. He owns at least ten wooden stakes, basing from what I've seen. The man never leaves the house without carrying weaponry with him. Takes vervain every morning and carries enough wolfsbane to cause enough damage to a wolf pack. I've heard Kieran's name mentioned a bunch of times in his conversation with his parents so he knows exactly how the whole supernatural thing goes."

Klaus smirked. "Well, I'm flattered. I take it he's now more prepared than the last time I paid him him a visit. As he should be."

Marcel ignored him and went on, "He only talks to four people. Five if you count the bartender at the bar near his place. Folks in Ireland, his priest, and as you already know, I'm sure…"

"Camille…" Klaus muttered.

"Yup. First off, he knows you're bad news and has been strongly urging her not to see you, or any of the Mikaelsons for that matter, ever again."

"Shocker."

"Secondly, he's been seeing her a lot. Calling her, texting her as well, I assume, given the countless number of times I heard the tapping on his smartphone… and just in general becoming a very strong presence in her life."

"And does she welcome his… attentions?"

"Hell if I know. You asked me to tail him, not her." Klaus frowned at him, as if displeased with his lack of knowledge of whatever intimacies Cami and her friend had. "What I do know is that they're childhood friends, explaining that connection with Kieran, and he's looked after her and her twin for a long time."

He mulled on that one for a bit before asking Marcel further. "Is he planning to stay?"

"I assume he is here for the long run. In fact, the mayor, who is friends with his parents, has insisted that he attend the gala this coming week."

Klaus' eyebrows raised in question. "What gala?"

"Seriously?"

Marcel got a dirty look in response. "I'm surprised you don't know. The official name is 'Sons and Daughters of New Orleans Gala'. It's a fundraiser for the city that happens every five years. Big event with all the locals who's who, and predictably, the wealthy make huge donations to whichever fundraiser the city's focused on. Although the one this year seems to be more of a campaign for the current mayor to run again, if I'm going by talk of the town."

"You have an invite," Klaus stated, an accusing look beginning to form in his eye.

"Of course. It's been here for fifty years now, and I've never missed one."

"Why wasn't I informed of this?"

Marcel nearly rolled his eyes at the arrogant tone. He always bristled at that tone. It was the tone that he and Elijah liked to use when they wanted to remind Marcel who was above, and who was beneath in their little mental hierarchy of vampires. "To be fair, you Mikaelsons just moved here and it isn't exactly my duty to be ticking off lists of parties you should be attending like a goddamn social planner. So don't take it too personally. I'm sure you'll find a way to entertain yourself."

Klaus gave him a peeved expression and opted to turn away from him to face the window once more.

Cami had already finished her chores and was now stretching out the kinks in her body to, Marcel surmised, Klaus Mikaelson's delight. He wanted to call Cami and tell her to close her blinds because there were some sick, thirsty perverts in the building across hers, but he was pretty sure Klaus would somehow find out that it was him. He doubted Klaus missed anything. Very much the same way those eagle-like eyes were now missing nothing as they took in Cami's gracefully toned curves as she stretched, down to the little wisps of hair coming loose from her ponytail.

If Marcel ever had a doubt of how much the human girl meant to his sire, witnessing the way Klaus Mikaelson studied Camille O'Connell had certainly blown it all out of the water. It was pure undiluted longing, and to see it firsthand made him feel as if were intruding on something private.

Which reminded him…

"Oh yeah, almost forgot to tell you," he started, causing Klaus to break his intense gaze and look back at him. "She's going to be at the fundraiser too."

A tiny smile appeared at the corner of Klaus' mouth. "She got an invite from the mayor? What a surprise."

"Oh, she got an invite alright."

The original's smile froze on his face.

"As Niall MacAllister's date."

The smile dropped visibly as Marcel's statement set in, and the pregnant pause that came in between made Marcel's instincts go on alert. He noted the sudden clench of his jaw, the flatlining of the lips, the darkening of his eyes. All signs pointed to the fact that now was a very, very good time to hightail it out of here and head home.

Before Klaus could recover to question him and possibly lash out, Marcel vamp-sped from the rooftop back to his place across the river.

There is no reason to shoot the messenger, Klaus. No reason at all.

But then again, he thought, as he finally put some distance between the two of them, when did Niklaus Mikaelson ever listen to reason.

…..

Rebekah Mikaelson was not happy with Marcel Gerard. She was not happy with him at all. The bloody oaf hadn't even bothered to show his face for two weeks, and when he finally managed to come by the compound last night, he was asking for Nik! Not her, the supposed love of his life, but Nik! What was she, exactly, chopped liver? Must she beg for his company now, when hundreds of men would kill for her attention?

