Author's Note: I've wanted to see Caroline in New Orleans since I started writing this story, but I wanted her arrival to unfold in an unconventional way. Below is the result. I hope you like it! Also, thank you, thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. It plucks me with the courage to share and inspires me to continue writing, curious to see where the characters are headed-for good, for bad, or for ugly.

As Klaus would say, "Have at it!" :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any TVD/TO material.

If there was anything that could force Caroline's eyes open, it was that.

"What the hell am I doing in New Orleans?" she asked as her head sprung up.

Dizzy, she regretted the movement immediately. In surrender, she allowed her head to fall back against the satin pillows on which she rested. Why did she feel so weak?

Klaus sat on a red cushioned chair near her head, his elbows resting on his knees. "Funny," he said, "I was going to ask you the same question."

Caroline looked around for the first time since opening her eyes. She found herself perched on a canopy bed in a spacious bedroom suite. Double-paned French doors opened onto a balcony littered with vivacious flowers of many different varieties and ivory curtains billowed in the windows against the windy breeze, allowing for natural light to stream across the floor. Dark-toned woods mixed with a combination of antique and modern furniture populated the space, somehow bridging old world relics with a contemporary flair in a fresh, seamless style.

Wrapped in a silky floral comforter, she basked in the airy yet elegant feeling of the room. It was lovely. Warm and cozy, the room emanated an enchanting lightness that made Caroline wonder about who it belonged to…you know, under normal circumstances. Her money was on Rebekah.

As she yawned against the elegant wood headboard, she peered at Klaus curiously. He looked unkempt, Caroline noticed. At least for him. His blond hair stood up in odd directions and his clothes, which were wrinkled, betrayed spots stained with blood and liquor around his neckline. Not only that, but his eyes looked duller than usual. Dark circles clung to the skin beneath them, masking their bright blue fierceness. All in all, he looked exhausted.

How long had he been here? Better question: How long had she been here? Minutes? Hours? Days? Time blurred in an indistinct haze amid the swirling blackness.

"Bonnie sent me," she replied.

At this, Caroline stirred, kicking her feet free from the silky sheets.

"Oh my God, Bonnie! What happened to Bonnie? I have to find her!" Tossing pillows and covers aside, she patted the bed frantically. "Where's my phone? Give me a phone! I—I need to make some calls."

"We'll get to all that, love," Klaus said as he pushed her back against the pillows a little forcefully. "Tell me what happened first."

Drained, she couldn't struggle against him even if she'd tried. Why did she feel like this? With her head pounding, she couldn't formulate a plan, let alone a coherent thought about Bonnie's whereabouts. Not right now.

"I don't know what happened," Caroline said, rubbing her throbbing forehead with the back of her hand. "One minute, I was in Mystic Falls with Bonnie fighting that lunatic, Kai, the next I was—"

"—Unconscious in the middle of my courtyard?" Klaus interrupted.

"What? Seriously? Talk about humiliating…"

Paying no heed to her gasping commentary, Klaus stood up and paced along the floor in front of the bed with a not-so-repressed agitation. A scowl, not a smile, overtook his lips. In fact, he seemed more enraged at Caroline's New Orleans awakening than he did intrigued.

It's not like I had any control over the matter, she thought.

Although it was ridiculous, Caroline felt a pang of disappointment. What had she expected? Klaus made that offer years ago. So much time had passed, so much had happened. Things were different now—she was different. Did she really think he'd be happy, perhaps a little smug, at the prospect that she inevitably had "showed up at his door?"

By the look on his face, pleased he was not.

"After tending to some werewolf business in the bayou, I came home…and there you were—" he began, his jaw clenched, "—sprawled and emaciated in the middle of the ground, blood splattered across your chin and down the front of your shirt. Not yours, I gather?"

"No, not mine." Caroline confirmed.

Klaus nodded, unmoved. Then, repressing a low growl, he turned and rushed at her without warning, plopping down beside her on the bed with his fists clenched behind his back.

Caroline gulped. As she sank further into the headboard, hugging herself, she stared back at him unblinkingly, not knowing what to expect. A shiver ran down her spine as he leaned toward her…closer…and closer…so close that she could almost feel the intensity scorching her skin.

She couldn't move; she dared not breathe. Paralysis had taken over and had suspended her in anticipation. Klaus had this uncanny way of ripping her open. Unfortunately, Caroline could never tell if that meant he wanted to expose her hidden self…or rip it to shreds.

Yellow flickered across his eyes. Removing a hand from behind his back, he thrust an object into her face.

