Apologies to anyone who got the story update and then it disappeared. I jumped the gun a little and forgot to format and add notes. Oops!

Anyways, sorry for the long wait. Hope you enjoy this chapter though. There's a lot of Klaus's backstory and a bit of Caroline's. Anytime I write AUs I come up with long insane backstories in my head, and I tried to give you all the cliffnotes version that makes sense for the story.

And for those of you asking why I chose to not include Kol and Finn as siblings in this story, it's because I wanted to keep Klaus's family smaller.

Hope you enjoy!

As soon as Alaric stopped the car, Caroline darted out, rushing into the house in effort to be as far away from Elena as possible. Meanwhile, Elena headed upstairs to change for her "business dinner." Whatever. Caroline flopped down on her bed and rolled her eyes. Elena could be so self important sometimes.

Caroline stayed in her guest room until she was sure Elena had left. She changed out of her clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Even though her t-shirt was a crisp white and her jeans freshly washed, she felt a bit on the frumpy side as she ventured downstairs; her outfit felt too casual, in spite of it being a quiet evening at home. Rebekah never wore anything less than heels and perfect pressed blouses as she strutted around the stuffy halls of the mansion. She found it difficult to imagine the Mikaelsons ever having a lazy day in sweatpants.

Caroline walked around downstairs in search of a television. She hadn't recalled seeing one when Elijah had given them the grand tour, but of course they had to have one somewhere; what kind of people didn't own a TV? She figured there would be a giant screen somewhere, with state of the art DVD players and sound systems that didn't see much use.

In the back of her mind, she realized that she could just take herself out to see London like she had wanted to, but didn't much feel up to it now that she was in a bad mood. First her fight with Klaus, then Elena, all she wanted to do was curl up in front of the tube and indulge in some bad reality TV. Maybe she could find some junk food, but again that seemed like an unlikely possibility. Perhaps watching the Kardashians yell at one another for a few hours were make her feel less crappy.

As she neared one of the sitting rooms she heard voices. It sounded like Rebekah and Klaus. At first she thought she might want to avoid them, but then she paused to listen to whatever was happening; it sounded dramatic. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but maybe it would be better than anything she could find on TV.

Klaus was seated in a brown leather chair, a sketchbook propped up on his knee, his eyes focused on what his pencil was doing. In front of him was Rebekah, with what appeared to be a script in her hand; she was reading from it, gesticulating with broad arm movements. The girl stopped when she noticed Caroline enter the room, giving her the usual icy frown. Klaus looked up as well, to see who had caused his sister to fall silent. The two Mikaelson siblings stared at her as she lingered in the doorway to the room, her hand gripping the frame.

"I'm sorry," Caroline said, "I was just looking for a TV."

"We don't have a TV," Rebekah answered as if it was the most absurd idea she had ever heard in her entire posh life.

"Oh," Caroline bit her lip, "okay." She continued to hover in the doorway, while Rebekah continued to stare at her.

"We're actually a little busy right now," she said, "so if you wouldn't mind taking your blue doe eyes somewhere else—"

"Actually I do mind," Caroline snapped. She was in a mood now and didn't feel at all like taking any more of Rebekah's curt attitude. Especially when Caroline had never been anything but nice to her. "You know I'm a guest in this house and I don't know how things are done in London, but in Mystic Falls we're actually nice to people who visit us."

Rebekah smirked. "Yes, and I bet you give your guests the nice bales of hay to sleep on when they come to stay in your barn or whatever it is you live in."

"Seriously?" Caroline scoffed. "I may be American and from a small town, but at least I'm not some self important English bitch with a stick up my ass."

Rebekah gaped at her, her mouth hanging open in surprise. She turned to Klaus. "Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"

Klaus held up a defensive hand. "I have no part in this."

It wasn't the defense Rebekah had been looking for. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine," Rebekah growled, "I'll leave. I don't care to stand here and be insulted in my own home."

The blonde spun in the opposite direction of Caroline and stomped out of the room, the angry clacking of her heels growing fainter as she distanced herself from them. Caroline's gaze shifted to Klaus, who was staring at her from his seat. Her shoulders sagged.

