A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for the wonderful comments and support! Without further ado, this is part 3!
Enjoy!
xXx
CeruleanBlues
Blue Jeans
Part 3
Big dreams, gangster
Said you had to leave to start your life over
I was like: "no please, stay here,"
We don't need no money we can make it all work
Just like that, she was Klaus' Old Lady.
Nothing was drastically different. Caroline still went about her day working her shifts at the bar, and occasionally the boys would drop by for lunch, or do a quick check-up on her under their President's orders, but other than the fact that she would spend the majority of her evenings cruising down highways with the club—and more often than not, entertaining Rebekah's whims and tantrums, or even begrudgingly volunteering herself up as the emotional punching bag to more girls than she could remember—or otherwise engaged in copious amounts of sex, everything else was pretty ordinary.
Women weren't allowed during Church, which meant that club affairs were kept hidden from her. Regardless, she wasn't a dumb idiot. She knew the workings of a motorcycle gang; her mom had instilled quite an education in that aspect, though what the sheriff thought of her daughter fraternizing with the enemy was still a mystery. If anybody had mentioned her misgivings to Liz Forbes, Caroline hadn't heard about it, so at that moment, she would chalk it up to thinking that her mother was blissfully unaware.
Occasionally, she would catch snippets of dealings that were happening, or tasks given to the prospects to complete, but whenever that happened, Klaus was quick to chastise his men about keeping their shit where shit ought to be. In a way, she understood perfectly what he was doing; he was protecting her. The lesser she knew, the better, and if anything, she appreciated that he obviously respected her enough to shelter her from his fucked-up world, especially in an environment where bedding different whores and getting bat-crap wasted each night was a norm to those guys.
To him, though, she was the only one, and he made it his life's mission to constantly remind her so.
He treated her like a man would treat his significant other, and he showed her a side of him that he wouldn't ever show anybody else. With her, he wasn't the feared leader or the cold-blooded murderer; he was simply Niklaus Mikaelson. Truth be told, he was a bit of a teddy bear—he enjoyed cuddling up to her a night, and had a beguiling habit of sketching her when he thought she wasn't aware—and slowly but surely, Caroline realized that she was starting to fall for him; this person with his flaws and his charms.
And a million shades of gray.
Perhaps she ought to know better.
Perhaps she ought to do as she had planned and keep her distance.
Perhaps she ought to listen to the part of her that told her to run.
Perhaps she ought to ignore the part of her that told her to stay.
"I'll be right back," his silken voice murmured low in her ears, and then the warmth from his hands disappeared as he left her side towards the back with Kol in tow.
She understood that it was business.
Turning away from the bar, Caroline observed the scene that she had quickly become accustomed to. It wasn't pretty; far from it. The bar was called The Hybrid's Den, and she had come to learn that it sat on neutral territory; a solid ground for meets between MCs. What it meant was that nomads and members alike rode in for all purposes without the code or the law as protection. She watched the patchholders at the corner with a certain degree of misplaced fondness.
Tyler was animatedly recounting a tale or another to their newest prospects, gesturing wildly in the air and beer dribbling down his arm. Jeremy was sprawled out on a couch, a girl draped over his lap and slobbering all over his face, and that was so typically him to find the skankiest tramp around to satiate his libido. Caroline rolled her eyes, catching sight of Damon brooding all by his lonesome, and wondered what drama prevailed him this time round. Chances were, he was having another falling out with Elena; their back-and-forth was a never-ending love affair. Stefan and Rebekah were off in their own little world—a regular occurrence of shameless grope-fests and public displays of affection—which she wouldn't mind so much, but she really didn't need to know about that red thong; the one that was sticking out from Stefan's back pocket.
"Hey, sweetheart."
She stiffened, her gaze slanting as a man sidled up next to her and conveniently invaded on her personal space. He was tall and slightly on the bulky side. His chest bumped against her shoulder, but despite his dark beard and out-of-control raven curls, he lacked the leather and the all-important patch that might protect him.
Against her better judgment, Caroline found herself relaxing just a smidge, feeling rather confident that she was safe amongst some of the most dangerous men around. Tyler caught her eye; he and his little posse were already on their feet and poised to intervene. Discreetly, she shook her head, telling him to stand down. Even Damon had jolted out of his funk and was in on the show, looking more murderous than he needed to be.