"This isn't yours either," he hissed, waving the ascendant, "And yet you possess it—it was clutched to your breast like a poisonous apple primed and prepared to kill."

At this, a maniacal laugh escaped his throat. With him so close, his breath felt hot and salty against her face. "Did you truly expect it to be that easy, Caroline? You fool!"

Glaring, he paused. Whatever he said next, he wanted to enunciate it—to make it understood. "I thought you were smarter…stronger….than the rest of them," he said, brushing bangs from her forehead with his fingers in an intimate rage, "…but it seems I was mistaken."

He leaned closer. Their noses almost touched. "In fact, you're the worst of them all," he whispered spitefully, "You're pathetic."

Though Caroline was laden with fatigue and confusion, Klaus' words sent rivets of hurt surging through her. Not only hurt, but anger. It rippled through her in flashes of bright red and set her body aflame, boiling her with the desire to retaliate. Pathetic? She'd show him pathetic!

Crawling onto her hands, she lurched at him with an adrenaline she didn't think she possessed. With hands on his shoulders and tears stinging her eyes, she pinned him beneath her, using her knees to lock his hips into place. "Give me the damn ascendant, Klaus!"

"And willingly place the object meant to kill me in your traitorous little hands?" Klaus roared, "NEVER!"

Klaus thrashed beneath her, but not for long. He used his legs to knock her knees outward before flipping her onto her back, pressing her arms firmly into the mattress. Still gripping the ascendant, he pressed the points of the star hard into her right wrist.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" she exclaimed. Her blue eyes peered up at him with challenge and austerity. "You think my friends sent me here with that—" she nodded at the ascendant "—to kill you?"

Bending, his nostrils flared.

"Yes."

Little wrinkles of fury radiated across his forehead, Caroline saw. His jaw, compressed in a stern, serious line, contrasted the softness of his eyes which illustrated the agony of betrayal, of disappointment, he felt, but would never express. He truly believed that she had come here—wielding the ultimate weapon of destruction—to kill him. (Not that she knew how to use it.) And not only was he furious about that, he was wounded. Deeply, deeply wounded.

Caroline laughed. The amusement clutched at her sides.

"What the hell is so bloody funny?" Klaus growled.

His fingers dug into her arms. Harder.

"You!" Caroline giggled.

Breaking her arms free, she tackled him once more, this time launching him into the pillows at the head of the bed. "Listen to me, you paranoid psycho!" she bellowed, straddling his hips and lowering her face, "I don't know why Bonnie sent me here, okay? But it's not to kill you!" She squeezed his shoulders hard, shaking him. "Do you hear me? I'm not here to kill you!"

Klaus rolled them over, regaining his position on top. Though he still restrained her hands, his grip wasn't as forceful as it had been before. "Then why," he asked through gritted teeth, "were you sent here with the ascendant?"

Caroline rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious. "To keep it away from Kai and Freya, you fool."

She added extra emphasis to this last word, delighting at the opportunity to spit his tasteless vocabulary back at him. Serves him right.

Klaus released her arms slowly as she said this. The truth seemed to slap him like a hand across the face. Placing a hand on either side of her head, he squinted down at her—a reflection of confusion, disbelief, and uncertainty mirrored in his features. His body language, still rigid, suggested that he didn't believe her; but his eyes, wide and thoughtful, peered at her with a conflicted gentleness, revealing how much he wished he could.

He didn't say anything.

"I don't want to kill you, Klaus." Caroline repeated, breaking the silence. As she maneuvered onto her elbows, she cupped his chin in her right hand and forced him to look down at her. Into her eyes. "I've never wanted to kill you."

She blushed as she heard the confession roll off her lips. She blushed worse when she met his probing gaze. Where did that come from?

At this, Klaus let out a long sigh. He shook his head and let out a small chuckle before retreating into deep thought, considering her words.

"But if you don't get the hell off me now," she added, shoving him backwards with a smile, "I may change my mind."

There was a knock on the door.

Disentangling themselves, they assumed less conspicuous positions on the bed. Klaus collapsed backwards, crossing his feet and cradling his head with intertwined fingers; Caroline rolled to the right, her stomach hanging off the edge, determined to put as much space between her and that snickering hybrid as possible. The things he found entertaining. Honestly.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to interrupt," Elijah said, clearing his throat, "Should I come back later?"

"No—you didn't—you didn't interrupt anything," Caroline stammered.

Flustered at Elijah finding them in such a "compromised" position, she glared at Klaus before raising her foot and kicking in him in the ass. "Klaus was just leaving. Weren't you, Klaus?"