Really, Marcel, making a girl work…

Perhaps she was being a tad dramatic about the situation, considering she and Marcel had an ongoing love affair spanning centuries. What was a mere two weeks after all, compared to such a long and complicated history between the two of them? Really, she wouldn't even be upset if he would just call and ask her to go to that damned gala with him.

Frankly, it's not like she wanted to attend the gala that badly. She just wanted to stop hearing from everybody else in the city how it was going to be a spectacularly lavish event, and why wasn't Rebekah more excited over it, and oh, has she picked her dress yet? She wanted to stop the questions from Marcel's men on whether they were going to match their outfits and how ever did Marcel had ask her to go with him?

All Rebekah could do was smile and pretend that she had been actually asked already, hoping to high heavens that a distracted Marcel would remember to ask her to be his date, preferably not on the day of the gala itself.

In the meantime, it wouldn't really hurt to be trying on dresses at this point, in case Marcel finally came to his senses and remembered that they were supposed to be in a romantic relationship. She had to hand it over to whoever organized these stupid things though. Once in every five years? Sounded like an elaborate ruse to make it seem like an invite to their event was the most desirable thing in history. Of course, nitwits and social climbers of the town were all over it, clamoring to be invited to the event where the wealthy and powerful of New Orleans convened.

Come to think of it, it was a little odd that the Mikaelsons never received an invite. They've thrown a few parties here and there ever since they've moved into town, people should be more than aware of their circle of influence. Hmmm.

Of course, Marcel would undoubtedly have an invite, even if the Mikaelsons didn't. He was considered one of the pillars of the town. Briefly, she wondered if anybody found it strange that Marcel could still attend these things after fifty years and still manage to look the same.

Ah, yes, the power of compulsion. How Rebekah missed it.

Now she stood in front of the mirror, holding up a red silk dress against her body. She couldn't compel random women to try out different dresses for her at once, as she used to do before, so choosing the perfect outfit now required more thought and effort. It was tedious and old-fashioned to do it this way, but it was a small price to pay.

As she threw the dress on her bed and held another against herself, a grating voice suddenly blasted from her doorway.

"Sister dearest, why are you trying your clothes out like a peasant?"

Great. Just what she needed, an interruption. And an annoying one at that.

Rebekah scowled at him through the mirror. "What do you want, Nik?"

"If you ask me nicely, I could, of course, compel a couple of ladies in here to help you out like the good ol' days," he said with a wide smile.

"You can take that offer and stuff yourself with it," she said impatiently, not bothering to face him to continue holding up dress after dress. Pink? Those frills were horrid. Lavender? Nauseating. Green? Oh… oh my, didn't that vibrant green look particularly lovely against her skin?

"Tsk, that's no way to treat a beloved sibling. Why couldn't I just drop by to have a chat, hmm?"

"A chat?" She rolled her eyes so hard she feared doing permanent damage to her optical nerves. Nik never came by "to have a chat." Out of all her siblings, he was probably the least likely to make small talk without motive behind it. Elijah, perhaps, as her other brother liked knowing what everyone was up to. Nik, however... She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Here I was thinking you were offering to do me a favor, when you actually want me to do something for you?"

"On the contrary, Rebekah. I was recently made aware that there is a certain event this week that is coming up. An event that it seems," Nik paused and made a gesture to her bed littered with formal dresses, "you want to badly attend."

He paused and put his finger on his chin. "Although I'm sure Marcellus has already invited you to go, of course, so I may as well throw out this invite addressed to me since I really have no use for it."

Rebekah stared at him. "How did you even get an invite? I thought they mailed those out months ago and none of us were on the list?"

"Well it was easy enough to compel someone to give me an invitation. But I find that I really don't feel like attending anything tomorrow night, anyway. They gave me the invite a little too late, you see, and I find that rather… irritating, don't you? Seems as I'm a mere afterthought when I should be on the VIP list," he said, flippantly waving the cream-colored envelope back and forth.

She narrowed her eyes. Just exactly what was he up to?

"Well, toodles, little sis. It was lovely catching up," he said jovially, turning around and crumpling the pristine envelope with his fist right before her very eyes.

Rebekah made a distressed sound.

He stepped back and innocently asked, "Hmm? Did you say something?"

"I…"

Her brother shot his eyebrows up expectantly. Oh God, did she really have to say it out loud?

"Marcel hasn't actually… invited me yet," she muttered.

An awkward pause ensued before he said anything. "So?"