"Ok so that's three people I've snapped at today," Caroline muttered, "I guess I'm on a roll."

"Don't worry about Rebekah. She knows she's a brat. She just doesn't like to be called out as one."

Caroline let out an amused snort, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"I'm guessing I was your first victim," Klaus continued, "if my sister was your third then the second would have been…"

"Elena," Caroline finished for him. "We got into a fight in the car on the way back from the photoshoot." Klaus closed his sketchbook and focused on Caroline; she paused for a moment before telling him about their fight in the limo. "You were right, it's always about her."

Klaus heard the bitterness in her voice and could tell the anger was still fresh. Of course he had no love for Elena, but he knew Caroline would get over the fight. They would be back to being joined at the hip by the next morning.

"It's just a spat," he replied, "you'll be over it in the morning."

"Yeah," Caroline muttered, dropping down onto the couch across from him. She let herself sink into the leather, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. "You were right though. It's always her way. It's always about her. Most popular in high school, everyone's best friend, and then she moves out of Mystic Falls and becomes a freakin' world famous actress?" Caroline sat up and folded her legs underneath her, facing Klaus. "You know I had this huge, massive crush on Stefan before she started dating him?"

"Stefan?"

"Stefan Salvatore. Elena's high school boyfriend. Who she was with until about a year ago when they broke up with him because she cheated on him with his brother—which she just shared that little story with me a few days ago." Caroline's blue eyes flashed with remembered anger as she spoke. Klaus tried to stifle his smirk; it was refreshing to know that the moral Ms. Gilbert wasn't without her indiscretions. "Seriously, I was so in love with him and he picked her. She didn't even have to try. I tried so hard and he picked her. It was hell watching them be together, but of course I had to be the nice, understanding friend. I couldn't come between the Mystic Falls golden couple."

Klaus leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, looking up at Caroline's crestfallen face through the top of his eyes. Some wounds, he knew, never healed. No matter how insignificant they might seem in the present.

"Caroline, you're worth ten times more than any Elena Gilbert. Women like her have to work like hell to be what you already are," he said to her.

"And what am I?"

"You're beautiful, you're strong, you're full of light. You really have no idea the effect you have."

Caroline cheeks warmed at his compliment. The intensity of his eyes and the cadence of his voice were things she recognized from the rare moments when he was letting his badass, immune-to-feelings rock persona drop away to reveal the more honest side of himself.

"And a tease?" She shot back, trying to dissolve the seriousness of the conversation.

Klaus smirked. "We all say things we don't mean when we're angry."

"That's interesting," Caroline replied, "because my dad used to say there's more honesty in anger than anywhere else."

"Well it's your choice as to what doctrine to believe," he said.

Caroline smiled and shook her head. All she wanted was an apology, but he was too damn stubborn and prideful to give her one. So she decided to drop it. She knew that once again, he was right. Their fight had been silly anyway.

"I'm still bummed we leave for Paris tomorrow," Caroline sighed, "I'm excited, but I wish I could have seen more of London."

Klaus stood, smiling. "I have an idea."

"I don't know if I trust that look," Caroline replied with feigned suspicion.

"I want to show you a very special museum. Very limited access. Only a few people in all of London have seen it."

Caroline scrunched up her nose. "I don't really feel like going anywhere, this whole thing with Elena…"

"I promise, we don't even have to leave the house," Klaus said extending his hand to her, "come on."

She looked at his open palm and took it, letting him pull her off the couch. Klaus led her out of the living room and down the hall, through the kitchen, and to the far back of the house. He stopped in front of a closed door. Klaus turned back and smirked at her, amused by whatever surprise he had in store. He twisted the knob and opened it to reveal stairs leading down to the cellar.

"After you love," he said flipping the light switch just inside the door. She quirked an eyebrow and took a step down into the cellar. It was still dark at the bottom, the light from above not reaching the rest of the room; she stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for Klaus.

He stepped passed her and reached for another light, lifting the dimmer switches up and illuminating the rest of the vast room. Caroline walked forward, marveling at what she saw around her. It was a mini-museum, just like Klaus had said. There were sculptures made of metal and stone, paintings hung on the walls, each of them lit individually with small rows of track lights. Caroline examined the creations, taking in the works that lay before her. Landscapes and portraits and abstracts. She noticed the signatures at the edge of some of the paintings.