Clearly ruminating in her embarrassment, Klaus flashed to the door with a smirk lingering on his lips. "Yes, brother. Let us leave her to freshen up after her long winter's nap," he said, clapping Elijah on the back, "We have important things to discuss."

He flapped the ascendant to illustrate his point, eliciting an arched eyebrow from Elijah. Afterwards, he tucked it into his back pocket for safe keeping.

I guess I'm not getting that back, Caroline sighed.

Klaus paused in the doorway. "You'll find everything you need in here," he said with his back facing her, "When you're finished, come and join us for a drink downstairs…You look famished."

With that, he disappeared.

Elijah stepped forward.

"I retrieved your phone for you after your arrival," he said, his hand still gripping the doorknob.

"You did?"

Hope beamed within her.

"I'm afraid it didn't survive the impact."

Caroline's face fell, disappointment apparent.

"The screen shattered. I hope you don't mind, but I replaced it for you in town," he said as he arranged the cuffs of his suit, "New phone, same contacts. I'll have it for you downstairs."

Barely able to contain her gratitude, Caroline hopped up and clapped, wanting to kiss this bearer of good news. (Thankfully-at least for Elijah's sake-she repressed this urge.) Her phone! Her friends! Bonnie!

Answers. Finally, finally, she'd have answers!

Crossing closer to him, she stopped in front of the doors that opened onto the balcony and smiled at him, full of appreciation. Elijah was the Original she'd interacted with the least in Mystic Falls. He operated behind a meticulous reserve, which in a way, made him difficult to know. Difficult, but not impossible.

Caroline understood this much: he was the type of man who preferred to keep his emotions pressed tight against his sleeve. Though they were repressed, they were safe. No one could threaten that which they did not know, right? In addition, though Elijah had been involved in many supernatural plots, he'd always erected himself with a stoic respectability that his other siblings lacked. Reason made him approachable, and at times, unexpectedly compassionate.

It's funny—while she had heard Elena boast of his noble heart in the past, Caroline never thought she'd experience it firsthand. Until today.

"That was kind," she said to him delicately, "Thank you."

Elijah smiled curtly and turned to leave. As the door swung closed behind him, he said, "I'm glad to see you awake again, Miss Forbes."

Klaus hadn't lied. Caroline found almost everything she required in her stunning suite: towels, toiletries, lavender body lotion, wads of cash and credit cards, clothes (all remarkably in her size), and hot water perfect for a cleansing, I-can't-believe-I'm-with-the-Mikaelsons shower. The one and only thing she lacked? Blood.

As she pulled on a turquoise sundress and a pair of white flats, she became perceptible to the heaviness in her limbs. Not only that, but her veins felt like sandpaper—thin and brittle, chafing as they rubbed together. How long had it been since she'd last fed? How long had she been here? Every movement, no matter how small, exacerbated her blazing exhaustion, sending her closer and closer to the brink of collapse. That "drink" Klaus had offered never sounded so good.

But Caroline didn't rush downstairs—partly because her throbbing body wouldn't allow it, and partly because she needed time to process. If Klaus' incorrect assumptions were any indication of what awaited her, she needed to formulate a plan. A smart one.

Wariness pervaded them all right now. She didn't trust them; they didn't trust her. Her life in the hands of that inquisitive bunch of Originals seemed precarious at best.

Notorious for her compulsive cleaning habits, Caroline devised her strategy while tossing her dirty towels in the hamper and making up the fluffy bed. She yanked, jerked, and tucked until those sheets achieved that lineless, glossy perfection she craved. As she did so, she determined to stay strong, to stay focused.

The Mikaelson siblings may be nearly un-killable, but that didn't mean they could bully or intimidate her. Caroline would show them. I am strong. I am lively. I am resilient. Then, and only then, would she acquire the tools she needed to not only defeat Kai and Freya, but to find out what happened to her friends.

After arranging her wet hair into a French braid, she felt done. Ready. It was time.

Shrugging her arms into a white cardigan, Caroline made for the door—the courage of a warrior filling her with a vibrant buoyancy.

As her hand gripped the top of the wide banister, Caroline closed her eyes and exhaled. She felt so drowsy.

"I think they're waiting for you in the sitting room," a voice said behind her.

Turning, Caroline beheld a familiar brunette. Petite and slim with green eyes, she wore a pair of black jeans and a red flannel shirt. She fidgeted with a diamond on the ring finger of her left hand.