Goddamnit. This was bloody embarrassing. Did she really have to put herself through this? How badly did she want to attend this silly party anyway? Hadn't she been in enough parties over the centuries? Weren't they all just the same? Besides, what if Marcel asked her?

Nik had a thoughtful expression on his face as he stared at her. "Come to think of it… Marcellus has been pretty busy as of late. I do wonder what is taking up his valuable time. Perhaps he doesn't have time for such frivolous things as attending fundraisers when he has the whole city to run."

Rebekah scowled, not liking that her brother was probably right. "Well, if you've been invited, maybe you can…"

"You mistake me, dear sister. I have no intentions of dressing up for some pretentious event to mingle with these phony dregs of society, nor do I have any intention to part away with an obscene amount of my money to support a corrupt politician's career."

Why was he being so difficult? He obviously knew she wanted to go. He obviously knew she had no invite, and here he was, throwing it in her face that he had a perfectly good invite he was choosing to throw away… Ugh, she really was going to have to spell it out for him.

"Fine, Nik. You're really going to make me say it aren't you, bloody bastard." She took a deep breath. "I'm bored, I want to dress up and go to this ball, I haven't been in civilized company in ages, being just stuck here with you and Elijah for conversation so would you please, please get your head out of your arse and attend this bloody party so you can bloody bring me with you."

His grin was as wide as it could get by the end of her little speech.

"And you only had to say 'please', Rebekah."

"So you'll do it then? Bring me with you?"

"Elijah's gladly agreed to babysit, and I've already RSVP-ed for the two of us hours ago." He smirked. "Although you didn't have to beg in such a pitiful manner. I was going to ask you to come with me anyway. Am I that cruel that I would leave you?"

She gaped at him, realizing he'd been jerking her chain around the whole time. "Bloody, bloody wanker!"

"You're welcome. Oh, and I'd pick the green dress if I were you," he said ingratiatingly, walking out of her room before she could do him bodily harm.

If finding ways to torture her wretch of a brother wasn't enough motivation to do better at witchcraft, then she didn't know what was.

…..

"Morning, Cami."

"Morning, Marie."

"You have a one o'clock with a Mr. Dantes and a two o'clock with a Mrs. Simmons later on," Cami's clinical supervisor, Marie Urquhart, announced as she walked in late that morning to fulfill her required clinical hours. Marie was a sweet old lady that smelled of cookies but still somehow managed to run everything in the clinic like a tight ship. The woman could be talking about her seven grandkids in one moment and then telling Cami she was off by ten cents logging in the payment in their clunky Jurrasic-era computer.

"Mr. Dantes? I don't think I've seen his name before. Is he a new patient?" Cami asked.

Marie nodded, pushing up her spectacles as she read the whole name from the screen. "Edmond Dantes? Booked an appointment last week. I think I tried to place him with one of the more senior counselors but he specifically asked for someone a little bit younger."

"Oh God, I hope he's not one of those pervs…"

"If it helps, the lad sounded like the perfect gentleman. But if you do feel uncomfortable, dear, I can step in as soon as possible instead of just come in mid-session like you've asked me to."

"Thanks for the offer, Marie, but I'll be fine. You've supervised me for what? Two hundred hours now? I told you, you can take it a little easy with me."

"Alright, just checking. I'll stop by earlier to make sure anyway. You know how they are with the policies."

"Of course," Cami smiled. "Anything you need me to do around here before my one o'clock starts?"

"Hmm, I guess the usual. Sorting out the insurance on some of them. It''s that pile right there," she motioned to the stack behind Cami's temporary desk.

"You got it, boss."

"Oh hush, child. I'm no boss and you know it."

It had been approximately two months since Camille O'Connell had quit being a bartender at Rousseau's. There were multiple reasons as to why she'd quit, one of them being that it was the number one place that they would look for her if they wanted to find her. There was that big "if" of course, since she doubted after that last scene she'd had with Klaus, that he'd be in any hurry to be looking for her.

More importantly, she'd also come to a staggering realization on just how much time she'd wasted at the bar. It was always good practice to talk to all kinds of people and observe various social interactions from Rousseau's, but at the end of the day, she really wasn't making any visible progress with what needed to be done to get herself that license.

Distancing herself from the Mikaelsons and their never-ending issues now given her enough time to focus on her required clinical hours. She checked her bank account right after she moved out, and due to the unexpected generosity of a certain Elijah Mikaelson (though to be honest, she didn't really know how he had come to arrive at that sum, perhaps there were miscellaneous compensations for all the injuries she had sustained associating with them), she calculated, if she was extremely careful with her money, she could now afford to drop her bartending gig for a year or two to focus on her career.

