The day was humid and heavy but thankfully bitten with a cool breeze. Stepping out of her car, Caroline swept her long bangs out of her face and looked up at the shadow of the Mikaelson house. To deny the anxiousness that crept over her skin would ring untrue.
She didn't see Klaus that morning. It had been spent the usual way: coffee in the library before dressing and grooming and grabbing some fruit and a blood bag before leaving for The Mystic Grill. Caroline hadn't been sure if she was ready to see him, but that hadn't stopped her slippered feet from padding in front of his bedroom door on her way through the wing. His breath had been audible through the heavy oak, a sure sign of his slumber, so she had gone about her business. He must have had a hard time finding sleep after the previous night's events. She knew that it had been a problem for her to catch Z's when the taste of him still simmered across her palette.
Taking a long, calming breath, the blonde closed the door of her car and walked toward the daunting conversation looming ahead of her.
Upon crossing the threshold, it was clear something was amiss. The strong scent of whiskey sat thickly in the air. It sent images of the night Elena had doused the Gilbert house in bourbon racing through her head. It wasn't merely a glass left sitting on a random table; it reeked of a higher quantity. Walking around the foot of the staircase, Caroline made her way to the parlor. It didn't take long once her heels clicked down those few steps into the room to find the source of the harsh, sweet odor. One of the Mikaelson's beautiful crystal decanters had been shattered against a wall. Amber liquid trailed darkly down the paneling and pooled on the floor, the wood peppered with jagged glass.
It was then that another scent invaded her senses causing the vampire in her to perk. Once her nose had found it, her eyes followed quickly. There amidst the faceted shards were drops of that unmistakable fluid.
Blood.
A sharp breath fell out of the blonde as a sense of dread settled. Had someone been to the house? Where was Klaus? As if the walls themselves heard the questions swirling in her head a harsh shout came from upstairs followed by the crackling twang of more glass crashing into ruin. The shouts were angry; they were desperate and pained.
"Klaus?!" Caroline called out in a panic speeding up the stairway. Reaching the top she followed the sounds of destruction. They were coming from the studio. The powerful crack of a large piece of wood being snapped reverberated through the hall before a sudden, curious silence settled. Her fingers curled around the brass knob and pushed the weighty door to the studio open.
Caroline had seen Klaus lose his temper in the past two weeks. She had witnessed just the night before him losing his control, but this . . .
The room was in ruins. Tables were flipped, vases shattered, but the most heartbreaking was the canvases. Canvas after canvas of new and old works were littered all about the room torn brutally or merely hanging limply from their broken wooded frames. The space was darkened by a dangling curtain rod that draped the heavy fabric across the window at a catawampus angle. There was an antique gilded mirror that Caroline had admired a few times while keeping Klaus company and watching him paint that was now shattered and splayed where it had fallen sharply against the floorboards.
Confusion and worry filled her up upon seeing his room, his sanctuary, brought to such disarray. Blinking rapidly, her blue orbs danced about the studio searching. It was the sounds of labored breaths that drew her eyes to the corner.
There he sat huddled in the crook of the room, barefooted, dressed only in a pair of paint-marred jeans. Klaus' face was downturned as he leaned forward his arms laid straight out in front of him resting on top of the knees that were bent up before him. His curly hair stuck up at all angles as if it had been tugged and raked several times through. Drawing closer, Caroline could see in the single ray of sunlight allowed into the room the crimson liquid that trailed in lines down his fingers. The wounds on his knuckles, some of them already healed some still stuck with large shards of mirror, were deep enough to create little pools on the flooring below.
He was as yet unaware of her presence. Klaus' chest raised and lowered quickly. His throat swallowing roughly to keep back the sounds that threatened to burst forth from his chest.
Stepping forward slowly, Caroline softly spoke, "Klaus?"
Hearing her voice was jarring to the hybrid as evident by a sudden tension along his shoulders and a halt in his breathing.