"Esther James," she read out loud.

Klaus touched the writing with the tip of his finger. "My father always hated that my mother used her maiden name in her work."

"These are your mother's?"

"Most of them," Klaus replied, "except those two. Those are mine."

Klaus pointed to two large landscape paintings on the opposite wall. She crossed over to get a closer look at them. They were massive, spanning longer than her arms length. Each one reminded her of Monet, an artist she actually knew something about thanks to her travel reading. The brush strokes were similar; fluid, quick, and passionate, trying to capture a moment before it disappeared forever. But instead of bright, true colors, Klaus tended towards the darker end of the spectrum, a reflection of his own view of the world she thought.

"Klaus these are amazing," Caroline said, her eyes wide with appreciation, "I don't understand why you don't still paint."

"Come on," Klaus said taking her hand again, she couldn't help but notice the way he evaded her question. He led her to the other half of the cellar museum, on the other side of the stairs. There was a small studio set up on that side. Drop clothes spread around different easels holding what seemed to be works in progress. Canvases left on the side up against the wall. A table was center, holding paint brushes, bottles of foggy liquid, tubes of paint, palettes mixed with dried colors. To the right was a large couch, paint stained, but comfy looking.

"So you do still work?"

Klaus shook his head. "These are left from my mother. She would work down here all night sometimes," he said motioning to the sofa, "she'd sleep here a lot."

Caroline noticed a few sketches of a woman on cream-colored paper. "Did you do these?"

"They're Da Vinci originally," Klaus said, "I had a small phase when I was fifteen, I attempted to copy his work."

"You did these when you were fifteen? I'm impressed."

"I wanted to make a portrait of my mother based on his studies, but I never got the chance. Before she died."

Caroline's heart tightened, hearing the sadness in his voice. He only talked about his mother briefly before, in small increments, and seemed to eschew any further mention of her. Caroline realized that Klaus didn't share these things with many people. She didn't imagine that many girls he dated or the limited number of friends he had knew about this place. Maybe Klaus just needed someone to trust, someone to talk to.

"What was she like? And your father, you barely mention him."

Klaus chuckled. "It's a long story."

Caroline looked at the couch, plopping herself down and stretching out her legs. She smiled. "I've got time."

Klaus hesitated for only a moment, grinning at the warmth she radiated in the cold cellar full of painful reminders. He walked over and lifted her legs up, sitting down on the couch, letting her legs fall over his lap. Her expression was attentive; waiting for him to tell whatever story he was about to tell.

"Esther and Mikael—my parents—were very young when they met and, got married very quickly," he began. Speaking of his father's fascination with his mother—her free spirited ways compared to his staunch high-class up bringing—as if they weren't his parents, but two characters in a movie he had seen. "About a year or so after they married, my grandparents passed away, leaving my mother her inheritance. She was urged to keep it away from Mikael, but instead she used it to finance his medical school bills while she continued to paint. A year after that Elijah was born, Mikael started his residency, they moved into this home and were happy. Esther's paintings gained popularity and she began to travel more often and the once happy marriage became more and more strained. Mikael told her that it was time she stay home and be his wife, but she refused to give up her artist's life. The more they fought, the more my mother would stay away. A few years later I was born. With two sons, Mikael finally had the leverage he needed to keep my mother at home. She stopped travelling. And then when I was four, Rebekah was born."

"Mikael continued to work and Esther spent her days with Elijah, Rebekah and I, teaching us. She attempted to pass on her creative spirit to her children. I was the only one that really took to it. Elijah was very sensible and serious, he was like our father. Rebekah and I tended to be the more creative ones," Klaus smirked at a memory from long ago, "she had an early affinity for preforming. My mother let her go on her first audition when she was just ten."

Caroline smiled. She could imagine a tiny Rebekah, reciting lines for her family, as she had been doing for Klaus upstairs. The picture he painted of their lives sounded like a happy one. His mother would foster their talents and abilities, answering to their every notion and dream, letting Rebekah go on auditions, encouraging Klaus to practice his art, and indulging Elijah while he read his books. Klaus even mentioned his mother's attempts at forcing them to broaden their horizons, like when she had tried to teach him piano.