"Cami? Cami?"

She blinked, looking up at Marie, who seemed to have been calling out her name for the past minute. "Sorry, Marie, was spacing out there for a second."

"I think your phone's ringing," she said, giving Cami a concerned look.

"Oh!" She got up to retrieve it from her bag, looking at the screen. Niall. "Do you mind if I take this call outside real quick?"

"Go ahead, dear. The work will still be here," she said with a grin.

Cami stepped outside, pulling her jacket up to shield herself from the chill of the wind. The air was certainly crisp by New Orleans standards. She didn't mind. She preferred the cooler weather than having to sweat profusely.

"What's up, Niall?" she said on the phone.

"Just checking on you. We're still good for tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night? Oh, you mean the fundraiser. Of course. I'm excited!"

Not really.

She didn't exactly relish the fact that she could possibly run into a Mikaelson or two at the most important event of the year for the city. Niall had advised her not to worry, and given that he'd stressed out how necessary it was for him to build connections once more, she'd said yes to accompany him as a show of her support.

"Well, in case you wanted to do some last minute shopping, or whatever it is you women have to do to get ready, just let me know and I can take you."

She gave an overly dramatic sigh for his benefit and said, "Thank you for asking, really, but you know I can take care of myself right?"

There was a pause, and then his begrudging tone. "You're proving to be annoyingly capable, Cami O'Connell."

"If this is you feeling guilty for leaving years ago, don't…"

"It's not guilt." There was a pause over the phone, as if he was thinking on how to phrase his words next. "You've just been left to fend for yourself for some time, I figured you'd welcome the change of someone looking out for you."

She was silent for a while, wondering how to respond. "That… would be nice, yes."

"All I'm saying is, it isn't bad to need someone sometimes. Or have someone do things for you sometimes. You know you can rely on me," he said, his voice as gentle as it could be.

It was times like these that made Cami question where her heart truly wanted to go. Niall's openness and protectiveness made her rethink things she wanted out of her life. She wasn't naive to think that he only wanted to be her friend. No proclamations of love were grandiosely declared, but she knew Niall, and he certainly wouldn't be saying such things on the phone, had he not cared deeply for her.

"I know. I'm still getting used to the thought," she laughed, trying to make things light-hearted between the two of them. She wasn't ready to analyze anything at this point, not while she had to focus on her job. "I'll talk to you later, alright? Since Marie's here already and I need to get back to work."

"Tell her not to be such a slave-driver."

"You and I both know the woman is an angel."

"That she is." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night at six?"

"Got it. See you tomorrow!"

She put her phone in her pocket and let out a deep breath.

You know you can rely on me, Niall had said. She knew, but she just wasn't ready to accept it. Perhaps because someone else had more or less told her the same things, a million years ago, it seemed.

You are never alone. Not while I am here.

Someone else had made her the same promise, and here she was, still reeling from a broken heart from believing it.

She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and went back inside to immerse herself with the day's work. No use crying over spilled milk.

…..

Cami stared at him, horror and disbelief in her voice. "You're… Mr. Dantes."

It was now one o'clock, and she'd entered the room for her first session, only to find a very bored-looking Elijah Mikaelson seated in one of the leather chairs in the room, apparently waiting for her arrival.

"Edmond Dantes," she repeated faintly.

"The one and only," he drawled, giving her a smile that bordered on the insolent.

"I should have known. The Count of Montecristo. That's your favorite book or something. I thought something was weird when I heard the name. I should've connected the dots." She put her fingers to her temples and rubbed hard. "Why are you even here?"

She was aware she was rambling a bit, but it was all she could do if she didn't want to break out in hysteria and start throwing things at Elijah to drive him away as if he was all a bad dream. What was she saying earlier to herself about avoiding Mikaelsons? Naturally, she was deluding herself into thinking she could possibly hide from them. They would probably have found her no matter what corner of the earth she'd run to, had they wished to.

"Why do you think I'm here, Camille? I see your tendency to ask nonsensical questions have not abated in the least."

"Elijah, if I knew, I wouldn't ask, would I? So what is it? You're here to torture me? Show off your latest Armani suit? You're bored and I'm an easy target?"

He gave her a frown. "I wanted to see if you were well."

"That's all?"

"What else could there be?" he shrugged.

"When you say it like that, you make me off to be the pettiest person on earth."