He didn't respond but, after a moment, could swear he could feel the warmth of her approach.
"Klaus, what happened?" her small voice asked from beside him.
What happened? The thought of telling her was like a thousand needles puncturing his chest.
Klaus was so tired . . . so tired of being held captive by the extremities of his emotions. How could he tell her that he fell apart yet again?
He had been irritated by Elijah's insistence on leaving him with someone. As if The Hybrid needed a caregiver, yet here he was, proving that he indeed had lost himself so completely that he could no longer trust his own control.
Before, he would have punched a tree and ran off to be alone, but apparently he had graduated to blinding rage and property damage. Klaus had only just disengaged from his artistic carnage when Caroline had come in and, honestly, he didn't know how he felt about her being there; that is until he felt the smooth pressure of her fingers curl around his forearm. A touch. A single touch that brought him back to the moment. Suddenly desperate for the feel of her, the comfort of her, his other arm shot over and his own hand grasped firmly around her wrist.
Lifting his head, his eyes landed on the woman kneeling beside him. The small bit of light streaming in from the window illuminated the side of Caroline's face and hair as she looked back at him with furrowed brows and a hint of water in her blue eyes. He must have been quite the sight to her; a pitiful, tear-stained mess bewailing from his place on the floor.
"Are you—" she started before stopping. Obviously he was not okay. It would be stupid to ask. The vampire's eyes glided over him before deciding now was not the time for questions. "Come with me," she said sweetly tentatively sliding her hand from his arm and grasp ignoring the bloody handprint he left behind. Upon standing she reached back down to beckon him to join her.
Klaus' eyes narrowed at the hand hovering just in front of him. She must of thought him so weak. Perhaps he was upset, but he refused to be treated as an invalid. He did not need her help. Clearing his throat, the hybrid stood abruptly, using the wall as leverage. "I'm not a child, Caroline. I do not need your pity or assistance," he spat self-deprecatingly, his eyes shining with residual emotion.
It stung, but she knew him well enough to see where his anger stemmed from. Retracting her hand, Caroline let a breath fall from her lips. "I don't pity you, Klaus."
The blonde turned before he could respond, pacing out of the studio and down the hall through the wing. He followed, his eyes downcast. When she twisted the knob to her room and motioned with her head for him to follow, he obliged anxiously. Stepping into her room was like a warm blanket of Caroline. How she managed to scent the room so completely in two weeks was a mystery, but the smell of her clung to the very walls, clean and sweetly floral. Klaus probably would not have noticed as a human, but now with hybrid senses, he could sense the difference between the warm, compressed aroma of a slept in bed and the cool air of perfume wafting from her en-suite bathroom.
"Klaus?" her voice chimed from the bathroom doorway shaking him from his sensory exploration.
He strode quietly behind her into the restroom and planted himself on the edge of the tub. Moments before he had been angry with her, but here, in her rooms, on her turf, he trod with care. Klaus had not visited her quarters since her first day in the house when she had merely been a stranger. Now, though, he felt an intruder in a lady's domain and chose to sit diffidently awaiting her intentions.
Caroline busied herself about the small space.
Klaus sighed silently at the sound of running water. His hands finally began to smart drawing his attention down to assess the damage. Smashing his fists repeatedly into his own reflection had been cathartic and the initial pain welcome and sobering, but he had made quite the mess.
A bowl in the sink was brimming with hot water as Caroline retrieved a towel and some washcloths. After placing them next to the tub, she returned to the sink for the bowl, stepping lightly back to him. Kneeling in front of the hybrid, Caroline didn't hesitate before reaching for his hands. "Let me see."
The soft contact of her overly warm fingers against his bloody hands was unexpected. Jerking back, his eyes shot up to hers. Almost immediately his face sank, ashamed of his reaction.
