A/N: So, here it is; the final installment to this five-parter. It's been an amazing ride, and an honor to be part of this fandom!
Enjoy!
xXx
CeruleanBlues
Blue Jeans
Part 5
You went out every night
And baby that's alright
I told you that no matter what you did I'd be by your side
Caroline fought to resist the sleep that was starting to wash over her body. She blinked against her drooping eyelids and willed herself to stay awake. The adrenalin had worn off and she was left with nothing but the heavy fatigue clouding her conscious.
It had been relatively quiet for a while, save for the occasional thumping of footsteps above her head, and while no matter how hard she concentrated, the ceiling wouldn't cave and subsequently kill a person or two—though that thought alone was disturbing—Caroline tried desperately to remember a Cliff's note's version of her mother's hour-long rant on abduction situations. She hoped to identify the number of people involved, weighing her odds of survival if she retaliated, but other than Silas and Camille, nobody else had paid her a visit.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang that startled her, and before Caroline could discern what it was, a commotion broke out upstairs. Voices grew in volume, though the words were muffled, and the blonde strained to listen through the layers of concrete. She didn't hear any gunshots or any telltale signs of an actual brawl, so she chalked it up to hot-tempered bikers being unable to solve disagreements without shouting or punching each other in the face.
She really shouldn't be laughing, but Caroline reckoned she could use the twisted sense of humor.
"Damn it, Marcel! How could you not have known that she's the Sheriff's daughter?"
Caroline jerked her head towards the door. "Camille," she whispered, suddenly worried for the other woman.
In all honesty, Caroline wasn't sure why she cared at all; the girl was an Old Lady of a traitor, no matter how nice she had been earlier on.
"You promised you wouldn't harm her!" Camille shrieked. "Why'd you want to kill her now?"
Her entire body went numb.
"No," Caroline breathed. "Oh, my God, no."
Cause Imma ride or die
Whether you fail or fly
Well shit, at least you tried.
"She's not there, Klaus."
His tightly-clenched fist came down upon the solid oak table as he lashed out. "Fuck! Are you sure, Sheriff?"
A tired sigh came from the other end of the phone line. "Yes, I'm sure," Liz Forbes retorted testily. "I was there. The place was empty, but we've uncovered traces of Methamphetamine. Are you certain that it was the right address?"
"I'm insulted that you'd take me for a fucking imbecile," he snapped. "No literate club would be cooking in broad daylight if that place wasn't a secret hideout."
"They were one step ahead, then," she told him tersely. "They knew that we were coming and must've cleared out before we arrived. It was a hasty job because they've left the place in a sloppy mess. No personal belongings, though, no bike and no cars. It's impossible to tell if Caroline had even been there."
"Shit!" Pacing the length of the room, he quelled the pressing desire to raise hell in his own backyard. Someone needed to pay for their incompetence, and as the clock ticked by and he was no closer to finding her, Klaus was at his tipping point. "What about leads? Have you interrogated anybody? Any of those bastards that I've mentioned to you?"
"None that we've caught so far," the Sheriff informed him curtly. There were sounds of paper shuffling in the background, followed by a long drawn-out sigh. "Klaus, anybody associated to Silas wouldn't be stupid enough to parade themselves out in the open. They know you're coming for them; they probably know by now that the police are on their tails, and if your assumptions are right—that the CWC are involved—then those bikers would be smart to keep their mouths shut and their heads down, but we can't be sure about that. I'm not risking my men by barging into their territory; we've had enough threats against the department already as it is without causing some unnecessary stir."
"I refuse to believe that that's the best you can do. This is Caroline we're talking about," he spat out.
"Do you think I don't know that?" Liz lashed out. "She's my daughter, Klaus, and must I remind you that this is your Goddamn fault. These people are after you. If you had stayed away from her like I told you to—"
An ashtray became the unfortunate victim of his ire as he slammed it against the wall and smashed it into a million pieces. "Fuck, Liz," he fumed. "You think I didn't try? Fuck, it was the first thing that I tried to do, but bloody hell, have you met her? Have you seen the way she smiles, her strength, her stubbornness, her light? I'd march up to Silas right now and rip his heart out if I knew where the hell he was, and he would pay immensely for even laying one finger on her."
A pregnant pause fell on the other end of the line.
"Do you love her?"
But when you walked out that door, a piece of me died
I told you I wanted more, but that's not what I had in mind
He sucked in a sharp intake of air, the emotions lodging in his throat. All his life, Klaus had been told by Mikael that love was a weakness; that it was a tool used to be exploited at the most convenient moments, ammunition to be fired for personal gain, and so he refused to allow himself the privilege of admitting his feelings for her. Instead, he hid behind his possessiveness, hiding behind the fact that he cared more for her than he should on a pretense of keeping her safe. Now, confronted by a question, he realized that he didn't have an answer.
"If you do, Klaus, this changes everything."
I just want it like before
We were dancing all night
He floundered for a response; the device pressed hot against his ear, knuckles white from gripping too hard as his jaw clenched.
"Klaus?"
"I'll find her, Liz, I promise."
The door banged open before he could reply, and he spun around to find Kol and Stefan barging in, dragging a bloodied semi-conscious man between them. Judging by the amount of damage done, Klaus reckoned the bastard had it easy with just a busted nose and perhaps a broken rib or two. His boys were keeping the cockroach alive for a reason; and from the smirk on his Vice President's face, Klaus could already guess why.
"I'll call you later, Sheriff," he spoke at last. "Something just came up."
"Klaus, no, you can't—"
He cut her off, disconnecting the line before tossing the phone carelessly aside. "Well, what do we have here?"
"Be still your beating heart, dear brother," Kol drawled in that lazy way of his. "We've brought you a little something from Silas' pool of minions. A prospect; he's nothing much, but maybe he'll be persuaded to provide us with some information."