"Hayley?" Caroline asked, a mixture of surprise and distaste. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Elijah," she replied as she bolted down the stairs, avoiding eye contact. "You'll find them through there." She pointed at an arched wooden door to her left. "Could you please tell Elijah I'll be waiting in the kitchen until he's finished?"

Caroline nodded.

"I appreciate it."

With that, Hayley vanished behind the stairs and into the kitchen.

Well, that was awkward.

Of all times, of all places, of all people, Hayley was the absolute last person Caroline would've predicted to be frequenting New Orleans. Forget New Orleans! How in the hell was she so "familiar" with the locations of rooms-here-in Mikaelson Manor?

What had happened since they all vacated Mystic Falls? Were she and the Originals somehow…friends? (Not that they had friends exactly.) After she purposely plotted to kill not one, but all 12, of Klaus' hybrids—excluding Tyler? Really?!

Whatever. She didn't have the time, or the energy, to think about Hayley. Like Scarlett O'Hara would say, "She'd think about it tomorrow."

Right now, she had bigger things to worry about.

Caroline floated through that wooden door and into the sitting room with her usual cheerfulness, though with perhaps a little less energy. At first, she only perceived Klaus. He stood in front of a white marble fireplace, clutching a decanter of scotch in his hands as he poured himself a large drink.

After the events of earlier, she wasn't desirous of being alone with him. At all. She still hadn't forgiven him. Why in the hell would he presume she came here to murder him? After all they'd been through together? The flirtation, the manipulation, the embrace-your-darkness pep talk, the hot hybrid sex…why didn't he know better? Didn't he know her at all? It made no sense.

Just as she turned to flee, however, he spoke.

"Hello, Caroline," he drawled in his British accent, not deigning to turn around, "Take a seat. I'll fetch you a drink."

Yawning, Rebekah popped up from her hidden position on the beige couch. "Pour me a glass of wine, Nik," she said as he moved to the bar, "These family meetings can be so tiresome."

Caroline took a seat in an over-sized brown chair. Crossing her arms, she collapsed backwards onto it and shut her eyes in an effort to stop the incessant spinning.

"Bloody hell," Rebekah quipped, her head draped across her arms, "You smacked the 'beauty' right out of Sleeping Beauty, didn't you? You look awful!"

"How about you travel through a witchy rabbit hole and see how pretty you look afterwards?"

Rebekah scoffed, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Technically…it's called transcendental turbulence, sunshine. Just to clarify," said a familiar male voice. "It transforms you into molecules and launches you elsewhere. The recovery time is putrid, even for fast-healing vampires. It's why you currently look so vomit green."

A low chuckle rumbled in Klaus' chest.

Kol.

Wait a minute—this couldn't be happening. Wasn't Kol dead? Gone? Sucked away into oblivion when the Other Side collapsed? They killed him. Caroline distinctly remembered stepping over his charred corpse when it blocked access into Elena's kitchen two years ago. Had she accidentally dozed off? Was this all some elaborate dream? What was happening?

Opening her eyes, Kol—in all his cheeky, mischievous glory—leaned against the edge of the fireplace. He was here. He existed. This was real.

With his brown hair disheveled and his posture casual, he curled his lips into a smirk.

"Then again, I've only been a warlock—alive and practicing—for six months now," he said, arching an eyebrow, "Why would you accept the ramblings of a once-vampire-ghost?"

Caroline looked up at him with droopy, scrutinizing eyes. "Don't any of you people stay dead?" she groaned.

As she said this, Klaus flashed beside her and made a seat of the chair's armrest. He handed her a glass. Champagne. It was their thing, she remembered. Apparently so did he.

Taking a sip, Caroline ignored Klaus' gaze and allowed the alcohol to numb her whirring brain. The drink was tinged with blood (his?), but only enough to take the edge off, not to satiate her. Regardless, it still tasted like a half-apology; and for that, and that alone, she savored the subtle sweetness.

"That, Miss Forbes," Elijah said, suddenly appearing, "is precisely what we need to find out about Freya."

For the next fifteen minutes, they interrogated her about everything. They asked about the ascendant, how Bonnie and Damon plucked it from the 1994 prison world to escape back to the present. They asked about Kai, how he slithered back into Mystic Falls with them, undetected, and began siphoning magic from the town's borders, how Caroline uncovered his mysterious plan regarding Freya, how he confronted her and Bonnie at the Salvatore boarding house. They asked about her impromptu arrival, what she remembered and why her friend elected to cast her to New Orleans of all places.

Caroline answered their questions to the best of her knowledge. And though she felt like she was on trial, it felt good to unburden her mind. Even to them.