"What's a fine girl like you doing in such a dirty place like this?" the unsuspecting—and rather ballsy—fellow persevered, oblivious to her blatant disregard to entertain him.
The corner of her lips twitched almost tauntingly. "Ignoring you," she retorted, faux-sweetly batting her eyelashes.
"Not for long."
She scoffed. "I think you need to leave."
His disobedient hand crept over the surface of the countertop, inching closer to her elbow. "Is that an invitation, darling?"
"I believe it's a warning, mate."
The volume abruptly dropped to a low hum in the room.
Klaus stalked over. He took deliberate steps forward, his boots thumping against the cheap parquet, the gait of a predator. His fists were clenched; the scowl etched in his handsome face positively menacing, and Caroline could sense it in her bones that things were not going to bode well for the poor lad who was about to be on the receiving end of the president's wrath.
She noticed the instant it dawned on the man that he was in trouble, the way he straightened immediately. All of his bravado flew right out of the window as his eyes darted around the bar, almost as if he was seizing up how badly he was outnumbered, and possibly counting the next-to-impossible ways he could escape from being the plaything to a dozen or more bikers.
"Hey, man, I didn't mean any harm," he blurted out, palms raised in pitiful surrender as he attempted to weasel his way out, only to have his measly efforts thwarted when Tyler and Damon flanked his sides. "I was just—I swear, I didn't know she was your Old Lady—"
Klaus barely acknowledged him. "Was he disturbing you, love?"
"No," she told him calmly. "No, he wasn't."
"Flirting, then?"
Caroline surged forward and rested a soothing hand at the center of his chest, hoping to avoid the impending bloodshed. "Klaus, please, don't—"
He silenced her with a cutting glare. "Did he touch you?"
She paused a little too long.
With startling composure, Klaus gently placed his hands on her waist. "Love, I think I'll need you to step away."
Dread filled the pit of her stomach.
"What—what are you going to do?"
His grin was nothing but malicious. "I'll try my best not to kill him."
She felt Rebekah's fingers wrap around her wrist, tugging her away from the line of attack and looking giddy with anticipation. Caroline gaped at her in disbelief. "Are you encouraging this?"
The other blonde simply shrugged. "My brother does whatever the hell he wants. I have a feeling he'd want to put up a show for you."
Suddenly, the crimson wash of the dim lights turned sinister; a foreboding of what was to come, and Caroline felt her heart pound a stampede in her ribcage. She wanted to shout—wanted to beg Klaus for his mercy—but her mouth ran dry.
The first cry of pain made her flinch. She recoiled at the sight—at the splatter of blood that sprayed the floor—when Klaus sent his fist pummeling into the man's nose. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp of horror at the explicit display. He was ruthless, devoid of compassion as he delivered blow after blow, relentlessly punishing the battered guy from something as harmless as a pick-up line, and a wave of guilt crashed over her soul.
"Stop it! Klaus, stop!"
His fist froze in mid-air, the other firmly grasped around a handful of the semi-conscious offender, his face unrecognizable and soaked in crimson, barely able to hold his own weight.
"Let him go, Klaus," she sobbed. "Please."
He didn't even blink, still consumed by rage.
"Klaus, please."
The color drained from her features when instead of conceding to her request, he reached into his holster for his firearm. She balked, lurching forward, but Rebekah held her in place. Helpless to the situation, Caroline could only stare as the man she loved took aim and pulled the trigger.
"No!" she screamed.
Just like that, she truly understood what it meant to be Klaus' Old Lady.
Contrary to popular belief, he didn't take pleasure in killing people; it was simply a necessary evil, and one that he had been engineered to follow all his life. In his world, it was survival of the fittest.
Reflex.
He could put a bullet through someone's brains faster than it took to think about it.
There was no shame and no penance.
Until he unceremoniously dropped the body in a worthless heap on the floor, motioned for the boys to take care of it, and then spun around to see that heart-wrenching expression marring Caroline's beautiful face. A chill ran down his spine, reality sinking in at what she had just witnessed, and what it would mean to the way she felt for him.
"Caroline…"
"No, don't," she hissed, yanking her arm from Rebekah's clutches. "I—I can't look at you right now."