"Elijah was the most resilient of course," Klaus said, "she finally realized that there would only be so much creativity he could muster. But she still loved him."

Klaus told Caroline of the trips that his mother would take him on, the reason why he knew so much about art and history. When they were a bit older, Esther began travelling again, taking Klaus with her most of the time.

"We would stay with her artist friends, I would learn things from them, it was an exciting life," Klaus said, "although perhaps an odd one to grow up in. But I liked being away. I hated being in this house with our father. On the few occasions he deigned to show me any attention at all, I was simply used as a target to release whatever frustrations he harbored during our time away."

"And then, when I was sixteen, Esther found out she had cancer. Within a year, she was dead. And everything change," Klaus's eyes changed to gray as he spoke, his expression growing somber. "Mikael took a leave from the hospital he worked at, but then never went back as soon as he realized he didn't need to work, not when he could use his children to make money. Elijah was already at university, but Rebekah and I were left behind. He sent her to New York, to model and I was forced into more music lessons. Mikael had his plans. We weren't his children, we were in investments. One night I overheard him telling a family friend that he had always tried to push Esther into trying to create something of our talents, but she had always refused. It was a source of much consternation between them."

"She didn't want to use you," Caroline interjected.

Klaus shook his head. "For some reason, it didn't take long for me to be noticed by agents. I started playing with bands, making money, gaining popularity here and I saw a way out. I would be turning 18 soon and I knew Mikael's hold was only going to last so long so I did what he wanted. I worked as a musician, worked to become famous and make money, but I did it my way."

Caroline nodded. "So the rebelousness, the whole Nikluas Mikaelson bad boy persona…"

"Was my way of defying him. Mikael was obsessed with reputations. How would it reflect on him to have a fucked up, philandering son," Klaus explained, "and I quickly discovered the infamy garnered a lot more attention and success than anything else I tried."

"The day after I turned eighteen, I got a call from a hospital in New York. Rebekah had OD'd. I flew there the next day to take care of her, bring her home, and blamed Mikael for what happened to my sister."

"What happened?"

Klaus's expression turned even darker. "Parties and clubs in Manhattan, she was young, and my sister has never had the best judgment when it comes to men."

Caroline nodded understanding the implications, even if he were unable to say the words. She remembered Kol, Klaus's violent reactions in the bar, that made so much more sense now.

"After that I knew I would do whatever it took to keep my family away from Mikael. Elijah too. The three of us worked together to create a life completely independent from our father. We took the money I had earned from my music and moved to America. Elijah started the PR firm, I continued to develop my career, Rebekah finished high school. We were happy again, far away from our father."

"But you weren't really happy," Caroline interjected, "you said you hated music. That there were other things you'd rather be doing."

Klaus waved her off. "My family was more important. Supporting them, keeping them away from Mikael was the important part. I couldn't risk switching career paths and loosing it all. Elijah's business was tied to me, it all fell on me."

"So where is Mikael then? He died?"

Klaus nodded. "And on his deathbed he imparted me with a wonderful bit of knowledge," he smiled bitterly, "that I was not his true son." Caroline's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise. "I was a product of one of my mother's affairs. Of which she had many during her travels across Europe. At first I didn't believe him. But then he died and curiosity got the best of me and I discovered that it was true. I was not his son."

"After hearing all of the stories of my whore mother from Mikael's lips I had my suspicions about Rebekah as well. But both Rebekah and Elijah were Mikael's children. I was the only bastard son."

"Do they know?" Caroline asked.

"Elijah knows," Klaus said, "Rebekah doesn't."

Caroline thought back to the Klaus research she had done at the beginning of their trip. She realized that around the same time Mikael died, was around the same time Klaus had started to go a little off the deep end. The drinking, the drugs—it had to be a side effect of the secrets that had been revealed. She couldn't imagine, finding out things about her own parents that didn't line up with the image she had of them. She wondered about her father, who had come out of the closet when she was eight and her parents divorced. If that secret had never been admitted, she wondered how it might have changed their family. Possibly destroyed it.