Klaus stalked over to their hostage, each step a deliberate placement of his foot to cover the distance it would take until he was standing directly in front of the keeling sod. He looked young—possibly fresh out of high school and in need of a thrill, so he became the one thing his parents hated—and it wasn't much of a surprise that he had found himself in such a predicament. Grabbing a handful of the prospect's shirt, Klaus hauled the swaying lad closer, dislodging him from Kol and Stefan's hold to bring them nose-to-nose.
"Where is she?" he snarled.
The fool lolled his head to the side, dripping blood from the cut on his temple and one eye sealed shut as he peered through the other. "Who?"
"The girl, Caroline," he growled, tugging him nearer. "Where the fuck is she?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, man," he muttered drowsily. "I don't know any fucking girl."
No thinking twice.
Klaus drew his fist back and hurled it down across the fucker's face. The distinct sound of bones cracking was deeply satisfying, as did the sight of the prospect sprawled out by his feet and struggling to recover from the blow, but it did nothing to placate his boiling fury. If anything, the violence only spurred him on. Squatting down next to the slumped figure, the older Mikaelson seized at a clump of copper-colored hair and gave it a sharp yank.
"Where did Silas take her?"
"I don't know," the prospect choked out.
The gun was out of the holster and pointed to the simpering boy's throat before he could utter another worthless lie. "Let's try this again, shall we? Where is Caroline?"
"I don't fucking know, alright?" he wheezed. "Silas took off with her, didn't tell us where he was headed to and just said that he'd be back."
Klaus shoved the muzzle deeper into his flesh. "Alone?"
"I don't know," he hissed. "I'm just a fucking prospect."
"Do you have his number?"
"Only full-patched members get his number."
It was definitely not the answer he was looking for. Turning back to Stefan, Klaus barked out an order. "Search for his phone. Call every single fucking person on there. We'll see whether he's telling the truth."
The Sergeant-At-Arms proceeded to methodically pat the rival prospect down, leaving no pockets uncombed, and eventually extracted the device from a hidden compartment in the boy's leather vest. As Stefan began screening all the numbers, Klaus leaned in to dish out a threat. "I won't hesitate to cut your tongue off and blow your fucking brains out if I find anything on there."
"You won't."
"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you, mate," Kol interjected while he lit up a cigarette. "He's killed for far less, and you're too ballsy for your own good."
"I'm not a snitch, damn it."
Klaus sneered. "Such loyalties to a fucking coward. What does he want with The Originals? Our territory? Because he knows better than to try and challenge our authority here in Mystic Falls. Is that why he's suddenly so chummy with those bastards, the Labonairs? Wriggle his way into their ranks while the rest of you whore yourselves to two clubs?"
The prospect had the audacity to snicker through all the blood and gore marring his features. "Since when are you so threatened by the thought of The Five and CWC merging, Klaus? Your fucking territory is gone. We'll have no problems taking Ohio from you now that you have one chapter down."
He couldn't have known that.
"Where did you hear that piece of bullshit from?" Kol blustered. "Our Ohio chapter is still standing proud."
"Perhaps you should be careful of the company you keep."
Son of a bitch.
Klaus' eyes snapped up to meet those of his brother's, because the pathetic sod couldn't have possibly meant what he was implying, not with his precious life on the line. He was baiting them; he had to be, trying to throw them off and rattle their foundations. The Originals had always prided themselves in being the most stable biker groups there were out there. Conflicts amongst the members were rare to none; everybody got on splendidly, and those sparse moments of arguments were always almost immediately distinguished. As a club, they couldn't afford any friction; their lives depended on one another. For a puny rival prospect to insinuate a rat in their family was tantamount to being stabbed in the back.
And Klaus took betrayal very seriously.
For a split second, he contemplated putting a bullet into the punk's skull just for speaking out of terms; his finger was already on the trigger, but something made him stop. Instead, Klaus delivered a hard whack to the back of his head and knocked him out.
"Tie him up," he instructed his second-in-command. "We might need him for later.
Then they took you away, stole you out of my life
You just need to remember...
It was hours later and nobody had checked up on her. The basement was freezing, her throat was dry, her legs were asleep and her muscles were positively screaming from disuse, and fuck those bikers if they had conveniently forgotten she was down there, which, of course, was hard to believe considering she was there for one purpose and one purpose only.
She was Klaus bait.
The fact that she was the daughter of a cop was probably her sole saving grace. Marcel and Camille had spent a good amount of time arguing—yelling over each other, really—about the fate of her existence, and eventually, he seemed to have relented. Either that, or he had stabbed her to death because it had gone eerily quiet upstairs. Time had escaped her; she couldn't tell if it was morning or night. It felt like a bad case of jetlag that she couldn't snap out of.
Her ears perked up, catching the imperceptible scuffling sound, followed by a soft creak as the door opened just enough for a figure to slip through. Caroline squinted towards the shadowed corner, but the light footsteps descending down the stairs made her sigh in relief, and as Camille approached, she realized that the other blonde was nervous and apprehensive.
"Hey, you need to be really quiet, alright?" she whispered, kneeling behind her to work at hastily untying the ropes around her wrists.
"What's going on?" Caroline asked in a low murmur.
When her arms were finally released, Camille wasted no time in freeing constraints around her ankles next. "Marcel's out of control," she muttered disdainfully and tugged a bit too roughly on the ropes. Caroline winced, but nodded when the other woman shot her an apologetic look. "I'm getting you out of here. Can you run?"
Fuck, she wasn't even sure if she could stand, let alone walk at all, but her survival was at stake, and she wasn't about to gamble on Camille's life as well. There was no doubt in her mind that Marcel would have both their heads if they got caught. As much as she didn't fully trust the other woman—whatever the reason, she was helping her escape—Caroline knew that she had no other choice.