After all had been explained, Caroline poured herself another glass of champagne (sans blood) at the bar. "To be honest, I have no clue why I'm here," she said with a shrug, taking a swig, "It's not like Kai is connected to New Orleans, right? And Freya…I don't know who that crazy bitch is, let alone where she is."

Caroline paced across the floor, deep in thought. Wiping her wet lips with her hand, she continued. "Maybe Bonnie wanted to spell me somewhere far away? And New Orleans was the first place that popped into her head? Although," Caroline laughed, hiccupping, "when I awoke here, Klaus seemed damn pretty convinced that my sole mission was to stab him with the ascendant."

In memory, Caroline rolled her eyes and turned to face her audience.

Silence.

The four siblings sat next to each other on the beige tufted couch—Elijah and Klaus on either arm, Rebekah and Kol in the middle on the cushions. Unmoving, they all stared back at her.

"What am I missing here?" She pointed at them in accusation. "You know something, don't you?"

Elijah sighed, rubbing his hands together in agitation. Rebekah collapsed her face into her hands and moaned. Brooding, Klaus scowled. The only one of them who didn't look perturbed was Kol, who sank back against the couch pillows and whistled the Jaws score under his breath. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

"Kol, must you be so childish?" Elijah scolded.

Amused, Kol shrugged. "It seemed appropriate. Danger. Jaws. I like to stick with the classics."

Rebekah nudged him from behind.

"You know what else seems appropriate?" Klaus asked.

"Wh—umph!"

Klaus elbowed him in the nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils.

"As always, Niklaus, no sense of humor," Kol said, shaking his head.

Extracting a tissue from the handbag at her feet, Rebekah handed it to Kol and rolled her eyes. "Do you see what I've had to put up with for 1,000 years?"

Ignoring their family squabbling, Caroline tapped her foot. Waiting. "Well?"

"There's a family war brewing, darling, and it's time to pick sides," Kol replied in muffled tones.

With his fingers staunching his bloody nose, he used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe the excess blood from his face instead of the tissue.

Typical, rebellious, Kol, Caroline thought.

Jumping up, he threw an arm around Caroline's shoulders and maneuvered her past the end table at the back of the couch. Grabbing a mini-globe, he tossed it like a basketball between his fingers. "Freya's the shunned Mikaelson sibling nobody talks about. Mummy banished the naughty minx to a prison world with Auntie Dahlia the night before we turned into vampires."

Standing, Elijah smoothed the wrinkles from his suit. "Freya was tempestuous and wild. She wielded magic like a scythe by slicing others down in order to increase her own supremacy. Mother thought she needed a leash—something, somewhere, someone to keep her power in check."

"So, our mother sent her away," Rebekah added, "…to reflect."

"And here we thought I was the biggest sociopath of the family," Klaus remarked with a smile.

Leaning close to Caroline's ear, Kol whispered, "She always was a feisty little witch, that one. Hates family treachery."

"Wait…you mean to tell me that you're related to this Freya chick?"

Kol winked.

"You have another sister?"

"Yes, Caroline. I believe we conveyed that point quite clearly," Rebekah spat, rubbing her fist across her forehead.

Goosebumps prickled Caroline's skin. Another Original? Worse, an Original witch who was thirsty for unnatural power. (And probably vengeful for the neglect of her family.) This was bad. This was really, really bad.

If Freya was anything like her siblings, particularly Klaus, she probably had a knack for manipulation and evasion. She'd probably employ an army of witch minions to do her bidding while she sat behind the chess board waiting for the perfect moment to stab with her queenly blade. She'd slice and slay until she achieved her goal, collateral damage be damned. In other words, she wouldn't be easy to defeat.

Guzzling down the last of her champagne, Caroline threw herself into Kol's empty spot on the couch.

"Six shades of family dysfunction, that's what this is!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands over her eyes. "Dagger them, dessicate them, banish them, kill them. It doesn't matter! Mikaelsons just keep popping out of the ashes like daisies!"

Releasing an exasperated sound, Caroline, who was dizzy and exhausted, collapsed her head against Klaus' thigh. "My head hurts. You people make my head hurt."

Without a saying a word, Klaus petted her head with soft, nimble strokes. Sweet. Comforting. Soothing.

Want of sleep pressed against her eyelids.

Buzz. Buzz.

"What now?" she grumbled, her eyes still closed.

Buzz. Buzz.

"Cheer up, sunshine," Kol crooned, patting her head from behind. "It seems you're getting a call…" he paused, catching the phone Elijah tossed to him with one hand, "from… Boyfriend? What the—that's not a name! Who is it?" Kol prodded. "Who's Boyfriend?"