"Well. How do you Americans say it? 'If the shoe fits.'" He gave her a satisfied smile and then stood up to look around. "So, this is your new work environment. Quite an improvement from that god-awful bar."

"Hey! You liked hanging out in that god-awful bar!"

"Did I?"

"Yes, and what… could you stop walking around and touching things in this office? You're supposed to just sit still and vent out your worries instead of inspecting every little knick-knack you can find on the table."

He dropped the glass figurine he was playing with and gave her a knowing look. "As I was saying, pettiness is one of your character traits."

"Yeah? Well, weirdness is yours," she shot back, and then immediately cringed. She sounded like a child, even to her ears. She certainly was not expecting to be meeting Elijah so soon. Had she known she would have attempted to at least mentally prepare herself. She took a deep breath and prayed for patience.

"I meant to say… generousness… is yours. Thank you for that paycheck you deposited into my account."

"It was a little late considering the hours you've spent with us, and I must apologize for that. You deserved every cent of it and more."

"Thank you, I needed it. I could finally…"

Before she could say anything further, Marie entered the room and sat on one of the chairs behind her. With this little surprise from Elijah, it had completely slipped her mind that Marie was going to come in and supervise her session.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Dantes, Ms. O'Connell is still doing the required hours to get her license. As part of the program, I am here to supervise all her interactions. My name is Marie Urquhart, and anything you say here will, of course, be kept confidential. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable with my presence, feel free to let me or Ms. O'Connell know."

Elijah nodded graciously at Marie, while Cami remained frozen, unsure how to proceed with a spectator around.

Elijah gave her stiff countenance an amused smile and smooth as silk said, "You were saying you wanted me to lie on the chaise, Camille?"

"Uhhh, yes, if that is the position would be most comfortable to you, Elij…" she coughed to cover her mistake, "Edmond."

Elijah moved, meticulously unbuttoning his suit to take off the jacket. He put his feet up and crossed them, hands clasped against his chest, looking relaxed and all too pleased with the way things were turning out.

"Now tell me, uh, Edmond, was there something specific on your mind that brought you here?" she prodded, mentally cursing Elijah for putting her in such an awkward situation. God, please let the hour pass by quickly. Please let the hour pass by quickly...

He started speaking. "Family, as you know, is the most important… most cherished aspect of my life. Every move I make is due to careful consideration of what would be the best for my family."

Cami shot Marie a tentative look, hoping that the older woman didn't suspect anything strange with Elijah's speech. She turned back to Elijah. "Isn't that good though? Valuing your family is good."

"Perhaps. At times it is a large burden. At times it leads me to make decisions that is unpopular but ultimately beneficial to my family's sake."

"Unpopular, how?" she asked, genuinely curious as to where this was going. How unlike Elijah to suddenly be so open with a stranger around. But then… this could all be a ruse. Just like his stupid made-up name. Edmond Dantes, indeed! She nearly snorted while thinking about it.

"Take my brother for example. Charming chap, but he has his faults. He is selfish, secretive, paranoid…"

Alright, maybe this wasn't a ruse. That definitely sounded like Klaus.

"What does this have to do with you, though?" she asked pointedly. From behind her, she could hear Marie rustling, as if disapproving of her callous interruption.

"It has everything to do with me, because unfailingly, it is I that would have to deal with the aftermath of his actions. Especially with the most recent one. You see, it seems as if he was enamored with a certain woman. I had all the hopes that she could somehow change him. That her inner goodness and unselfishness could somehow redeem him."

He couldn't possibly be referring to her, could he?

Cami started to sweat. "And you saw that she wouldn't be able to do that."

"Perhaps. I cannot see the future. He obviously listens to her a certain degree, and I had begun to hope. However, when I saw that he still had the same old tendencies to put himself, to put his feelings first before hers, I began to lose that belief. In some ways, wanting her has only made him more volatile. There are times I think that he has changed of course, but he reverts back to his selfish nature, a nature that cannot grasp how to be considerate of others. I felt sorry for this woman. She was very much a vibrant being, and the steps that I took were only to save them from ruining each other."

"What did you do, Elijah?" she asked, unable to keep the emotion from her voice, beyond caring that she'd called him now by his actual name.

"I told him he cannot be with her, repeatedly. And though he isn't aware of it, there are times my words surprisingly have such a great influence on my brother, that he eventually ended up believing me."

She tried to clear her head. Tried to reason out what she was going to ask next with all these revelations thrown in her lap. "Are you saying your brother wanted to be with this woman?"

"I do not know. Only he can tell how he really feels. I can only deduce from the things that I witness."