"Love, I—"
She recoiled when he took a step closer, and his chest constricted, hating the way she sneered at him with such repulse, he might as well have murdered a newborn baby. "I said don't!" Carelessly swiping at the tears running down her cheeks, she added disdainfully, "I don't want to see you ever again."
"Caroline—"
"Get the fuck away from me, Klaus!"
There was no shame and no penance.
There was only dread.
Caroline called the one person she knew who would understand.
The chill of the night nipped at her skin, drying up the wet tracks staining the side of her face, and she really ought to head back to the bar, but she didn't think she had the energy left to swallow what was left of her self-preservation and turn around. Even so, trekking down the side of an empty highway was probably just as bad a decision—if not worse.
"Hey, Care?"
She nearly wept in relief. "Matt?"
There was a pregnant pause; the line went silent.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "What happened?"
Inhaling a trembling breath, she whispered, "Klaus."
"Fuck!"
Despite the gravity of what had happened within the last hour of her life, Caroline managed a smile, because in all the years that she had known him, she didn't remember ever hearing him swear.
"Where are you?" he demanded.
She scanned her surroundings; nothing but trees and rolling hills, and the long road ahead. "I don't know," she murmured. "A mile or less from The Hybrid's Den."
"Hang tight, I'm coming."
"Congratulations, Nik," Rebekah remarked sarcastically in that lazy droll as she flopped down on the couch next to him. "You've managed to successfully eradicate the one girl daft enough to actually have feelings for you."
Her words grated on his nerves as he scowled into his glass of bourbon, pointedly ignoring her attempt at goading him, knowing that it would only serve her purpose, and that he was above that. Klaus certainly wasn't in the mood to entertain his sister's wisecracks—or the lecture he was sure to receive shortly—and most definitely not after all the fucked-up shit that had gone down at the bar.
Caroline leaving was a slap to his face; a betrayal of sorts.
She was his Old Lady, damn it!
"Oh, lay off him, sis," Kol sniggered, draping his slightly buzzed frame over an unoccupied chair. "He just got dumped."
"I didn't get dumped," he snarled, slamming the glass down onto the coffee table. "Just fuck off; both of you."
"So she can't handle a bit of blood," Kol continued as if he hadn't heard his older brother. "I'm sure she was well aware of what she got into when she signed up to be your unfortunate companion; what else had she expected? Roses and candlelight dinners?"
"Is this your idea of a pep talk, Kol?" Rebekah snorted, theatrically flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Because you suck. And you, Nik; you're being a fucking git. Was it completely necessary to kill the wanker? I think a bit of intimidation would've been quite adequate."
Klaus growled, a sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "He laid his filthy paws on her."
"Technically, I think it was just a mere brush of his fingers against her elbow," she corrected with a roll of her eyes. "Nothing that warrants a death sentence. Raging jealousy does not become you, dear brother."
"Oh, please," the older sibling scoffed. "I've killed for far less."
"And normally, I'd hum along and pretend to understand your inane need to assert your authority and prove that you're the alpha male of a motorcycle club," Rebekah intoned dryly. "But in this case, I'm going to do the female population a favor and remind you that we're not all fragile little weaklings. You have this really narrow perspective of Caroline, as if she's going to break into a million pieces, but you're wrong, you know."
"Do enlighten us, then," Kol prodded. "Because it doesn't seem like she's Old Lady material after all."
Rebekah narrowed her eyes. "That's where you're wrong. It would do the club a lot of good to have her around. As much as it pains me to admit, she's the only one who seems to care—genuinely care—about anything at all."
"With a rigidly boring moral compass, might I add," Kol sniffed. "Look, let's call a spade a spade, alright? She's just not cut out for this world. I hope you weren't too attached, Nik."
Klaus remained stoically silent, only half-listening in on their banter.
"Too late, Kol," his sister smirked. "I think he already is."
The last place Caroline wanted to be in was another fucking bar, but that was exactly where she ended up; seated on one of those high stools with a cup of coffee and sharing a basket of fries between her and Matt. Considering the late hour, the place was rather empty. A jukebox in the corner was playing country music, and nobody was even looking at her twice. Slowly, she began to relax.
"What happened tonight, Care?"
She paused in mid-chew, warily studying the concern written in her ex-boyfriend's handsome face. "What do you think?"