Klaus hardened. Pulling his leg away, he moved to pour himself another drink, this time opting for a larger glass.

"Ick, cutesy cell phone names?" Rebekah gagged, "How cheesy!"

Caroline perked up. Actually, she bounded up—leaping over the back of the sofa like a track hurdler and prying her property from Kol's taunting, little fingers. Her phone! Her friends! Answers! She couldn't believe she was only one button swipe away. Finally!

Before fleeing into the foyer, however, she clamored a perplexed Elijah in a warm embrace. "Thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek.

Though surprised by her warmth and perhaps a little stiff in its reciprocation, he smiled.

"And before I forget," she whispered, "Hayley's in the kitchen."

With the words "but who's Boyfriend" echoing behind her, Caroline escaped the Originals to answer her call.

She wanted privacy. But this was neither her house nor her city. In other words, her options were limited. With the siblings clogging the downstairs, Caroline reasoned that under the circumstances, the best place for a personal phone call was on the balcony outside her glamorous "sleeping" room from before. Quiet and secluded (not to mention beautiful) she could talk freely there. Away from eavesdropping Original ears.

"Just tell me you're okay," Caroline blabbed as she answered, "Please tell me that you're all okay."

"You vanished without so much as a text, a call, or a bloody fire signal for 5 days and you want to know if we're okay? We're fine. We thawed. We're good," Enzo said.

"You thawed?"

"Kai immobilized us with a freeze spell while he came after you and Bonnie for the ascendant. Not important."

Enzo made an impatient noise, lowering his voice to a low grumble. "What the bloody hell happened to you?" he asked with an aggressive tone. "Whose ass do I need to kick?"

"No one's. Bonnie sent me to New Orleans."

Caroline drummed her fingers on the railing, dreading what came next. How could she explain?

"Oh, isn't that lovely. A vacation."

Caroline could hear him slurping down some kind of liquor. When he swallowed the last of it, he exhaled. Loudly.

"And you couldn't find, say, two seconds out of your busy day to call and tell me, your favorite accented friend, that you sought refuge with Klaus the Hybrid Hottie (your drunken words) in the wake of a witchpocalypse?"

"No—I couldn't—I—" she stammered.

Enzo tsk-tsked. "I thought we were better friends than that, Blondie," he said. "After your mom died, I thought we swore we'd always be honest..."

"Listen, Boyfriend," Caroline said with exaggerated emphasis, "how about you shut up and let me explain."

She still couldn't believe he'd tampered with her phone contacts that Tipsy Thursday. The sneaky shit. God only knows what else he'd changed…

"There she is!" he teased. "My vivacious little ball of spunk—how I've missed you!"

Caroline jumped to sit next to a pot of daisies on the railing, laughing. That was the wonderful thing about Enzo: he always knew how to lighten the mood.

She heard him crack his knuckles as if in preparation.

"Talk to me," he said, "This sounds like a marvelous story."

And talk to him she did. Caroline explained Bonnie's spontaneous move during their Kai confrontation and how she offered herself up as bait while shooting Caroline away with the ascendant. Alone. Next, she told him of Klaus' you-came-to-kill-me outburst after she awoke days later, dazed and delirious. Lastly, she informed him of the Freya-Originals connection. She made sure to highlight the major complications on that front.

In exchange, Enzo informed her that Bonnie was still alive…somewhere. (Apparently, the Bennett witch appeared to be useful, at least for now. Or so Kai's cryptic video message conveyed.) Unfortunately, her friends had no leads as to her whereabouts.

"Thank God!" she exclaimed.

Relief flooded through her. Though it wasn't ideal, she was alive. Bonnie was alive! And no matter what it took, Caroline would find her. Soon. As for Kai…he was a dead man. Dead, dead, dead.

"Here's what I still don't understand, Gorgeous," Enzo continued, "Why New Orleans? Why you?"

"Bonnie sending me here is still a freaking mystery," Caroline said.

Pulling a daisy free from its pot, she plucked its petals and watched as they floated like forgotten wishes to the stampcrete patio. "It's not like she knew about Freya. None of us did."

"But you think Freya's nearby? Plotting?"

Caroline shrugged.

"I can't be sure, but I wouldn't be surprised," she said, "That's why I need to stay."

"To figure out a way to stop her?" Enzo asked.

"I can't think of a better place, can you?"