Cami shook her head. "I think you're overestimating the effect of your words on him. From what I… can gather, your brother had already made up his own mind, even without your intervention. If he truly wanted things to work out, he would have found a way, wouldn't he?"

"You give him too much credit. He is well aware that he is putting her life in danger, should they ever be together. He has too many enemies that will want to harm him, that will want to use her to harm him. Should he ever be in a situation where he has to choose between saving his daughter or saving this woman, well, I do not care to picture the outcome."

She swallowed, finding it difficult to listen to Elijah's words. However, everything he said was true, that a possibility of a relationship with Klaus was doomed, even before it started. Painful, but true.

Elijah went on. "I only came here to admit that I am not entirely innocent in discouraging this relationship. But I want it clear that I did it for both their sakes, and I am hoping that this woman can find it in her heart to forgive me."

Her mouth went dry as he stopped looking ahead and turned his head to look at her directly. His eyes dropped to her hands, which she'd just now realized were clasped together so tightly, the knuckles had turned white.

"Well, you obviously have thought about your brother's and my… her feelings and well-being a lot. I can't fault you for that. I'm sure, given enough time, she eventually will understand. Time has a way of healing all things," she finished lamely.

He smiled and turned back around, settling comfortably once more on the couch. "A little cliche, Ms. O'Connell, but I can accept that for now."

She couldn't help but give a tiny smile at the unexpected sincerity, and then she suddenly remembered that it wasn't just the two of them in the room. She wondered what in the world Marie was thinking of her style of talking to patients. Trying to rack her brain for what a normal therapist would say to a patient next, she prodded Elijah, "Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Mr. Dantes? What about yourself? Is there anything else that is bothering you?"

Despite having his back to her, she could almost see Elijah's smirk at her psych spiel, and she could feel the waves of amusement emanating from him.

Lord, only forty minutes to go until this awkwardness is over.

Much later, after the whole ordeal was over and done with, Marie commented on her over-familiarity with the patient, her needless and constant interruptions, and her inconsistent usage of his name. "Oh dear, the first step to having a patient trust you is to get their names right," Marie had said, shaking her head as she wrote notes on Cami's file.

Cami had been miserable after that, which caused Marie to pat her on the back and softly say, "Not to worry, my dear, not everybody can keep calm when their patients are that good-looking. But one thing we must always remember is to just be as professional as we can. Unfortunately, Cami, it may be in our best interests for me to go back to supervising you full time in all your sessions from here on out."

She did her best to give Marie a weak smile, even as she fumed inside. Be more professional? This was all Elijah's fault. Why couldn't he just meet her at a coffee shop or some random street like a normal person?! Trust a Mikaelson to have the worst timing in history and make her come out looking really bad.

What was that he said?

I am hoping that this woman can find it in her heart to forgive me.

After that humiliating review? After all her hard work to build herself up in Marie's esteem for months, only to be swiftly toppled in one moment just because he decided that it was convenient to play pretend in Cami's workplace?

Like hell, Elijah.

….

Rebekah Mikaelson stepped out of the town car and onto the walkway, careful not to trip over the folds of her green Elie Saab gown. She'd opted for the evening dress with its daring V-neckline and organza flower appliques dotting the butterfly-shaped lace bodice, loving the sensation of the numerous layers of emerald green fabric lightly flowing from her belted waist to her feet as she walked.

"Well now, don't you look lovely. Proof that you should listen to your brother more," Nik commented as he held out his arm to escort her inside the venue.

"You know what, Nik? That makes your record of doling out good advice one in a thousand."

"One in a thousand?" he scoffed. "Bollocks."

They walked through the red carpet and through the lobby of the building, several ushers directing them to the ballroom after their names and coats were checked.

Nik leaned towards her and whispered conspiringly, "So tell me, has the amorous Marcel Gerard finally remembered to give you a call?"

"Eventually. I told him it was too late, of course. He's miffed at you for stealing me as a date. In fact, he was so upset that he accidentally gave away the entire reason why you were so eager to come to this gala in the first place."

Nik stopped walking and stared at her.

"And you only had to say 'please'," she quoted, grinning widely at the stunned expression on his face. Sometimes her brother made it all too easy. "Move along, Nik, move along! You're holding up the line behind you."