"Sometimes I think that Mikael won," Klaus said, "he hated me. For being a constant reminder of his wife's sins. His own shortcomings. He wanted me to be miserable. And I am."

Caroline's heart broke at his expression. "Are you really? Miserable?" Klaus looked at her. "Klaus you have so much. You're family obviously loves you and you are changing. The acting will work out and if it turns out you hate that then you'll do something else. And you know what screw Mikael."

Klaus chuckled. "Screw Mikael?"

"Yeah, he sucked and he's dead so he doesn't matter," Caroline said.

"That's harsh."

"Whatever. He can just...fuck off for making you feel like you are nothing but a mistake."

"My Miss Forbes, what a filthy mouth you have."

Caroline nudged his ribs with her knee. "Oh you have no idea."

Klaus moved forward, crawling on top of her, his face hovering over hers. He smirked at the catch in her breath. "I think I'd like to find out." He said lowering his lips to hers.

They moved the activity up to Klaus's room, rolling onto his bed and getting tangled in his unmade sheets. Klaus liked having her gold and pink against the coal gray of his bed. He kissed her deeply and pulled away, looking down to see her smiling up at him. A yawn escaped her lips causing Klaus to let out a small laugh.

"Boring you love?"

"No," she said her voice thick with exhaustion but she laced her fingers though his curls and pulled his head back down to her. Her lips brushed against his and Klaus couldn't help but think of how intimate it seemed. Maybe it was a result of their storytelling sessions earlier but he felt closer to her, in a way that he hadn't felt to anyone before.

Her hands skimmed around the bottom of his shirt, nails grazing his skin. Klaus felt himself hardening for her—it didn't take much—he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman in his entire life. They had done much more than kiss, but the kissing was good, for some reason that night it seemed like enough, in spite of what the other parts of his body seemed to have in mind.

Klaus pulled her hand up, entwining his fingers with hers above her head, she murmured something unintelligible against his lips as he continued to kiss her and he pulled away to hear what she had to say. Her questioning look was all he needed though. His chest rumbled against hers and he knew they needed to stop now; if they didn't he wouldn't be able to deny her for much longer.

"Sleep now love," Klaus said rolling off of her.

Caroline sat up on her elbows. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I'm sure."

Caroline shrugged and lifted herself off the bed, but Klaus's hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she got very far. He snatched her back, pulling her against his chest.

"Where do you think you're going?" He quipped, locking his arms around her.

"You said sleep…" she replied.

"I think you'll find my bed is very comfortable."

Caroline felt his hand across her back, rubbing against her tired muscles, and she let herself relax against.

"I guess you're right," she said letting her eyelids close.

Klaus, by nature, did not get sentimental very often. But as he took his seat on the airplane, he decided that there was no better way to wake up than with Caroline. His eyes had opened before hers that morning and he looked down to see that he was trapped under her delicious body. She had shifted in the night, throwing her leg over both of his and sprawling herself on top of him. Her nose nuzzled into his chest a bit as the sunlight began to peek through the curtains.

Caroline was thinking about that morning too, while still ignoring Elena and pretending to read her Paris guidebook. She was thinking about how embarrassed she was that she had practically squashed Klaus in the middle of the night. She was thinking about how great he smelled and how by some magic he didn't have weird morning breath. She thought about how messy and gross she must have looked in the morning—something she had not considered when she had agreed to go to sleep in his bed—and mostly she thought about how great it felt to wake up in his arms.

Their talk last night had opened up this whole other side of him; a side that Caroline found intriguing but still dangerous at the same time. She would never say it out loud, but he really was every girl's fantasy. The bad boy with a heart of gold. She remembered having a conversation with Matt one night over beers at the Grill, when he had been dumped by another girl for someone he described as a "dickhead in a leather jacket". She had attempted to explain the girl fascination with boys who were completely wrong for them.

"Why do girls always like guys who are assholes?" Matt had asked her. It was a conversation she knew he could never have with Tyler or Jeremy or any of his other male friends. Caroline put a hand on his shoulder. Poor, sweet Matt; such a good guy, but always overlooked. She could sympathize.