"Did he—did he try to hurt you?" he questioned, even though it seemed like he didn't want to know the answer to it.
Caroline tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "No," she muttered. "No, he didn't."
Matt's sigh of relief was slightly comical.
"But he shot someone."
The brutal scene flashed before her, successions of a horror movie; the callousness and cruelty of ending someone's life. Nobody should have that much power, that much apathy, or that much uncontained animosity. Her ears were still ringing from the gunshot. She didn't think it would ever stop, but it wasn't the traumatic experience that terrified her. It was seeing Klaus for what he really was; the outlaw that she had heard so much about. His words—that promise of killing without remorse—replayed themselves like a broken record, and what a fucking stupidly naïve girl she had been. To trust him, to believe in him, to hope that beneath the hardened exterior, he could be saved.
"Shit, Care," Matt winced. "I'm sorry you had to be there."
"Yeah, well," she stuttered. "Who would've thought he'd be one of those psychotic jealous types?"
There was a light chuckle before the frown. "He's possessive and territorial. Klaus did the same to practically all of Rebekah's past lovers before Stefan stepped in to end the rampage."
"Speaking from experience?"
"When one gets threatened by the town's most dangerous man, one doesn't easily forget," Matt spat out scornfully.
Caroline leaned in with her eyes narrowed. "And now he's trying to recruit you into the club?"
He seemed conflicted, then. "You know, I shouldn't even be with you right now. He'll come after me, and then he'll come after you."
"Why?" she exclaimed. "Just because I walked out on him?"
"Nobody turns their back on Niklaus Mikaelson without repercussions, Care."
"That's too bad then," she retorted. "Because I already did."
Sleep evaded him. Every time he closed his eyes, her beautiful face was all he saw; carefree and laughing with that tinge of innocence that he found completely endearing. It haunted him, taunted him with his failures; his sad inability to shelter her from the monster that he really was.
Sitting up, Klaus swung his legs over the bed and ran a hand over his tired features. The sheets were too cold, the mattress was too big, and the room was stifling in the way that it hadn't in a very long time.
Damn Rebekah for planting poison in his head.
Damn his sister for being the voice of reason.
Damn her for making him see what exactly he was truly upset about.
Losing Caroline.
He had done such a splendid job keeping his demons at bay—had foolishly thought that he could keep her in a bubble and away from club businesses—that he had allowed himself to forget how deeply they integrated with his very essence. The ugly, quintessential aspects that made him who he was, he had veiled her eyes to them, and now he was paying the hefty price.
He lost her anyway.
Would it have turned out any different had he done things the other way?
Revealed the true nature of his monstrosity and then hoped against all that she would still love him with all her heart?
The time flashing on his cellphone alerted him that it was half past three. There was no way in fucking hell was he going to get a good night's rest, and so he grabbed the used gray Henley strewn across his covers and pulled it on before trudging out of his bedroom.
A prospect—Klaus hardly learned their names until they proved themselves worthy—was on watch in the common area, though he was nodding off at the table with a shotgun tucked under his arm. Vigilance was obviously a problem with the newer boys—they simply lacked the finesse it took to rise up to the ranks—and he reckoned this little punk could use a rude awakening.
Retrieving the emergency pistol from one of the many hiding spots underneath the sofa, Klaus aimed it inches away from the napping buffoon's feet, and fired.
"Fuck, shit!" he yelped, falling off the chair. The bastard was definitely awake now as he scrambled to stand at attention. "Klaus!"
"Give me a valid reason why I shouldn't gouge your eyeballs from their sockets."
The young lad gulped and looked about ready to piss in his pants. "I—I'm sorry, I—I wasn't—"
"Doing your bloody job?" Klaus sneered, plucking a cigarette from its box. Before he could reach for the lighter, however, the prospect had swiftly offered his own, holding the flame steady as he took a puff. "Where's Kol?"
"He's in his room," the reply came instantly. "He's got company, actually."
Klaus rolled his eyes. "Of course he does. Let him know that I'm going out for a ride."
"Will do."
Sleep evaded her. Tossing and turning amongst the rustling sea of her duvet, her eyelids popped open with a groan. With a frustrated huff, Caroline flung it off her body and hopped out of bed, padding towards the en suite. She splashed some water on her face, hoping it would cool off the fire in her cheeks, and then grimaced when she noticed the dark circles in her reflection.
