mashka-mashka said: Caroline is killed by Silas, the veil is lifted, Klaus' reactions to seeing Caroline again.
He was a patient man. He was a vengeful man.
Now, for the first time in a thousand years, he was none of these things.
He'd dropped everything, Marcel, his family, the baby, his revenge for getting her back. He'd bent over backwards, basically placed himself under the thumb of the one man he wanted to kill the most. Ironically enough, that man wanted to die himself. But they shared the mutual interest of dropping the veil so he had chased down Abby, locked down the Salvatores and abducted both the doppelganger and the busboy to get the Bennet witch to do her part. Not that she needed the motivation but he needed to be sure.
It was the only thing keeping him from burning down the whole bloody western civilization.
He knew she'd seen, watched everything. Which was why he had refrained from treating his hostages the way he really yearned to. (Broken bones, ripped out organs, vervein, acid, for that matter, burn down the whole bloody planet.)
But no, he'd pushed back every notion that held any characteristic he identified with in this state of frenzy that clouded his mind, everything, every thought, every fragment reduced to this one goal, this one need of reviving her from the dead. All things other than that had ceased to exist.
He was positive he'd lose what was left of his sanity if he failed.
There were moments he was actually glad he hadn't burned the white oak stake.
But now she was back, here before him, staring at him with wide eyes full of wonder and fright.
And he, as well, motionless as stone.
At first that was the only sign that revealed to his mind that something had changed, shifted, that the frenzy was over. He was not moving.
First he couldn't. Then, he was afraid to scare her.
After everything that had happened, he had done, she had seen, things were hardly the same anymore. And yet, he couldn't act upon impulse since she was everything he had, the single thing left in the breath and width of his mind and somehow he felt like he had to treat her like she was fine china.
Like she would vanish if he touched her. Like she would leave if he made a wrong move.
Her blonde curls, waving down on her shoulders (he wanted to run his hands through them, to see if they were real, if they felt like the day he'd comforted her after-) and her beautiful, magnificent (so innocent, yet so mature) face, her stance, her scent – she had him mesmerized right where he was standing.
Whatever happened to Silas and the rest of them, he could not care less.
And then there was her, her expression molding into a quiet sort of maturity and she was walking up to him, placing her hand on his cheek.
And he found himself staring down at her, immobile yet again. She was really here.
"Thank you," she said.