Her heart broke to see him so jumpy. The curiosity was killing her. What had happened in the few hours she had been gone? Deciding it was best to continue to be patient, she stayed still, her eyes meeting his once more, her hands softly resting on his knees with upturned palms. It only took a few silent moments before his eyes dropped to study her dainty hands and his slid back into them. Asserting gentle pressure, Caroline waited until she met his eyes again before turning her attention to removing the glass that had found a home in his flesh.
Klaus barely flinched as she pulled out piece by piece and deposited them on one of the washcloths; he was instead distracted by peering down at the long lashes that stood darkly out against the pale blush of her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he murmured gruffly feeling very foolish for snapping and pulling away from her. His demons were his own and not any fault of Caroline's. He hated being weak and yet he managed to prove his shortcomings at every opportunity.
The vampire pulled at a particularly stubborn shard that had been lodged between his knuckles and, upon seeing a short grimace from Klaus, a small, innocently jesting smile curled up one side of her mouth. "No worries, I think I'm getting my revenge," she teased.
Disarmed by her joke, he huffed out a breathy chuckle being immediately rewarded with a bright grin from his nurse. Silence followed. The air was full of her questions, questions he couldn't avoid forever. "What do you know about my mother?"
Caught off-guard by his question, Caroline's blonde brows furrowed as she peeked up at him. His expression was perfectly serious with a heavy dose of somber admission. Her vision dropped to his hands to pluck out the last bit of glass. After checking that the cuts were healing, she dunked a washcloth in the bowl of hot water and ran it along the long hands he held out in front of them. "Only some. I've heard stories," she responded casually.
"Do you know how she died?" he asked, his voice thick as it formed the question. Flashes of his hands gripped tightly around Esther's throat slashing harshly through his mind.
"Yes," she answered kneeling slowly to dump the ruddy water from the bowl down the tub drain.
Klaus' eyes were unfocused on the floor when he said, "I killed her. I killed my own mother?" Saying the words out loud, he was suddenly unsure. Peering up at his blonde friend he witnessed the sympathy swirling in her eyes. Sympathy and then, over the course of a few seconds, confusion and curiosity.
"Did Elijah tell you about that?"
Klaus gulped lightly as he stood. It was true. "No," he hummed drying his hands and taking listless steps over the tiles to the bathroom door. "Only that she was dead."
"Hold up," she yelped tossing the mirror shards into the waste basket before shoving the towels into the hamper and following him out to her room. "Your mom died after you were turned, how do you know you killed her?"
Hearing her coming up behind him, Klaus turned, his stubbled jaw clenching to prevent his eyes from watering. He had killed his mother. What kind of monster was he? "It doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't! How did you know, Klaus?"
His eyes studied the lines in the floorboards, ""Love—"
"—How?" Her clear voice was demanding and excitable.
Raising his sight, his eyes met her eager expression. "I dreamt it."
Caroline's brows came together as she absorbed the information. "You dreamt it? What exactly did you dream?"
"I dreamt I killed her, Caroline!" He abruptly spat, the volume of his voice rising and echoing against the walls in a sudden burst of irritation. Dear Lord she was persistent. "What do the details matter?"
"They matter," she defended grabbing his arm which he swiftly and violently shook off.
"Why?!" he grumbled curtly taking a few steps from her and shifting his attention to the painting above the headboard.
Caroline needed to know. A dream could just be a dream, or it could be more. She had to know. Taking a calming breath, she languidly walked in front of him where he stood beside the foot of the bed. Raising her hands, she lightly pressed her fingers and palms around Klaus' neck in a comforting gesture and pulled lightly, barely, at his chin, timidly asking for his eyes. She waited until a sigh fell out of him and he relaxed beneath her touch, his sight locking with hers. "It's important," was all she sadly uttered.