A low rumbling cut into the stillness of the night.
Her breath hitched, her head turning towards the direction of her window.
Caroline hesitated for a beat before she crept closer, keeping her back to the wall as she peered out at the driveway. He was parked directly underneath a streetlamp, the light illuminating him like a halo, and the irony wasn't lost to her as it shone down on the macabre patch stitched to the back of his leather vest. She wondered what his intentions were, showing up at her house at such an hour, and almost as if he sensed her, Klaus' gaze snapped skywards, right into her bedroom.
A squeak escaped her throat and she slipped back into the shadows.
Was he there to kill her? Snap her neck, or shoot her in the head and leave her bleeding to death?
She gulped, her pulse racing as Matt's warning resonated like a harbinger of doom. No matter how much she didn't believe that Klaus would hurt her, there was always a nagging reminder that he was unpredictable. Another peek had her blood running cold, because he was now sauntering up her pathway as though he owned the property.
However, before Caroline could do anything about it—even if she wasn't so sure what—she heard a click of the door downstairs and a squeak as it opened. Muffled voices reached her ears, and she realized that her mother had been awoken.
"Shit," she whispered.
With as much stealth as she could muster, Caroline snuck out of her bedroom and tiptoed down the stairs. She found an ideal hiding spot and crouched behind a large oak drawer.
"I know you've been hanging around with my daughter, Klaus," Liz informed him tersely, her arms folded across her chest. "What is it that you would want with her?"
Caroline bit her bottom lip; her inner fears had manifested before her.
"I have no ill intentions towards Caroline, sheriff," he replied. "I enjoy her company. Regardless, she's a grown woman; she has every right to do as she wishes."
"Like it or not, Klaus, I'm her mother," the older woman pointedly reminded him, lifting her chin in defiance. "And I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but we have a deal. You keep your business out of the streets, out of public eye, and I'll think about not sending the cavalry in, but if you're using my daughter as leverage against me—"
"I'm not."
Liz regarded him closely, scrutinizing him like she had done so many times over the years. Tension rang high in the air; both individuals set in their ways and their morals, both on different sides of the law, and Caroline hated that she was caught in between.
"Stay away from her," the sheriff warned. "She has nothing to do with this."
"Shouldn't you let her decide that for herself?"
"She's not one of your floozies, Klaus; she's my daughter."
He nodded, a small indulgent smirk at the corner of his lips. "We've established that, yes, and I think you're confusing me with my brother. Kol does have a black book that he uses too often, but I'm fairly certain that you've already figured out that Caroline is different."
"How so?"
"She's more than just my Old Lady."
"Don't you dare insinuate that, Klaus," Liz flared up. "I will not have you reducing her to such scandalous titles. She is not yours for the keeping, and she damn as hell is not yours to use as an accessory at the back of your motorcycle."
For some reason, that only fueled his amusement.
"You really think that low of me?"
"Yes."
He took a bold step forward. "After everything I've done for you?"
Caroline stiffened at the statement.
"Klaus—"
"Does she know?" he growled. "Does Caroline know about that day? Does she know that her own father wanted you dead? That one of your own officers took him down after I knocked you out of the way? That he used you as a beard for his numerous drug deals with the Crescent Wolf Clan?"
The word flew out of her mouth before she could stop it.
"What?"
And then she was facing them, reeling from the confession and unable to fully process what that really meant.
"Caroline—"
She met her mother's eyes. "Is that true?"
"I didn't want to tell you—"
The world was caving in; it had to be, because there was no fucking way that her mom—her own flesh and blood—had been feeding lies to her regarding her own father's death. All this while, she had been told that he was caught in a cross-fire between two rival gangs when the fact of the matter was that he had been an instigator. Caroline felt cheated—deceived by the one person she thought she could trust the most—and suddenly, everything zoomed into a tunnel vision.
"Tell me," she demanded crossing the distance to stand before the older woman. "Everything."
"Honey—"
"No, you know what, mom? Save it." Caroline spat out. "I don't think I want to hear anymore of your lies." Whipping around, she brushed past Klaus on the way out. "We're leaving."
"Of course, love."