"Because we like to pretend that we can be the ones to save them," Caroline said, "it makes us feel special when their tortured souls seek us out for redemption."

"That doesn't make any sense," Matt had replied.

Caroline didn't understand it either, but she just knew that was how the world worked. Now she had gone and fallen for the bad boy. But that wasn't good. The good girl and the bad boy…when did those relationships ever work out?

By the time they touched down in the city of love, Klaus had a plan. He was going to sweep Caroline off her feet. Klaus knew Paris like the back of his hand and decided that Caroline needed to see it the way it was meant to be seen; to experience the thrill and passion. And there would be passion, Klaus would be damned otherwise. After their night together last night, after all the talks and the kisses and the stolen moments of pleasure he decided there was only one way it could be topped and that way included Caroline's naked body writhing underneath his own.

He made his excuses to her and the rest of their travelling companions so he had the day free to plan their evening together. "Don't make any plans," Klaus had instructed her with a coy smile, telling her that he had claim over her schedule for that evening.

"What do you have in mind?" Caroline asked, intrigued.

"A surprise," he replied dropping a kiss to her lips, "but I promise it will be a night you won't soon forget."

With Klaus busy and Elena mysteriously absent, Caroline was left to her own devices. She went for a walk around the city, venturing into a café for a bit, meandering through the fancy Parisian shops, and fantasizing about her evening with Klaus.

She knew that tonight would be the night. After going back and forth with herself on the plane, she finally realized that she was already too far gone to stop now. If Klaus was going to break her heart, then she might as well go all in. And maybe he wouldn't. Maybe this thing, this flirtation they had could be something real.

Klaus hadn't given her even the tiniest of hints as to what they would be doing that night. She wondered what she should wear for the occasion. A new outfit seemed appropriate. As she browsed through one of the stores, she found a cute yet sexy black and white striped dress. It seemed very French, maybe a little cheesy, but when she put it on she knew it was perfect. Sexy, yet subtle. Seductive, but not looking like she was trying too hard.

Along with not giving her any details about their night, he had also neglected to mention what time he would be taking her out. The afternoon dragged on as her anxiety and expectations grew. Around four she decided to go back to the hotel and start getting ready. The last time she had put this much effort into getting dolled up at been her senior prom. She scrubbed and exfoliated in the shower, shaved her legs, did her nails, curled her hair into perfect waves that framed her face, applied makeup, adding a smoky effect to her eyes. It was fortunate that she had decided to give herself so much time to get ready, but she wanted everything to be perfect. By seven, she was dressed and ready to go, sitting in her hotel room waiting to hear from him. At a quarter past her room phone rang. The concierge informed her, in his thick French accent, that there was a town car waiting for her downstairs.

Caroline bit her lip, smiling, and said she would be right down. Checking her hair and makeup one last time in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch purse and headed downstairs. In front of the hotel she saw a black town car, the driver standing beside the door.

"Mademoiselle Forbes?" He asked her. She nodded and he opened the door for her to slide in. Klaus wasn't inside.

"Where are we going?" Caroline asked as the driver pulled away from the hotel.

"Chez L'Homme," he answered, "beautiful restaurant with an excellent view of the Eiffel Tower." Caroline squirmed in her seat with excitement; a fancy, romantic dinner with a few of the Eiffel Tower. Klaus was doing well so far.

The driver dropped her off in front of the restaurant and she walked inside, her eyes searching the diners.

"Je peux vous aider?" The maitre d' greeted her.

Caroline stammered a bit, unsure of what the man said to her. "Um, I'm Caroline Forbes I'm meeting—"

"Ah yes!" The man smiled, "Mademoiselle, right this way." She followed him through the restaurant and up the stairs. "You will be dining in one of our private rooms," he explained as the walked down the hallway. "Our best view of the tower."

Caroline returned his polite smile. He opened the door to the fifth room, letting Caroline inside. She thanked him and walked in.

Her mouth fell open as she looked towards the window, but it wasn't the view of the shining tower glowing against the backdrop of the blue night sky that rendered her speechless, it was the man standing there, blocking it from site.