The evening breeze gusted across her skin and made her shiver. With her feet dangling, Caroline kicked the posts of the railing with her shoes in a meditative rhythm. "Her family's here. Her siblings. They know her strengths and weaknesses better than anyone," Caroline argued, "To win, to vanquish her, I need to arm myself with as much information as possible."

Enzo hummed on the other line, processing. "Is that all? Is that the only reason you want to stay?"

A skepticism characterized his tone that Caroline didn't appreciate. What was he suggesting?

"Excuse me?"

"Don't get defensive," Enzo laughed.

She knew a secret part of him delighted in pushing her buttons, but this accusation seemed too harsh. Too pointed.

"I don't think Bonnie sent you there by accident," he continued, "I think she knew exactly what she was doing. And why…"

At this, Caroline launched her feet back onto the ground with a huff, her face blazing. Shame? Outrage? Was it wrong that she couldn't differentiate between the two at the moment? That she couldn't understand the pump, pump, pump of her heart?

Cradling her phone with her chin, she leaned against the railing and peered out at the city for the first time. Taking it all in.

Breathing in slowly, her breath felt fresh…the air, ancient. The lights of the French Quarter hugged the streets in a dim energy. The buildings, though they didn't move, seemed to vibrate with life, whispering secrets of untold histories and boasting of laughter and tears that lurked in shadowed shops along the cobblestone sidewalks. The crowds themselves hummed with voices that enwrapped the city in a halo of animated musicality, a distant song that drifted along the wind. Violins plucked, banjos strummed, and trumpets buzzed. All five senses demanded to be engaged.

Caroline had never felt more awake in a place before. More alive. Her fingers tingled to touch, to plunge into a vivacity so stark and different from home. But she hesitated—checked by fears she couldn't yet rationalize.

"Are you freaking insane?!" she bellowed into the phone, holding it in front of her mouth. "You think I wanted to come here? That Bonnie somehow perceived that I secretly, desperately—not just wanted—but needed to come to New Orleans?"

Panting, Caroline paused.

"Yes?" Enzo replied, a question mark hanging on the last syllable.

After releasing an annoyed breath, she replaced the phone against her ear and walked back toward the bedroom.

"No," she said, shaking her head vehemently, "No, no, no, NO!"

The bewilderment and exhaustion of the past few days—no—the past few hours—threatened to throw her head-first into hysteria. First, Kai and Freya. Second, Bonnie; her missing friends. Third, the investigative Originals. Fourth, Klaus. He was infuriating! He thought she came to kill him? Ha! And now, unwarranted accusations from Enzo. How much more could one girl take?

Caroline threw herself onto the made bed, her left fist clenched and pulsating at her side as she collapsed against the comforter. Her feet dangled to the floor. "And if that string of No's isn't enough to convince you, then maybe this will be."

She clutched the phone tight to her ear. "This is the absolute last place in the world—no—in the entire universe that I want to be, okay? Do you understand that?"

She laughed, but without humor.

Returning to her normal tone of voice, she added, "I'd rather be anywhere else. Anywhere but here."

Caroline heard someone sigh. And it wasn't Enzo.

"That's the thing about staying in my house, love," Klaus said, "When you don't answer my incessant knocking, I forego propriety and bust down the damn door."

Crap.

Squinting her eyes shut, Caroline threw a hand over her face. A pathetic attempt at hiding.

"How much of that did you just hear?" she asked Klaus.

"Enough. I heard enough."

His voice sounded hard. Distant.

Crap, crap, crap! She just wanted rest. She just wanted blood. It had been a crap day without enough of either…and now, all she wanted was for this bed to swallow her whole, to remove her from this awkward hell. Immediately.

Caroline could hear Enzo attempting to repress a snicker on the other line. He failed.

"Busted," he muttered, not bothering to conceal his amusement.

"Enzo, I'm going to have to call you back."

With one click, she ended both his call and his uncontrollable laughter.

Jumping up, Caroline spotted a formidable shadow standing in the open doorway. He stood erect with his arms behind his back, his head cocked slightly to the side. Klaus remained still—observing her. And while his eyes lacked that hybrid yellow, the gaze of the monster, they still glared at her with an animalistic ferocity that threatened to tear her to shreds.

Was he hurt or merely offended? The storm brewing in his blue eyes made the answer ambiguous. As if he wasn't already enigmatic enough. Seriously.

Stepping over shards of shattered wood and a bronze doorknob, Caroline scoffed. "Congratulations, Hulk," she said, coming to a halt opposite him, "Apparently you forgot that God invented keys."

Klaus shrugged, untroubled. "I didn't think of it at the time."