"I'll manage."
"Good, now here's the plan. Marcel's gone out to meet with the Labonairs, but there are two prospects upstairs. One of them is guarding the door," she explained. "I'm going to distract him, and I'll need you to take the back exit through the kitchen. It'll lead you into the garage. You're going to sneak in there, get into the truck and keep your head down. I'll tell those idiots that I'm heading out for a quick grocery stop, and then I'll drive you back to Mystic Falls, alright?"
They had reached the top of stairs, and Caroline reached out to stop the other blonde. "Oh, hey," she said, looking Camille right in the eyes. "Thank you. I know you can get in a lot of trouble for this—"
"Stop, we'll talk later, after we're out of here. I'm going first. Wait five minutes and then come out, okay?"
Caroline silently bobbed her head, and then Camille was out the door. Seconds that ticked by felt like an eternity as Caroline patiently waited, her pulse racing from the beginnings of an adrenalin rush, slightly weak in the knees, and it was only the fear of tripping down those damn stairs and dying, that kept her upright long enough to count down the last minute. Pressing her ear against the wooden panel, she made sure that there weren't voices outside before sucking in a lungful of stale air and slinking into the hallway. She kept her back pressed tightly against the wall, inching around the corner, and after a quick scan around the kitchen, Caroline darted towards the closed door just as she heard Camille's over-exaggerated laughter ringing in the house, signaling of their close presence. Without another thought, she bolted into the garage and wrenched the door to the passenger side open and climbed into the vehicle. As best as possible, she squeezed into the tiny space between the front and back seat, curling her body just in the nick of time.
"You really shouldn't be drinking so much coffee, Thierry," Camille said silkily as she hopped into the truck. "And please, try not to hurt yourself too much while I'm out, alright? I'm not your freaking baby-sitter."
"Awww…" the man pouted childishly. "But you love playing nurse, don't you?"
"Fuck off, Thierry."
The engine rumbled to life, and then they were pulling out of the garage and speeding down the road. Caroline emerged from her hiding spot and moved to sit upfront with the other blonde, and it was only as she saw the houses and trees pass by did she release the breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.
Tyler's Old Lady proved to be helpful when she tipped them off that the Labonairs were staying at a swanky hotel a half hour's drive out of town where she worked. She had personally checked them in, but Klaus wasn't looking for a blood bath. He was there to ensure that the low-life prospect wasn't fucking with him. Accusing a member for being a snitch was a crime all on its own—one that will definitely not go unpunished if it wasn't true—but he needed to see it for himself.
"Why aren't we going in there and blowing their asses off?" Damon grunted. "The Labonairs being here is suspicious enough. We can take them out on accounts of trespassing in our territory."
"Don't be an imbecile, Salvatore," Kol snarked. "You need to stop thinking with your dick. Going in there guns blazing won't do us any good. We're here to catch the fucking rat in the club."
"You honestly believe that douche, Klaus?" Stefan asked. "That someone's playing for both sides?"
"I don't like the idea any more than you do," the President growled stormily. "But nobody in The Five should know that we've sent our entire Ohio chapter down here, especially a fucking prospect. Nobody else would know our official head count but our own. Besides, the Labonairs being here is suspicious enough. Not even those bastards are stupid enough to cross our territory without expecting repercussions. Someone is definitely keeping them safe."
"Who do you think it is?"
Without tearing his sharpened gaze from the hotel lobby entrance, Klaus inwardly seethed as he pictured a shadowed silhouette to pummel and raise hell upon, and he fucking hated the fact that he couldn't put a face to the culprit because he couldn't for the life of him fathom any of his brothers betraying him like that. It was a difficult pill to swallow, and every single time he thought about it felt like a stake had been driven and twisted into his spine.
"At this point of time, it could be the fucking Queen of England for all I care," he scoffed. "Whoever it is would pay a lifetime of misery, he or she would only hope that I'd just killed them in the first place."
A distant thundering of a motorcycle caught the men's attention and they watched raptly as it rolled down the street, deafening in the stillness of the night and coming to a halt along the curb. The low illumination made it hard to discern the make and license plate of the bike. Klaus felt his body turn rigid with dreaded expectancy when he saw that the rider wasn't wearing his colors, not giving his identity away, even after he had taken off his helmet.
That was until he began making his way towards the revolving door.
"Son of a bitch!" Damon hissed. "Is that—is that who I fucking think it is?"
Kol was on the verge of leaping over the low wall of their hiding spot, only to be reasonably held back by Stefan's firm grip on his leather vest, which was a smart move on the man's part because Klaus certainly wouldn't have stopped his brother from beating the traitor to a bloody pulp. "That shit-eating bastard."
Restraining his own burning urges, the President curled his fingers into clenched fists, his nails digging into his palms, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around Marcel Fucking Gerard's throat and watch the life drain from his person.
"Remind me again why we're not blowing his fucking head up right now?" Damon retorted. "Or should we tie him to the back of our bikes stark naked and drag him down the streets to make an example out of him?"
"No," Klaus snapped. "This doesn't mean anything. I won't accept anything until I've seen or heard a confession out of the horse's mouth."
"He could be here to gather information about Caroline," Stefan, ever the rational and levelheaded one in the group, suggested. "We don't know what his motives are at the moment, but we can't be too hasty to jump to conclusions. He's our brother, for fuck's sake."
"He's a traitor," Tyler sneered.
"We don't know that," the younger Salvatore replied. "But perhaps we need to give Marcel the benefit of the doubt."
"You know what your problem is, little bro?" Damon rhetorically questioned as he arched an eyebrow condescendingly. "You're too trusting. You only want to see the good in people and all that bullshit, but wake up, Stefan. We're a bunch of outlaws; we're not all puking rainbows and unicorns from our asses. You love spilling a bit of blood as much as anybody else here does, and Marcel isn't any different."