"Tyler?" She blinked, unable to believe that he was standing there, in front of her, dressed in a tailored suit. It was the suit he always wore to his mother's fundraising functions and other town events that required him to dress up; Caroline knew it well.

"Caroline," he smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize," Tyler said coming toward her, "I'm an idiot. I've been an idiot. And I'm so, so sorry."

"Well you could have told me over the phone," she replied, still reeling from shock. She looked from side to side, feeling like someone was about to pop out from under the table or behind a curtain and tell her she was being pranked. "You didn't have to come all the way to Paris."

It was insane. Romantic, but insane. A manic giggle left her throat. She couldn't believe it. In the entire time they had been together, Tyler hadn't ever made any grand gestures; it just wasn't who he was as much as she had always wished for it. Someone needed to pinch her to prove that she wasn't dreaming.

"Actually I did need to come here," Tyler said taking her hands in his, "there's something I have to say to you that I can't say over the phone."

"What is it Tyler?"

Caroline gasped as he slowly released her hands and sunk down onto one knee.

Klaus knocked on Caroline's door at half past seven. He felt nervous. For one of the first times in his life, he felt nervous about impressing a woman. But he told himself everything would be fine. It would be more than fine, it would be perfect. He had thought about taking her to dinner, in front of the tower, with romantic candlelight and champagne, but no she deserved more than that. It had to be creative and unique. Something unforgettable. A memory that would surpass anything other she had or had yet to experience. Other men may come into her life, but Klaus was determined to leave his imprint on her.

He'd always assumed that his fling with Caroline would be just that—a fling. Sex and romance and passion throughout their summer trip. Then Caroline would go back to Mystic Falls and Klaus would resume his life in L.A. It was never meant to be anything more. But the thought of other men in her life flared up an unusual amount of jealousy within him. He remembered the feeling when he had watched her and Kol together. Or when she had first mentioned Tyler. He knew that Caroline did not belong to him, the same way he didn't belong to her, or any woman, and never would. But he still felt a niggle of possessiveness when he considered how she would move on after she returned home.

He knocked again, a bit more forcefully, his impatience getting the better of him. When she didn't answer the second time, he put his ear to the door, listening for any movement. Was she in there hiding from him? Getting cold feet again perhaps?

The door across the hall opened and Elena, stood there.

"Oh," she said when she saw him, "what are you doing?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm looking for Caroline."

"Why?" Elena asked.

Klaus fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Caroline hadn't mentioned anything to Elena about the two of them, but Klaus hadn't exactly made it a point to keep his interest in the girl a secret. Was the Gilbert girl really that self-absorbed? Even Rebekah had picked up on his true interests before they had left London.

"No reason," he evaded, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. Even if Elena was vapid enough not to notice, Klaus could respect Caroline's wishes to keep their—whatever it was—a secret.

"Well she's out," Elena said, "I don't think she'll be back until later."

Klaus's eyes narrowed. Out? He had told her to leave her evening free. What could she have been doing instead? "And you aren't with her this evening?"

Elena shook her head. "No, she's with her boyfriend, Tyler."

Now there was a surprise. "Tyler?"

"Yeah. He flew over here yesterday. He's going to surprise her and propose," Elena said, "I helped hook him up."

"You think she'll accept?"

"Of course," Elena replied, "they've had their differences, but they love each other. They're just one of those couples you know. Meant to be."

No, he didn't know.

Klaus stood there in the hallway, his fist clenching at his side. Elena threw him an odd look before retreating to her room and shutting the door. He glared at the numbers on the white door and wondered how angry Elijah would be with him if tomorrow's headlines read: Infamous rockstar brutally murders actress girlfriend.

So we'll find out more about Tyler's sudden appearance in the next chapter.

Apologies for bad french. :p

Also, I hope Klaus's history made sense. It requires a bit of reading between the lines. Basically Mikael's characterization is inspired by the song Antichrist Television Blues by Arcade Fire, which is about Joe Simpson aka Ashlee and Jessica Simpson's father.

Anyways, let me know your thoughts! And thank you to everyone who has voted for me in the Klaroline Awards. Today is the last day of voting and you can still vote even if you don't have a tumblr. Just head over to the Klaroline Awards Tumblr.

and follow me at Hybridlovelies