They stared out at the rising sun, the sky painted in shades of orange and yellow. Perched on the edge of a rooftop, their legs dangling in midair, they each cradled a steaming cup of coffee in their hands.
Silence.
Just basking in the warmth of a new day.
A slight breeze blew tendrils of her golden hair, giving them a false sense of serenity despite the storm brewing just under the surface. Even in her ruffled state, he couldn't help but find her absolutely stunning. She truly shone in moments like this; when she was most vulnerable, yet she only seemed to rise to the occasion, facing her deception with grace and dignity.
His sister was right.
Klaus took a sip of the hot beverage and waited. He knew that Caroline had about a million-and-one questions lined up for him—probably properly filed and color-coded in her head—and as much as he wasn't looking forward to answering them all, he was aware of how she needed the closure.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He rolled the paper cup between his grasp and licked his lips, carefully weighing his words. "You didn't deserve to hear it from me."
"You could've at least said something," she murmured.
"The time I tried—that first morning I came in for breakfast—you were too busy psychoanalyzing me to listen to anything I have to say."
"Oh, God," she breathed out, pressing a palm to her forehead. "How could I have been so stupid? How did I miss it?"
"Caroline—"
"And you!" She finally turned to face him, her blue eyes welling with tears that he itched to wipe away. "You were there. Why'd you save my mom?"
He shrugged. "Because it wasn't her fight to begin with. She didn't need to be involved. She was just trying to do her job, and she was blindsided by your dad. He sold her out; told CWC that he was playing two sides of the same coin. They believed him, believed his lies—that we were working with the sheriff to take them down and claim their territory—and then he planned to kill her so that they wouldn't find out." Klaus paused to clear his throat. "She shouldn't even have been there. Mikael wanted a straight attack—no officers and no civilians—but someone from CWC must've tipped her off."
"And now your dad's dead too," she rasped. "Oh, my God. They did it, didn't they? Because of my dad?"
His jaw clenched as he glared straight ahead, seeing nothing but the cold hard revenge that he craved just coursing through his veins. "We don't have proof. The job was clean and there were no tracks. I'm not about to send my men into a slaughter if there aren't any solid evidence."
Grave silence fell upon them, both parties mulling the information.
"I'm so sorry."
Klaus gulped down the last of his coffee before throwing the empty cup off the side of the building. "We swore an allegiance to the club, Caroline. Family above all. No matter what. I protect what's mine."
She fidgeted on the spot. "You didn't have to kill anybody."
It was clear she wasn't referring to that night months ago.
"He was an informant," he spat out like vermin on his tongue. "We found some stuff on his phone. The Salvatores are tracing the contacts as we speak."
"Or you could've just kept him alive and interrogated him."
He snickered humorlessly. "It doesn't work that way, love."
"Matt said that you could've killed me just for walking out on you."
The manner at which she spoke about it left him speechless—an eerie calmness that only came with the disturbing notion of acceptance—and a chill ran down his spine.
"I could," he nodded curtly. "I probably should've. By letting you go, I was showing you mercy, and with all this happening, I can't afford that."
"Then why didn't you?"
"You and I both know why."
There was another pregnant pause; a punctuation to their discussion, and Klaus was certain they had moved past it.
"What happens when you've figured out where he's from?" she asked.
He answered without hesitation.
"We go to war."
She called in sick at work only because Klaus was adamant on keeping his eyes on her. He could always send in his prospects to hover about outside the bar, or have them sit in shifts and just watch her all day, but she wasn't having any of that. Old Lady to the President or not, 24-hour surveillance was ridiculous, and if anything, having a bunch of man in patches stalk her would only draw unwanted attention.
However, there was no rationalizing with Klaus, and she wasn't about to defy him a second time, so Caroline had no other options but to ring Alaric up to tell him that she wasn't going to be available for a while. No stranger to the workings of The Originals, her manager had ceded her the leave without question.
"Hey, Caroline?"
She glanced up from the magazine she had been reading to find Olivia Parker—Tyler's newest girl it seemed—leaning against the doorjamb to Klaus' room with a tentative smile on her face.
"Hey," she echoed. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all," Olivia rushed to assure her. "I'm just—Tyler sent me to ask if you wanted or needed anything? Coffee? Some bagels? I'm sort of obligated to get them for you."
"Oh." That was new. "Erm…no, thanks. I think I'm set for a while."