"I don't want to go in there and fuck things up if it turns out that he is in fact actually in there with the Labonairs to gather Intel."
"If that's so then why didn't he just fucking tell us? Share his plans and save us this trouble?"
"Should we go in there, then?" Kol interjected, tired of listening to the siblings bicker.
"No need, guys," Tyler said, holding his cellphone up to show the rest a grainy-looking image of two men and a woman. "Olivia just sent this to me. She can't hear what they're talking about but they seem kind of chummy, don't you think?"
Damon recoiled, his face pinching in contempt. "Is Marcel sipping on expensive champagne now, too? Shall we offer him a cigar to go with that posh new look?"
"Shut the fuck up, Damon," Stefan muttered darkly.
"Do you think he knows where Caroline is?" Kol wondered out loud.
Klaus glared daggers at the layers of plaster and concrete separating him and the episode unfolding in the hotel, wishing he could burn a hole through and set the building on fire.
"There's only one way to find out," he managed through gritted teeth. "We wait."
"Here," Camille dropped a granola bar and a pop tart into Caroline's lap. "It's not much, but it should hold you up until we reach. There's a bottle of water somewhere; we won't be able to make any pit stops, so it'll just have to do."
"It's fine," Caroline told her graciously. "Thank you. I mean, you really didn't need to help me—"
"Look, Caroline, I've been Marcel's Old Lady for three years, and yes, I love him and I've long accepted my position in the club, but that doesn't mean I enjoy watching him betray his brothers," she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "When Mikael made a decision to open the Ohio chapter, Klaus was the one who had convinced his dad to make Marcel the President instead of heading it himself; said he wanted to give Marcel a chance. He was beyond thrilled, of course; loved everything that came with being the President—the power, the authority—but all that made him greedy and he wanted more. Marcel didn't want to control just the Ohio chapter anymore."
"Oh, my God," Caroline gasped, the snack falling from her fingers. "Marcel ordered the hit on Mikael!"
Camille kept her eyes peeled on the road, her facial expression stoic and devoid of emotion, but Caroline could tell by the way her knuckles were growing white just how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. The lack of denial was all the confirmation that Caroline needed, and the shock from the revelation rocked her to the core.
"He made a deal with Silas and the Labonairs," the other blonde continued. "Once they've taken Klaus and the Mystic Falls chapter down, it wouldn't be difficult for Marcel to round up the other chapters, and then he was going to form his own MC by merging CWC and The Five. Together, they were going to overthrow all of The Originals' territories and claim them as their own. He was going to be King."
"But that's—that's—how could he?" Caroline fumed. "After all the club has done for him!"
Camille's gaze flickered briefly to meet hers. "Rebekah told you, then?"
"About his incarceration after the drug bust and those manslaughter charges?" she spat out venomously. "Yeah, and how Elijah took the fall instead because the Mikaelsons treated him practically like their own son and brother. I can't believe he'd fucking do this after they had saved his pathetic ass!"
"Marcel was about to kill you, Caroline, and you don't deserve it. Besides, your mom's the town sheriff, and what he's doing now is already raising so many red flags with the law enforcers. I don't want to risk jail time, and truthfully, Rebekah had been there for me once or twice when Marcel roughed me up a bit and then threw me in some dirt, that shit-bag—"
"Shit bag?"
The corner of Camille's lips twitched into a smirk. "Shut up and eat, Blondie."
"Fuck that," Caroline sputtered. "You're blonde, too."
"Look, once we get to Mystic Falls, I'm dropping you off at the border."
Caroline paused mid-chew. "You're going back?"
"I have to," Camille stated matter-of-factly with a shrug. "I live there."
"He's going to kill you, Camille."
"It'll be worth it."
It was heartbreaking to witness the resolve and acceptance of a doomed fate; of the fact that the other blonde was already aware of the consequences of her actions—knew that there was absolutely no way in hell she would survive this—and Caroline choked on her own emotions.
"No, there has to be another way," Caroline insisted vehemently. "We'll go to my mom, we'll go to Klaus, and we'll protect you. I swear, I won't let Marcel hurt you, and when this is over, you'll be free. Start over; have a life that you want."
"I'll never have the life that I want, Caroline." Anguish and regret crossed over her otherwise impassive features. "This is the end of the road for me."
"What are you talking about?"
The other woman drew in a shuddering breath. "I killed someone. I'm a murderer."
Caroline froze. "What?"
"There was a girl. Her name was Katherina Petrova, and she was Elijah's Old Lady. Three months after he was incarcerated, she planned on pleading witness to Marcel's murder, to go to the cops and tell them the truth. Marcel couldn't have that, and so he threatened to kill my mom if I didn't kill her." Her lips trembled at the admission, the shame and guilt weighing down on her shoulders, crushing her by the second. "That night, when I shot her, she didn't even look surprised. It was as if she knew, and in her final dying moments she pleaded for me to let Elijah know that he would've made a great father to their child."
Caroline's blood ran cold. "She was pregnant."
"None of the Mikaelsons suspected it was me, but I'd killed a mother and her baby, Caroline," Camille choked out. "Being imprisoned for life wouldn't even come close to atoning for what I've done. I can't take back what I did, and I know from that day on that my time here is limited. But you, you can stop this before it happens."
The welcome sign was now within sights, and before Caroline could fully wrap her head around everything Camille had revealed to her, the female had pulled over at the side of the road. There was a blanket of silence that befell upon them, until she heard a click and realized that her seatbelt had been unfastened for her.
"You need to go now, Caroline. I can't allow anybody to see me here."
Numbly, she nodded, blinking back the tears pooling at the corner of her cornflower blue eyes. "Thank you."
"Go."