"Look…" Caroline started, "I'm—"

He held up a hand to silence her.

"Please. Don't apologize."

"But I—"

Wagging a finger at her, Klaus flashed to the bedside table to retrieve a glass before strolling onto the balcony. His nonchalant whistle echoed in the air as he stepped outside into the cloudless night.

Following close behind, Caroline grabbed him by the elbow. The unsteadiness of her grasping movement sent their feet crashing into a pot of daisies by the door. It cracked, spilling dirt and flowers in an avalanche. There, dispersed across the ground, wasted wishes died on top of petals that'd never be plucked.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, her fist tangled in the fabric of his shirt. She begged for him to listen, to believe her words. "I didn't mean it. Really, I—I didn't. I was just so angry—"

Tears pooled in her eyes. He had been so thoughtful after her mother died, so helpful. Out of everyone she knew, he had been the most persistent. The constant. The forever there. He was the one person who not only recognized her strength, but nurtured it, forever challenging her to embrace what she is, to become who she was always meant to be.

And so, what did she do? How did she repay that kindness? With ugly, untruthful words. Words that came more from a place of fear and uncertainty about her feelings than it did from honesty. What had she done?

"—Caroline, Caroline," Klaus interrupted, a tsk-tsk lingering on his lips.

Gripping her by the shoulders, he bent his head and looked deep into her eyes with an icy callousness.

"You are mistaking me for someone who cares," he whispered, his pupils dilating, "And I don't."

Smirking, he fiddled with a loose curl by her right ear, stopping only to trace her jaw bone with his index finger in gentle, teasing strokes. He leaned in close, his lips almost pressed against her cheek.

"I don't care about you…" he said, "...I don't care about anyone." He pulled away. "The only thing I care about," he said, leaping onto the railing, "is this—" Klaus spread his arms wide, pointing outwards. Beyond. "My city. My kingdom."

He paused to look down at her with scorn from atop his royal ledge. "That, sweetheart, is all that truly matters to me. Nothing more, nothing less."

Caroline peered up at his ostentatious display with crossed arms. Arrogant and pompous, that's what he was.

Unmoved, she replied, "I don't believe you."

Caroline didn't care what he said, what he yelled…because she knew the truth. He cared. He cared, dammit! And no tantrum—no matter how vile or violent—could remove that tattooed fact from her heart.

In other words: Let the liar lie!

Klaus froze at her words. His back muscles flexed, becoming rigid.

Jumping down, a low growl rumbled in his chest as he stalked towards her with defiance radiating off of him in waves. He removed a blood bag from his back pocket, slamming the glass, which now overflowed with blood, into her palm. The action was quick. Firm.

"Drink it," he commanded.

Caroline gaped at him, surprised. Had he just agreed with her? Had he actually waved his white flag in surrender? She accepted the blood like a peace offering, toasting him before swallowing it like a shot.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her hand across her mouth as she finished, "I feel better now."

Klaus sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Replenish yourself, love," he encouraged, "You're of no use to me dead. Or worse, dessicated."

Startled, Caroline coughed. "What?"

"Kai and Freya pose a dangerous threat. To me, to my home. I won't allow that."

He shook his head to illustrate his point.

Together—" he explained, circling her in contemplative steps, "together, we will annihilate them. To do that, to acquire the information I need to preserve peace in my beloved city…I need you strong; I need you alert; I need you alive. Until then, you're mine."

A possessive glint flickered in his eyes as he said these words, sending shivers down Caroline's spine. Yet, while fear gripped at her, so did something else: exhilaration.

"After that…I don't care where you go or what you do." Here, he stopped and lifted her chin with his finger. "Because you..." Klaus snarled, drawing her against his chest with shuddering arms, "...you mean nothing." Unsteady, his voice cracked. "Nothing."

With that, with one parting look of gravity, Klaus abandoned Caroline to the darkness of the balcony.

Alone now, quietness pervaded her. But his words—they lingered in a fading echo, bruising the muscles of her heart like a whip.

So give me love and all your hate.

Tell me lies in fifty shades—

Lay me down for a while,

get lost in the grey.

-Fifty Shades, Boy Epic

Additional Note:

I enjoyed crafting my little original!Originals "family meeting" in the sitting room. I'm curious to see which of the Mikaelsons Caroline will learn to trust more as the witch hunt for Kai and Freya becomes more convoluted. (And who will trust her.) All bets are off during a war-you never know what "connections" will be made. Also, I know Freya has yet to make an appearance. But she's coming. The magical powerhouses are both coming!

Anyways, bring on the reviews, lovely readers!