"Sure, just call or text me if you need anything."
Caroline wasn't sure what to make of the development. "Yeah, I will."
The moment Olivia walked away, Rebekah stepped in, looking one part amused and the other part impressed. She flipped her straight-ironed hair over her shoulders and heaved a sigh of boredom as she situated herself next to the still-confused woman.
"There's no harm in taking advantage of your privileges as Klaus' Old Lady, you know," the youngest Mikaelson intoned. "You're his Queen; everybody else are just your loyal subjects."
Caroline arched an eyebrow. "Including you?"
"Don't even think about it. You'd have better luck finding Nik singing Taylor Swift in the shower than me fetching tea for you," she scoffed.
"Where is he, anyway?" Caroline wondered out loud. "I can't believe he dragged me out of going to work only to abandon me here to rot in the clubhouse."
Rebekah's expression turned serious then, all traces of humor wiped out in a blink. "They've found a lead, and that's about all I know. They're bringing another chapter with them, but Klaus doesn't trust that we'd be safe unguarded, so he's sending Marcel and some of his men over right now."
"Who's Marcel?"
"Tall, dark and handsome," she dreamily stated. "The President of the Ohio chapter."
"And he's going on a run just to babysit us?"
"Not us. You."
But he headed out on Sunday, said he'd come home Monday
I stayed up waitin', anticipatin' and pacin' but he was
Chasing paper
"Caught up in the game" that was the last I heard
A/N: So, there you go! Part 3! Not too much fluffy Klaroline stuff, because it's not a fluffy story to begin with, but we delve a bit more on Klaus' back story with Liz Forbes, and about what happened that fateful night. Also, a big thank you to everybody who has read and reviewed and followed and favorited the story! It means a lot to me and my co-writer, especially her (sneakercladbrunette on tumblr) who, throughout this journey was constantly worried and anxious about her parts.
Desiredxwishes: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving a review! I'm glad you like the story so far; it's been a pleasure writing and exploring a genre that's rather challenging to write! Hope you've enjoyed this update! Cheers!
AnnaTom23: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving such lovely comments! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you liked the previous chapter, as well as Klaus' reactions, and yes, I've always loved writing moments with Kol because he's such a wonderful character to write! Hope you've enjoyed this part! Let me know what you think! Cheers!
Justanotherfiveminutes: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and writing such a lengthy review! I really appreciate it; it's given me some warm tingling feelings! I'm glad that you've enjoyed the previous chapter! Quite honestly when my co-writer and I decided to explore this, we had used Sons of Anarchy as a base, and then we began researching the similarities and differences between that and a real life MC, and we found out that not all MCs treat their Old Ladies like trash. They're mostly girlfriends and wives, and in no means in the same category as they would give a hooker. Old Ladies are usually treated with outmost respect because they hold the fate of the club in their hands should they decide to go to the cops. So, yes, technically an MC is quite scary for a woman. Klaus, for most parts, is the President of one of the most feared biker gangs, and he's sort of used to getting what he wants. That, and combined with the fact that he's naturally intense, I guess on some level, Caroline is quite afraid of accidentally crossing the line and finding herself abandoned on the side of the road with a bullet in her head. Not the most ideal situations to be in, or start a relationship on, but to quote Klaus in TVD, "so you've never felt the attraction that comes when someone who's capable of doing terrible things for some reason cares only about you?" So I suppose she is drawn to him in some way, wouldn't you agree? I'm glad you loved the smut, although it's not like a full scene that ends with them lying in post-coital bliss, but I'd prefer giving my readers something to imagine ;P I'm glad you liked Stebekah! Those two are quite fun, and I find Rebekah's character as enjoyable to write as I do Kol! Hope you've enjoyed this part! I'd love you hear what you think! Cheers!
Stempley: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you like the story so far! Hope you've enjoyed this update!
Ashlytorres24: Hello! Thank you so much for reading and leaving such wonderful comments! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you've enjoyed the smut, as well as the fact that Caroline can fit so easily with club. She's such an adaptable character; it's always nice to let her shine! Hope you've enjoyed this update! Cheers!
Klaus love 23: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you liked the story so far! Hope you've enjoyed part 3!
Song used: "Blue Jeans" by Lana Del Ray