"He's leaving," Tyler informed them after reading a text message from Olivia. "The Labonairs are still inside, though."
Klaus nodded grimly. "Good. Damon, bring the truck around; we're going after him," he commanded, pulling out his cellphone to call the man he once respected. It rang a good couple of times, and just as Marcel stepped out of the hotel lobby, he fished the device out of his pocket and answered without a moment's hesitation.
"Ah, Niklaus," he greeted theatrically. "What can I do for you this lovely evening?"
"Where the hell are you?" the President demanded as pleasantly as he could muster, all the while watching the other man like a hawk. "Have you split again without telling me?"
"I've just lost my chapter, Klaus, all for that Old Lady of yours," he stiffly countered, the lack of mourning in his tone palpable, even without the smokescreen of his treason. "I think I'm entitled to a little time alone to work on my priorities."
"What happened with your chapter had nothing to do with Caroline," Klaus spoke with all the professionalism and neutrality of a leader. "It's about the club and what it means to all of us. You wanted that position, Marcel, and you had it. You wore that patch on your back and you swore an allegiance. What happened to your chapter was a result of greed over our territory in Mystic Falls, and you bloody well know that."
"My boys and I were here because you needed us to babysit that whore of yours—"
"Watch your tongue, Marcel."
Klaus narrowed his eyes as the other man began agitatedly pacing back and forth on the walkway. "You could've just left a couple of prospects behind while you scour the earth in search of Silas, but you insisted that I bring everybody."
"I merely instructed that you came down here with a few of your best men. Hauling the entire lot was your misjudgment. Why such stupidity? Surely Mikael taught you better than that."
"Don't you dare insinuate that this is my fault, Klaus!"
"So then tell me, my dear friend, what the fuck are you doing standing in front of a hotel in Covington?"
Klaus saw the instant it dawned on Marcel's face that his location was compromised; the realization that he was truly fucked. His head swiveled from side to side, eyes wide alert and darting at every available angle, deer caught in the headlights as he tried in vain to search for the telltale signs that any of them were in the vicinity.
A twisted smile formed at the corner of Klaus' lips. "Did you send my regards to the Labonairs?"
"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Klaus," Marcel blurted out.
"On the contrary, I think I know exactly what I'm talking about." His tone had taken a dip, lethal and more calculative now that he had the man cornered. "Where is Caroline, Marcel?"
"Again with that little blonde bitch of yours. I'm starting to think she means more to you than the club. What is it that's so special about the tart that you're going through so much trouble just to find her?"
Klaus' entire body quaked with barely-contained rage. "Give her back to me."
"You won't find her, Klaus."
"Then I suggest you run as far and as fast as you can, lad, because when I catch you, you're going to pray to the Gods that you had never met me."
The mobile clattered to the ground, and for a fleeting moment, Marcel stayed rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything until reality caught up to him and he scrambled to mount his Harley. Damon pulled up with the truck just as Marcel sped off.
"Don't fucking lose him, Salvatore."
"Not on my watch, Mikaelson."
Marcel's head start was pitiful at best; traffic was abysmal in such a one-pony town and it didn't take much to chase the bastard towards the border. Klaus had to chuckle sardonically at such a predictable outcome, so typical of the other man to flee back to Ohio where he thinks that he would be able to hide, but such foolishness of Marcel to underestimate the older Mikaelson's abilities. After all, Mikael had initially entrusted him with that chapter before relinquishing it to Marcel instead. Klaus knew every nook and cranny of that area just as much—if not more—than the fallen president himself.
"Shit, the git's actually daft enough to skip town?" Kol sniggered.
"Marcel is cunning, but he is also impulsive," Klaus tersely reminded them. "He knows where Caroline is, so he's using that as leverage against me."
"For all we know, this could be one elaborate set-up to lure us out of town," Stefan warned. "What if we're just falling into his trap?"
Klaus released a steady stream of air between his lips. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. I promised her mother I'd find her, and I won't stop at anything until I do, even if it kills me."
"You're in love with this girl, aren't you, Nik?"
His brother's words resounded in his ears, his conversation with Liz Forbes still fresh and haunting him in more ways than he could care to admit because when it came down to it, love had always been a foreign concept; something that he didn't quite grasp the meaning of until it was presented to him in a silver platter.
"This isn't about me, Kol."
"Look, Klaus, if we're all heading for our deaths this very moment, I sure hope that it's true," Damon piped up. "Because I'm going to jump out of this very truck if you're not doing this as some sort of grand romantic gesture."
"Stop!" Stefan barked out all of a sudden. "Damon, stop the truck!"
The tires squealed as he slammed his foot down on the brake pedal, bringing the vehicle to a lurching halt. "Jesus fucking Christ, Stefan!"
"That's Marcel's bike," the younger sibling pointed out to the abandoned Harley by the side of the road. "But where the hell is he?"
"Son of a bitch! Get out!" Klaus ordered, throwing the door open. "Everybody! Out! Now! Find him!"
An ear-splitting scream pierced through the air; a female, and immediately he stilled. A cold chill ran down his spine as he recognized whom it was. Momentarily rendered catatonic, he was engulfed in a surge of fear and panic.
"Caroline."
For the first time in his life, Klaus Mikaelson was truly afraid. Instinct kicked in, and before he could even stop to think, he was tearing down the road and charging towards the outskirts of the woods. He didn't bother to check if his men were behind, his feet pounding on the ground, leaves crunching and twigs snapping beneath his boots as he raced past. Everything was a blur of silhouettes, the length of the tress illuminated only by the moonlight alone, and he had no fucking clue where he was going—led only by pure intuition alone—but all he knew was that he had to get to her.
Another shrill outcry sent his guts twisting in agony, a reaction so strong that he narrowly avoided tripping over his own two feet. His lungs were burning, legs pumping and muscles protesting as he strained his ears for signs of her, and in the distance, he heard a scuffle, followed by the stifled sounds of a struggle, and it nearly brought him to his knees.