The red carpet eventually led to an area where the lights were dimmed for ambience. As she entered the ballroom, she couldn't help but look high above, to the massive glowing chandeliers that hung from cathedral-like ceilings. What took away Rebekah's breath was the large gilded pillars situated through either sides of the room. The pillars glinted, their reflections on the polished wooden floor brightening up an already spectacularly-lit room. A balcony surrounding the ballroom ran throughout the perimeter, a lovely place to watch guests as they came in through the wide entrance below. She could already see a throng of people had gone upstairs to mingle while subtly peering downstairs. There was already quite a crush of guests present in their tuxedos and designer evening gowns, champagne in one hand and hors d'oeuvres in another. The sound of violins and tinkling laughter wafted through the air, as the gentlemen sized the each other up, and the ladies coveted what other ladies were wearing, whispering to each other what expensive jewelry was being blatantly shown off.

"The preening of peacocks never change," Nik commented beside her.

Before she could respond, her brother had already left her side and was already making a beeline for a server holding a tray of drinks. She lost sight of him after a minute due to the crowd.

She figured she might as well go to the balcony area with a drink or two. After all, what good were parties if she couldn't avail herself of the free-flowing alcohol and enjoy laughing at stupid people from afar? She kept an eye out for Marcel as she made her way upstairs, smoothly grabbing a glass of champagne when a harried-looking server passed by.

Some minutes later, as she was enjoying seeing the little bits of drama unfolding downstairs, a familiar voice whispered behind her ear. "You look absolutely divine in that dress."

She whirled and found Marcel, eyeing her like she was food on a platter. She grinned and gave him a kiss. "I was dressing to impress someone, of course."

"Where's your date?"

"Which date?" she asked, coyly touching his chest.

"The ugly one," Marcel said in a deadpan tone. They both laughed and then Rebekah straightened from his embrace.

"Speaking of which, I haven't seen him in a while. Have you seen him at all? We did come together," she said, a little worried that not for the first time, Nik was going to get himself into something stupid.

After minutes of looking around, Marcel finally spotted him standing near one of the pillars, already downing a glass of scotch, a trademark scowl in place. Rebekah saw him momentarily freeze and get an odd expression on his face as he spotted something near the entrance of the ballroom. She and Marcel both followed his gaze.

"Oh," came out Rebekah's soft gasp.

It was the human girl, Camille O'Connell.

Cami, in a beautifully beaded midnight blue gown, its mermaid cut hugging her shapely hips and flaring magnificently down to her feet, the sweetheart neckline revealing creamy skin. Her gown had produced the desired effect of a starry night, its multiple silver beads dotting the bodice and tapering down until there were barely any beads on her waist. She wore no other jewelry save for big sapphire teardrops, and her hair was swept up in a simple up-do. It was understated and elegant, but the way she had filled out her gown and radiated confidence seemed to render everybody speechless.

It seemed as if the buzz of the whole room had stopped, and all eyes were on the blonde girl and the man beside her whose arm she was holding as she walked gracefully towards the center of the room. Niall MacAllister, looking impressive in his well-cut black tuxedo, like everyone else alongside him, could not take his eyes off her.

Oh God. Nik.

Rebekah nodded to Marcel and headed downstairs to where Nik was, clutching at the long folds of her gown to avoid stumbling along the way. She finally reached him. He hadn't moved from his position and was still staring at the pair who had suddenly become the talk of the whole party. His grip had unconsciously tightened on his glass as he heard someone remark on what a beautiful couple they made, and Rebekah reached to hold his arm.

"Nik," she muttered in a low warning, noting the cracks on the glass. "Put that down before you make a scene."

He blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and stared at her.

"The glass?" she motioned to his hand. Another irritated look from him, as if he was wondering why on earth his sister was randomly prattling about glassware on such occasions. She wrenched it out of his hand before he could protest.

They both watched as Niall and Cami made their rounds all over the ballroom, looking very much like high society's 'it' couple. Noted the proprietary way Niall's large hand had settled on her waist to lead her. Witnessed as Cami laughed at a joke Niall told their current party.

Rebekah gave Nik a sideways glance, gripping his arm as if the act of holding could restrain the large aura of resentment coming from him.

"You were the one who ran away from her, you know," Rebekah said in a low voice. "You shouldn't be getting upset. I thought you wanted to stay away."

His response was curt. "I did."

"Then don't throw a fit when somebody else strives to make her happy. Did you know that every night you didn't come home at that time meant another night I could hear her crying softly in her room?"

Nik stared at her for a while before tersely saying, "I was unaware that I've put her in such misery..."

Rebekah shook her head in exasperation. "What a fool you are, brother. She would have gone to the ends of the earth for you, had you but asked. Everyone could see her feelings, but all you could do was run away like a bloody coward. I thought it would have worked out between the two of you, but gods, you are selfish, Nik. It's probably better that she's moved on to Niall, because the girl deserves some happiness in her short life. I told you didn't I, that it…"

Rebekah stopped her angry tirade, noticing the expression on Nik's face, as something had suddenly clicked somewhere in that convoluted brain of his.