Klaus licked his lips briefly, his eyes nervously peering away from hers again when he answered, "I went to see my mother after she cursed me. I didn't understand why she had to take my wolf away. She called me a monster." He paused then, a short sardonic laugh puffing out of his mouth as he shook his head and pulled her hands down off of him not wanting to soil her with his sin. The hybrid's eyes glistened and flooded. "I guess she was right," he murmured half-heartedly before his eyes darted back to hers and his shoulders set, "I guess she was right because the next thing I knew I had my hands around her neck. I strangled her."
Listening to his words, watching his face dance with remorse, self-hate and unshed tears was enough to send a lone drop gliding down Caroline's cheek.
The tear was small, but it might as well been sharp and barbed by the way it stung him. That tear, the proof of her disappointment in him. Klaus' eyes slammed shut and his hands balled up beside him.
"Klaus—"
"—Don't." The Original felt her step nearer to him but wouldn't look.
He was closing her out, she knew, and Caroline was never one to concede defeat to Niklaus Mikaelson. You'd think she'd have learned her lesson the night before, but no. She pressed. Reaching, the blonde grasped one of his clutched hands and brought it to her face trying to coax him back out. She softly rubbed the rough knuckles of his fist against her cheek. "Klaus, look at me."
He wouldn't. He didn't want to see the pity he knew would be there staring back at him. Shaking his head his eyes opened to the floor and he waited, his hand loosening its grip in proximity to her delicate features.
Her cheek was soft as if powdered and warm against his fingers, her breath tickling across the inside of his wrist. Soon, her thin fingers brushed along the top of his hand creating a lovely sensation that had his fist inching open all on its own to better feel the supple texture of her skin. Taking advantage, Caroline pressed the side of her face into his palm, her flaxen hair curling around his fingertips, her cheekbone a firm, silken curve beneath the pad of his thumb. "Please?" Caroline sweetly asked.
There with her face held in his palm, he couldn't deny her. Slipping his eyes to hers, he couldn't imagine looking away. She was enchanting, but the intimacy of their position afforded him an engaging perspective.
"I'm sorry you had to relive that," she hummed before a hopeful grin broke out along her lips, "but do you know what this means?"
Klaus had a feeling he knew what had her eyes twinkling with excitement and her body vibrating with energy, but he needed to hear her confirm it.
Caroline's goofy smile sobered into a calm line, and she continued without waiting for him to answer, "You did strangle your mother 1000 years ago. You killed her for cursing you. You didn't just dream that." She couldn't help it, the toothy grin came back. "You remembered it." She beamed and her hand curled around his bicep as she attempted to contain her feelings. "This whole time we've been assuming—hoping!—that the memories were suppressed and not eliminated. This is proof, Klaus! Proof that you haven't lost them for good! You can get them back! Elijah and Kat will find the witch, and they will undue all of this!" she exclaimed caught up in the idea, not really aware of the dark expression that slowly overtook his features. Klaus was coming back! All of him.
"At what cost?" his voice severely asked.
Her eyes sunk back into his, and her smile faltered. "What?" her voice chirped quietly.
"I'm not sure I want them anymore, Caroline," Klaus dejectedly stated.
"Klaus, come on. Of course you do," she responded shaking her head at his unfunny joke, her smile completely failing with the fear that he was serious.
"Why would I want to remember the things that turned me into a man that would kill his own family? Hmm?" Removing his hand from her cheek, Klaus backed up causing her hands to drop down in front of her, "Why would I want to be the monster that hurt you and Gods know how many others? Why would I want that? Why would you want that?" He asked pointing at her.
Caroline was speechless. His words had triggered a wild flurry of thoughts. Why would she want that? Trying to find steady footing, her brain desperately grasped at the most predominant thought, the most predominant idea. "Because I want you," she whispered.
Klaus' eyes widened infinitesimally, and he froze. His voice was almost a whisper itself when he asked, "What did you say?"
Caroline had about five seconds to freak out about saying that before things got awkward.
"Caroline?" he pressed with an edge in his tone.