"Caroline!"
There was a sharp yelp before her sweet voice called out loud and clear. "Klaus!"
He burst out of the tree line into a clearing and skidded to a stop.
The silver of the moonlight fell upon her face, pale and porcelain and streaked with dirt; pallid from the traumatic ordeals she had endured the past couple of days. Her hair fell limply over her shoulders, lacking the usual shine and bounce that he loved so much, but nevertheless, she was still so beautiful to him. However, when his eyes met hers, those baby blue orbs blown wide with fear, it brought reality crashing back with the force of a freight train. His hardened gaze shifted imperceptibly to the gun pointed to her temple, to the finger on the trigger, to the man trapping her to his chest; his arm wrapped tightly around her torso. Klaus glared daggers at the other man, his hands balling into fists.
I will love you 'til the end of time
I would wait a million years
Promise you'll remember that you're mine
Baby can you see through the tears
"She's definitely a feisty one, Mr. President," Marcel barbed. "Tell me, Caroline, how'd you manage to escape that basement? Did my bitch of an Old Lady help you? She did, didn't she? That ungrateful wench."
"Let her go, Marcel," he demanded. "Your problem is with me. Leave her out of this."
"See, that's where you're wrong, old friend. You currently possess something that I desire, and right this second, I have something that you obviously care so much about," he pointed out. "I think it's not that hard to figure out how this goes."
Klaus inched closer. "My territory for her life, is that it?"
"It's not that hard of a decision, Klaus," Marcel taunted in a patronizing tone.
"What's to stop you from killing her, anyway?"
His responding smirk held only malicious intent. "You're right. So here's what you're going to do: I'd like you to strip off your colors right now and burn it in front of me, and then you're going to go back to the club and give your boys an ultimatum. They can either leave Mystic Falls and join you in exile far away from here, or they can pledge their allegiance to me. In five hours, I want every trace of The Originals gone. Then, and only then, will I return your beloved here, safe and sound. I give you my word."
"Why are you doing this? Haven't the club been good to you? Isn't being chapter President enough?
"Because unlike you, I have my sights on much bigger things than a measly chapter in the least profitable state of fucking Ohio. I have cops up my ass practically every damn week," Marcel spat out bitterly. "I suffered more losses in the past month alone than I ever had in the years I've been there."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Klaus snapped, taking another step forward. "I've been receiving reports on how your chapter have been giving problems and putting us in the spotlight. I didn't call you down just to guard the clubhouse, Marcel, I called you down so that we can fix this mess of yours, but you've decided to betray me instead; betray my father, the man who took you under his wing and made you who you are."
At the mention of Mikael, Klaus saw Caroline flinch, her mouth opening and closing, though there were no words. It was subtle, but it was enough confirmation that he needed. Distractedly, he heard the arrival of the rest of his men, but all he could see was the scene of the crime that fateful evening—his dad sprawled on the side of the road, pooling in his own blood from bullet wounds to his neck and skull—and it snatched the air right out of his lungs.
"You were behind it, weren't you?" he harshly declared. "You hired the hit on Mikael."
The air grew thick with tension, all eyes on the man still holding an innocent woman at gunpoint. Klaus was fast growing impatient, and the storm was already brewing past containment. Already on the verge of exploding, the only thing keeping him from pulling out his own pistol and putting a bullet between Marcel's eyes, was the fact that Caroline was still in the line of fire.
"Well, did you?" It was Kol who broke the silence. "Did you fucking kill my father?"
Marcel finally tore his eyes away from Klaus' devastated face.
"He was just collateral damage."
"Son of a bitch—"
Klaus caught his brother in the nick of time before he could charge forward, Caroline's terrified whimper slicing through his anguish-riddled soul. The younger Mikaelson fought against his restraints, but the vice-like grip his older sibling had around his waist proved his efforts in vain.
"Don't, Kol."
"You fucking bastard!" he fumed. "I'll have your head on a stake, or so help me God—"
"He was just collateral damage," Marcel shrugged, holding no remorse over his actions, and the coldness behind his words hit Klaus harder than he thought possible.
"He was your father too."
"No, he wasn't," the man replied in disdain. "Because no matter how hard I tried, I'll never be a Mikaelson, but then I realized that I didn't need to be a Mikaelson to rule my own world, my own club, my own territory. I'm nothing like you or your dad, Klaus. I'm better."
"You're a fucking coward," Damon grunted.
"Well then, maybe I'll kill Caroline right here just to prove you wrong."
"No!"
A gunshot rang high in the night.
A body dropped to the ground.
A heart stopped.
Another still beating.
A quiet sob broke through, and then everything was a blur.
"Caroline…"
Love you more
Than those bitches before
Say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember, oh baby ooh
Rays of sunlight spilled through the blinds, spreading warmth into the room as he blinked against the brightness. With a groan, Klaus blindly reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and moved to sit up until he noticed the familiar weight draped comfortably over his chest. There was an arm casually thrown across his torso, one toned leg slotted between his, and while the mess of blonde curls were tickling his nose, he couldn't help but chuckle at the contentment bubbling in his chest as tucked her closer to his side.
Caroline stirred a moment later, mumbling incoherently into his shoulder and he couldn't resist dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"Good morning," he murmured.
She hummed, burrowing deeper into his embrace. "Morning."
"How are you feeling, love?"
"Sore," she complained. "You really didn't need to tackle me to the ground last night."
"I apologize, sweetheart, it was just reflex. If your mother hadn't arrived in time with her team, though—"
"Don't," she interrupted solemnly, lifting her head to stare up at him, those clear baby blues seeing right through his insecurities. "It's over now. Marcel is dead and you won."