Her eyes went wide as she noticed that he was starting to move towards the center of the room. "Where are you going?" she said in indignation. "Nik?"

He turned back to her, a steely look in his eye.

"Nik, don't," she warned softly. "You will not be welc-"

"You've just revealed to me that all I've done is make her cry. Wretched monster that I am," he said, his lips flattening into a grim line, voice heavily laced with frustration. "And out there, someone else is making her laugh."

As if on cue, Cami's laugh could be heard, and they both turned to see Niall whisper something in her ear.

Nik turned back to Rebekah, saying quietly, "If there is anyone that should be making her bloody laugh, it should be me. If there is anyone that should be giving her bloody happiness, it should be me. She is mine, Rebekah. Mine alone."

He turned his feet and walked away, giving Rebekah a sinking feeling that things were about to get much worse for everyone before they got better.

…..

Cami found herself thinking that Niall looked really good tonight. She caught herself staring at him as he greeted a couple of distinguished-looking gentlemen, his well-fitting tuxedo making him stand out even amongst a sea of men in the most expensive formal-wear.

Not that she didn't know always know that he was a good looking man. Tonight just seemed different as it was the first time she'd entertained the notion of being attracted to this man.

He'd stood outside her door ringing her bell, waiting for her to open it. As she did, he'd given her that warm appreciative male gaze at her whole ensemble, making her think that she made the right decision to put effort in her appearance. He'd lifted her hand to give her a feather-light kiss on her skin, making her feel warm, even as the cold wind from the outside seeped inside her apartment. And from that point on, Cami seemed to feel as if she had somehow got transported into a Bond film.

And then there was Mr. Bond himself, a.k.a. Niall, who was definitely using every opportunity to physically touch her. Grasping her wrist to lead her through the crowd, fleeting touches to her arm, a hand on her waist, whispers that grazed his lips against her ear…

To say that she was not even remotely physically aware of this very attractive man was to downright lie, and it was fast becoming difficult to ignore that there could be a possible attraction on her end as well.

It is better that your friend has come back to town… for he is more able to provide you with whatever it is that you need.

She tried to keep a smile on her face as she suddenly remembered Klaus' parting words that night.

The night that he'd kissed her, and then pushed her away. He'd suggested she go to Niall, and as a final slap to her face, he'd left that night, never to be seen or heard from again. Her heart and ego were badly bruised, and she hadn't meant for it to happen, but to have Niall suddenly come in had helped her recover a bit of her bearings. She knew, however, it wasn't good to use her friend like that, even as he'd begged for her to rely on him. But…

But it crossed her mind daily, would it be such a bad idea to reciprocate his affections, even if she wasn't completely ready?

You aren't being fair, Cami. You should tell him the truth… And then you can both figure it out from there.

She sighed deeply, which caused the man beside her to look at her in concern. "Did you want some fresh air?" Niall asked. "It's getting a little stuffy in here, isn't it?"

"Isn't his speech about to start?" she asked, referring to the mayor, who was visibly getting hounded by a group of businessmen.

"I assume it isn't for a while. Everyone looks like they're still finishing their hors d'oeuvres."

"Then yes, fresh air sounds great just about now." She looked up at him apologetically. "Have I told you I hate mingling?"

He gave her a roguish grin. "Hey, whatever the lady wants. I'll grab your coat and we can head outside for a bit. Maybe after we come in, the boring bits will be done."

She watched his back as he left, and walked over to a quiet area to wait for him, behind one of the pillars where it seemed no one had claimed as a spot. She thought about what she was going to tell Niall when they were outside.

If he chose to wait until she was ready for a relationship, that would be entirely up to him. But the last thing she wanted to do was to lead somebody on and make them hope on things she wasn't even sure about. At this point, she just wanted to finish her clinic hours. She just wanted to get her license. If Niall still chose to be her friend after this, without further expectation from her, then she would gladly know that this friendship was real, and she would be as good a friend to him as he was to her.

After some minutes, she sensed a presence behind her as she was wool-gathering, and thinking it was Niall, she spoke before turning. "I wanted to tell you something…"

She stopped, her stomach dropping as she finally got a glimpse of him.

Niklaus Mikaelson stood before her, devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his crisp white shirt a stark contrast in the dark shadows of where she'd chosen to wait for Niall's return.

"Hello, Camille."

….