"I don't know," she put lamely, her arms rising and falling beside her in lazy exasperation. "You are my friend. You've been maybe one of my best friends over these past couple months. Yes, you've done horrible things, but that's not who you are. You let me see a glimmer of who you really were and what I saw . . . it wasn't monstrous." Sighing, her shoulders fell.
Klaus listened attentively as she went on, his skin nearly crawling in anticipation of what she had to say.
"I am your friend, Klaus, but I was your friend before too. I grew . . . attached to who you were," she admitted. "You did bad things, but—" Caroline stopped and shook her head, beginning again. "If you don't get your memories back, I will still care about you, but I will also . . . " she tried with failing conviction in her words. How was she supposed to explain something she was only just figuring out herself?
"Mourn who I was before?"
Caroline's eyes bounced up and met with his. Klaus' expression was unreadable. "Yes," she uttered.
As pretty as her words might have seemed to him three weeks ago, now he felt empty. Second best to himself. It was an abrupt reminder that Caroline was only with him out of loyalty to a man he didn't even know. Nice to him out of pity until she could get the real Klaus back. Here he was stupid enough to think they had something important between them, but, to her, he was merely a shadow of his former self. She wouldn't want him if he remained this pathetic, damaged husk. "I understand," he mouthed bitterly turning from the room and pacing to the door.
The hurt in the hybrid's eyes was obvious, and it was painful to witness. She hadn't said it right. "Klaus, no, wait, that's not what I meant."
"I think we both know what you meant, Caroline," Klaus directed over his shoulder with a tense jaw.
"No," she firmly stated grabbing his arm and pulling him back eliciting a growl from the hybrid. She begged her brain to come up with the correct words, but they wouldn't come. Flustered, she just let her mouth speak absent of her mind. "I care about you. You are my friend with or without the memories. I keep making the mistake of thinking of you as two different people, but the truth is that no matter what you remember, it doesn't change who you are deep down. I like you like this," she affirmed nodding her head stepping toward him. "Everything you are now is proof that beneath the things you've done, this is real. Evidence that what I see in you is real and not some sort of defense mechanism, a lie I tell myself so I can sleep with the knowledge that I care . . . more than you know.
"You don't want your memories back because you haven't liked what you've seen, what you've heard. But, I need you to think about this: You don't remember how you were, I do. I do, Elijah does, and we want your memories back. We want back the part of you you think is bad or . . . or evil. I was there when you spoke the color into a vampire life, when I was hurt and scared and you showed up and held me and told me I was safe with you . . . "
Klaus' eyes bore into hers. The hallway. The burns on her cheeks and the fear in her eyes. It had been real. A memory as well.
" . . . when you saved my prom with an amazing dress," she laughed, "just because you knew that it was important to me to have the perfect night, or when you, despite your every effort to screw up my relationship with Tyler, pardoned him. Pardoned him so that I could be happy, even though you wanted me for yourself." Caroline took a breath and smiled softly remembering these events all over again. "You are not a monster, Klaus. Your mom betrayed you . . . multiple times! I'm not saying that it's ok to kill because you know me better, but your misdeeds do not make you irredeemable." Finally finished with what felt like a ridiculously lengthy monologue, she took a deep breath and stood awaiting his response.
The hybrid didn't know what to say as he stood there with furrowed brows. He didn't know what to think. He was touched, truly, but there was an apprehension within him that still lingered. Was it worth losing his humanity so that he could remember a few good times? So that she would look at him with admiration and not as a broken shell. To become the man capable of hurting others or to stay as he was and live knowing that he was not what she wanted, what Elijah wanted, a consolation prize.
"Say something," her small voice hummed pulling him from his thoughts.
Without words to answer her, he brought his sight to her graceful features. He didn't expect the look he found there. Caroline's eyes were welled and insecurity blushed her cheeks after her words were left hanging on the air. He returned his hand to her cheek and did the only thing he could imagine might reassure her without spouting some lie that would only sour once uttered: his lips descended and pressed firmly against the skin on her forehead. Unconsciously, Klaus inhaled the scent of her hair and then pulled her into a warm embrace.