Klaus heaved a long drawn-out sigh. "I wish it hadn't come to that."
"Hey, where's that ruthless, unrelenting Big Bad that I know of?" Tenderly, she cradled his cheeks between her soft palms and placed a chaste peck to his lips. "He arranged the hit on your dad, worked with CWC and The Five to set up my kidnapping so that it looked like an ambush, and then tried to kill me, all for his greed to snatch away your territory. If Camille hadn't helped me escape, I probably would be dead this very moment. A day ago, you would've sent someone to their graves just for speaking out of terms."
He frowned and averted his gaze up to the ceiling. "I may be a heartless bastard, but I'm not without my humanity. What Marcel did was unforgivable; I would have gutted him inside out for betraying the club, but he was still a brother to me—someone I cared deeply about—and to a lot of us too."
"You can't make excuses for people's mistakes, Klaus, just like how I won't make excuses for yours," she said. "Marcel was a grown man. He could think for himself; he could account for his actions, and clearly he made all of his decisions on his own. I love that you're rethinking your life choices, but what happened was all on him."
"It shouldn't have been you, Caroline!"
There it was then; the root of the matter brought to light.
The sole reason why he hadn't been able to sleep a wink or take his eyes off her face the entire night.
"Klaus—"
That was all it took for his carefully erected walls to crumble, and he hated it.
Hated how weak he became around her.
Loathed his entire being for the person he was, for the person he was made to be, for the person his father wanted him to be.
Hated how the mere thought of Caroline being in danger again tore him up in shreds; he never wanted to experience a repeat of such helplessness, especially when it came to her.
Bolting upright, Klaus released a shuddering breath as he ran his trembling fingers through the mussed curls atop his head. "It can't happen again. I won't allow it!"
"I believe you, Klaus, and I'm sure we'll get through it the next time—"
"You don't get it, do you?" he burst out, jumping to his feet, not even caring that he was only clad in his boxers. "There will be no next time. You need to get out of here; out of this shit hole that you're settling for before you get yourself killed because of me."
As she sat up in bed, the wrinkled sheets fell from her chest and pooled around her waist, exposing her gloriously naked breasts, and fuck, it was sending his mind in a tailspin. Beams of sunlight grazed her curves, highlighting every angle and every line, and for a split second, he marveled at her unparalleled beauty, momentarily stunned speechless.
"Did you just say that to me, Klaus?" she bit out. "Seriously?"
"It's for the best, love."
"Whose?"
"Yours."
"No, it's fucking not!"
Tossing the covers aside, Caroline rose to her full height—absolutely starkers—and marched stalwartly up to him. Klaus could only watch on dumbly as she approached because, fuck, was she absolutely stunning like that; the fiery defiance blazing in her eyes, the unwavering stubbornness coursing through her veins, the headstrong stand between right and wrong, the way she challenged his decisions, his ethics, him.
"Settling?" she repeated indignantly. "You think I'm settling?"
"Look around you, Caroline," he gestured with his arms outstretched. "Is this really what you want? This life with me, it's dangerous. You almost got yourself fucking killed last night—"
"But I didn't—"
"You could have been!" he seethed, intruding on her personal space, his nose barely inches from hers.
She bristled, but otherwise held her ground. "But I didn't! God, why can't you get it through that thick skull of yours? I know who you are, I know what you do, and I know what the stakes are, but I chose to be with you regardless. It's my own decision, Klaus, and you need to understand that."
"Why?"
"What the hell do you mean 'why'?"
Silently, he studied her angelic face, committing each feature, each line and angle to memory, knowing that he had come so very close to losing her before. After the nightmare that she had been forced to endure, he had feared that she would march right out of his life and bid him good riddance—and he would've deserved every bit of her resentment—but when she had insisted on going back with him instead of her own mother, Klaus had felt like the world's luckiest bastard.
"Why did you choose me?"
Something in his voice made her eyes soften, and then it was her turn to close the gap. Automatically, his hands sought her out, latching onto the swell of her hips to hold her in place, the near-possessive action prompting an enchanting smile from her.
"Because I believe that there's goodness in you."
The lump in his throat grew ten-fold. "How could you possibly think that?"
"Because I've seen it," she told him earnestly. "Because I've caught myself wishing that I could forget all the horrible things that you've done. Because I know that you're in love with me." His heart stuttered. "And anybody capable of love is capable of being saved."
Fuck his life.
She was perfect.
Powerless to resist any longer, Klaus surged forward, crashing into her. Their lips collided, ardent and rough; kisses fervently exchanged as restless hands wandered over bare skin. She felt exquisite beneath his fingers, so pliant to his touches and so responsive to every little thing he did. Stroking and caressing, his blunt nails raked down the length of her spine and reached to cup the pillowy mounds of her rear.
"Hang on tight, love," he grated out.
Without taking his eyes off his woman, Klaus hoisted her up; those long legs wrapped deliciously around his waist, and he groaned in delight when his crotch came in contact with her dripping core. Swiftly, he crossed the room to deposit her down onto the bedspread. Splayed out before him, she was nothing short of magnificent—her hair a bright yellow halo against his sheets, cheeks a rosy crimson, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath, the slope of her flat stomach, the apex between her thighs—and his stiff member throbbed with an aching desperation to claim her.
"You need to stop doing that, Klaus."
"Doing what, exactly?" he smirked, slowly prowling on all fours to hover over her.
"Staring."
He buried his nose in the slope of her neck and drew a long inhale before peppering kisses down the creamy slope. "I can't help myself."
"Now you're just being cheesy," she teased. "Careful, Klaus, or people might start to think you're growing soft."
"I doubt they'd have much of an opinion after I stick a bullet to their heads," he groused, and was about to resume his ministrations when she gently shoved at his shoulders.
The look that she wore lacked the humor that had been present moments ago as she regarded him with a degree of solemnness. "I may be your Old Lady, Klaus, but I won't stand by idly and watch you shoot somebody just for flirting with me again. It's not acceptable."
"Well then, people should learn not to touch what is mine."
She arched a defiant eyebrow. "You have issues, do you know that?"
His spontaneous burst of laughter was about as carefree as he could afford. "Fuck, you're going to be that annoying conscience on my shoulder, aren't you? That moral compass Rebekah was telling me about?"
"I resent that! For your information, buddy," she jabbed a finger against his chest. "I'd rather you not be thrown in jail over stupid little things, like your jealousy and overbearingly possessive ways."
"Hate to break it to you, love, but I've probably done enough in my lifetime to put me on death roll—"
"That's not funny!" she screeched, lightly thumping him with her fist. "I can't believe you'd joke about something like that. Have you no regards for me? For your life? What's going to happen to this club if you—"
He silenced her with a searing kiss, effectively cutting her off mid-rant lest she worked herself up in a frenzy and burst a blood vessel. Grabbing hold of her wrists, he brought them over her head, blue eyes swimming with conflicting emotions. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he husked, using his knees to part her legs. "Although, I did thoroughly enjoy watching you freak out."
"You suck, Klaus," she pouted.
"Well…" he drawled suggestively, releasing his grip on her to paint a wet trail down her sternum with his tongue, laving at one pert nipple as he shoved the last piece of clothing down to his knees. His erection sprang free, full and proud, and he would be damned if didn't relish in the pure lust that glazed through those striking baby blue orbs. "I'm definitely about to do more than that."
In one smooth thrust, he filled her to the hilt.
"I heard you made Matt a Prospect," Caroline intoned as they cuddled up in bed, basking in the afterglow. Idly tracing patterns against the expanse of his chest with her index finger, she coquettishly glanced up at him through her thick lashes. "I'm not even sure he knows what to do with himself right now. Vicki is going to flip."
Klaus snorted. "That sister of his has been a thorn in my side for ages, and I don't think I've ever really done anything to piss her off."
"Coming from you, that's hard to believe."
A knock on the door interrupted whatever it was that he wanted to say, and Caroline had to bite the inside of her cheeks from grinning at the way he hid his nose in her hair and grumbled under his breath. When the rapping grew insistent, she gave him a pointed look that had him sighing in frustration.
"What?" he barked.
"The Sheriff's here, Klaus," Stefan informed him. "You and Caroline might want to get dressed."
Brows furrowed in confusion, she turned her inquisitive eyes up at Klaus' sheepishly guilty face. "Why is my mom here?" she asked suspiciously. Throwing the covers off, she began collecting her clothes. "I thought you guys don't deal with law enforcers?"
"I called her over, actually," he confessed, catching the pair of jeans that she tossed his way.
"Why? Is something wrong? Another threat on the club?"
"She's not here as a cop, love. She's here as your mother."
Caroline froze, recalling the last time she had properly spoken to the older woman—the hurt and disappointment and resentment she had felt when the truth escaped—and a stab of ache pricked through her defenses. Her unfortunate time locked in a basement had brought about new perspectives, brought about the reality of the situation, and made her realize how sheltered her life had been, and she despised it. How could her own flesh and blood not trust her enough to handle the cold hard facts? It stung like a bitch, especially when all her mother's actions had done was plant misplaced opinions of Klaus and his club.
"Then I have nothing to say to her."
He caught her around her waist and reeled her in. "Look, I'm not one for sentimentalities, but everybody have their reasons, whether you like it or not. I just want you to listen to hers before you jump to conclusions that you might regret."
She considered his words for a moment, thinking of a million and one different reasons to rebuke his claims before she realized that he was obviously absolutely right. "Well, look who's the moral compass now."
"I do have my moments," he shrugged modestly.
"Okay, fine," she conceded. "But I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"Get Kol the fuck out of here before my mom knees him in the balls."
He laughed, that lovely boisterous sound filling the room with a certain kind of warmth that had her stomach tingling, and she reckoned she would love to hear it more often.
"Done."
I will love you 'til the end of time
A/N: The end! So yes, I am aware that the ending is sort of an open-ended thing, but then, so is life, right? There's never really a stop, it just keeps going; how deep. Anyway, I'd like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has taken time out to read, and more so to those of you kind enough to leave a review or wonderful comments and encouraging words. This is my first endeavor into writing for the TVD fandom, and my co-writer's first debut as a writer, period, so we're both so blessed to receive such a warm welcome!
Guest: Hi there! Thank you for reading and leaving a review! I really appreciate it!
Ashlytorres24: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving such a nice review! I really appreciate it, and I'm glad that you've enjoyed the previous chapter! I hope this chapter has addressed most of your concerns with the characters and their fates, but my co-writer and I have also left this story open-ended so that certain things can be interpreted anyway you guys like. Rebekah is fine, though, but because this story focuses more on Klaus and Caroline, we didn't really delve too deep into her story, and same goes for Liz as well. Yeah, me and sneakercladbrunette have been sending things back and forth, so there is definitely something in the mix. Hope you've enjoyed this story! Cheers!
Justanotherfiveminutes: Hi there! First of all, thank you so much for the wonderful message you've sent to my co-writer. She's so thrilled that you've enjoyed it so far! Also, thank you for leaving a review here. I really appreciate it! I'm glad you liked the plot twist. It was actually the basis for this story to begin with when my co-writer and I were discussing how to make things interesting for a five-parter, especially with such a challenging genre and topic. Hope you've enjoyed this last part! Cheers!
Arbo: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving a review! I really appreciate it, and yes, I always feel that Caroline is a lot smarter than the characters in the show give her credit for. Hope you've enjoyed this ending!
Song used: "Blue Jeans" by Lana Del Ray