At first, Caroline tensed. Klaus was hugging her. Actually hugging her. For a split second she thought about freaking out about it and pulling away, but instead she sighed. It felt good to be close to him. She felt exhausted from the last twenty minutes and his hold was grounding. Breathing deeply she let her head nuzzle into his neck and, feeling indulgent, her arms rose up and wrapped around his neck lifting slightly on her toes to bring her body in tighter against his. Without direction, peacefully her eyelids shut.
Moments passed until Klaus' hold slackened and he pulled away, "I," he started clearing his throat, " I should go clean up the studio."
"You don't have to do that now."
A small smirk slid up the side of his mouth, "On the contrary, Love. If I don't do it, we both know I'll find you in there with a bottle of that foul chemical scrubbing away at the ceilings within minutes."
A genuinely humored scoff bubbled out of her chest. "Bleach isn't foul. Bleach is the cleanest smell."
"It's vile," he corrected turning to walk out of her room.
"Klaus?"
"Hmm?" he hummed shifting to look back at her.
Caroline paced forward feeling a wave of impulse. Stepping into him, she ignored his wide, confused eyes and pressed her lips sweetly against his. The kiss lasted the shortest of moments, just a slow, firm connection before ending. When she pulled back her eyes opened up to his.
His blue irises flicked back and forth between her eyes as he regarded her, perplexed.
"You aren't a monster," she reaffirmed before stepping back.
Klaus blinked rapidly trying to process her actions. Her mouth was just as perfect as it had been the night before, but this time it held within its kiss more care and feeling. Licking his lips he merely shared with her a look before retreating out the door.
As soon as his bare feet padded out of her room her eyes grew three sizes and her brained deadpanned, "Oh holy jesus . . . what did I just do?" With a calm she did not feel, Caroline walked to her door and shut it. If she was going to have a panic attack, best to do it privately. Backing away from the exit slowly she lowered herself to a seat on the plush mattress, her palms coming down beside her to rest on the blue and white bedclothes.
She just kissed Klaus. I mean sure, the kiss the previous night had been way more . . . well more, but that was easily blamed on the heat of the moment. The conversation had ended; he was leaving; kissing him without provocation was purely on her, and he had given her nothing, no indication of how he felt about it, before leaving the room. Oh God, what if he didn't want her to kiss him. How humiliating! Oh God, oh God, what if he did and now he thinks they are on kissing terms.
The blonde fell back on her bed with a bewildered expression.
Kissing terms with Klaus?
Kissing terms with Klaus . . .
Her thin fingers crept up to her chin and rubbed against her bottom lip as she thought about the hybrid's dark, plump lips and how warm and soft they felt against hers.
Kissing terms with Klaus.
A bashful ghost of a smile tickled along her mouth.
The muted sound of her house mate starting to stack ruined canvases in the studio down the hall pulled her from her girlish reverie. It was going to take forever to get that room back to rights.
Suddenly a horrifying thought occurred to her.
"Shit!" she exclaimed jumping off the bed and speeding downstairs.
The alcohol that spilled in the parlor was going to ruin the hardwood floors!
Please review! I hope you enjoyed it!
I kinda struggled with these last two chapters. I'm struggling in general with this story because it's so different from what I wrote in P&B. Compared to the back to back plot of that fanfiction, this one feels like it is more character driven, and I am sooooo not used to that. I challenged myself knowing it would be difficult, but it's making it hard to take advantage of my writing time. At least the second half of this story (when we get there) will feel like more familiar territory, and, perhaps, I'll be able to provide updates more often.
I'll update as soon as I can. I'm more than likely going to continue with the two chapters at once pattern. I've worked out a writing schedule around Baby, so I'm getting a little better on timing, even if it doesn't seem like it.