Author's notes:
An update! And it took me only two weeks. I'm so proud of myself! Ha!
I hope you will like this chapter. Please, don't hesitate to share your impressions (good or bad) or to ask me a question. I love reading your comments and interacting with you.
As usual, thank you for reading! For being here.
This is unbeta'd. (I fixed some mistakes in the previous chapters.)
Happy reading!
She had been there for only a few days but she could say with absolute certainty that she loved England; it felt like home. Or maybe it was because she was finally reunited with Nik, after being apart from him for so long.
Three years.
Three years of missed firsts. Three years of phone calls and emails and short visits. Barely enough to soothe the constant ache she felt at his absence.
Three years of missing him.
And then her parents had surprised her with plane tickets, their present to her for graduating high school. The most beautiful present they could ever give her.
A whole summer with Nik.
And then, she would go back to the States, to start college. Without him.
But now – now – they were enjoying the summer day in Richmond upon Thames, sitting on the grass along the embankment, near the bridge.
Blue sky and singing birds. Barges and blue water. Houses, history and happy people.
She watched as Nik tried to capture the beauty of the scenery on paper – the comforting shade of the trees, the limitless azure sky, and the sunlight that reflected on the water, like a trail of diamonds –, he looked focused and relaxed as he worked on his watercolor.
And a bit different too. She guessed she had changed a little bit too.
It had been strange at first. To witness Nik's life – a life from which she was absent. He had a girlfriend now. Beautiful and sweet. And exotic. Perfect without even trying.
''Do you love Lara?'' she asked him suddenly.
''Why do you ask?'' he asked with a hint of a smile, adding touches of light to his painting.
''You're different when you're with her,'' she said, putting the book she had been reading in her lap.
''How different?'' The smile was still on his lips as he turned toward her.
''I don't know. Less serious. So, do you love her?'' she asked him again.
She was just curious. Really. He had never talked about Lara – or any other girl, for that matter – when he knew everything about her first love. She had loved him like only a foolish heart could love, had given herself wholly, completely, and still, in the end, it had not been enough.
And it had hurt. So much.
But she was over it now. They were just not meant to be.
''You're a hopeless romantic, Caroline,'' he said with a shake of his head. ''But I'm not.'' He looked up at her. ''Love is a remedy to loneliness. An illusion.''
She could not believe that. She could not believe that the pounding in her chest was an illusion. And she could not believe that he did not feel anything.
He cared about her, about Rebekah.
He cared.
As much as he denied it.
He cared.
''But you love Rebekah.''
''Bekah is my family, Caroline. It's not the same,'' he said, and she frowned.
''What about me then? I'm not your family –'' He did not let her finish. He gripped her hand tightly, his face a mixture of shock and indignation. ''Of course you are!'' He seemed offended that she could imply that there were no ties between them, and it was sweet in a way – to be reassured about her place in his life, and in his heart – even when he swore he did not have one.
''What about Lara then?'' She asked again.
''Lara and I, we enjoy each other, that's different,'' he said without hesitation.
''How can you say that?''
''We're not in love,'' he continued, with a shrug.
''But why? She is perfect. How can you not be in love with her? And how can't she love you? You're – you.''
''That I am,'' he replied, with an other smile.
''You know what I mean,'' she said, rolling her eyes.
He was perfect. That was what she meant.
He looked at her. ''Some people are not meant to love,'' he said very simply, and he returned to his watercolor.
''I don't believe that. I refuse to believe that.''
He smiled again. ''As I said, you're a hopeless romantic.'' She huffed at his words.
''Laugh all you want Mikaelson. But one day – one day – you'll fall in love, and trust me when I say that I'll be there to tell you 'I told you so'.''
''Perhaps in a thousand years,'' he replied with a smirk.
Maybe some people were not meant to love.
But that did not mean that they were not meant to be loved.
~o~
''Thank you,'' she said with a smile. She took the pastries and the coffee, and went out in the cold crisp morning. She walked, feeling the sun on her face. Closed her eyes and sighed.
Today was a beautiful day.
She walked down a few blocks until she was standing in front of the building where Klaus spent most of his time now. Away from all the unsaid. And could she blame him? When all she had done for the longest time was hide from her feelings, feelings she did not have a name for. Feelings that she had stored – locked – in a secret part of her heart, and refused to acknowledge – dismissed every time they tried to break free until they had become an unspoken part of her. Hopes and dreams that were simply not meant to be. That could never be – that would never be.
And she had accepted it. A long time ago. So long ago.
And then –
And then he gave her his heart and she did not know anymore. Could not think anymore.
He thought she did not love him when it was quite the opposite. It was just that she – she had not been ready. Still was not sure that he –
That he felt that kind of love. For her.
But she would never know if she did not take a chance.
And so, she went through the revolving doors and into the elevator. The doors opened after a two minute ride and she walked to the front desk.
''Hello, Greta,'' she said to the young woman behind the desk, with a friendly smile.
''Caroline! What a pleasant surprise,'' Greta greeted her. ''We haven't seen you in a while.''
''I know. How are you?''
''Fine, thanks. Let me ring M. Mikaelson.'' Caroline nodded, feeling her heart thumping in her chest, almost painfully.
What was she doing here, really? Why was she even here?
She thought of all the those weeks of agonizing silence. Them drifting apart. Maybe it was already too late. Maybe he did not feel it anymore.
Maybe it had all been a quirk. The result of drunkenness and circumstances.
Maybe –
Greta's voice interrupted her thoughts. ''He's waiting for you.''
''Thank you, Greta.'' She offered her an other smile and walked through the corridor, past the double doors and stood in the heart of the Lockwood's campaign headquarters. A long field of open offices swarming with people and agitation; she walked past them, heading toward the main office. The only one with a door.
She lightly knocked, trying to balance the coffee and the box, and frowned when she heard laughter on the other side of door.
Feminine and light.
The door opened, revealing him, polished and cool, an easy smile on his lips. And she wished she could see him smiling more often. Wished that she could make him smile like that.
''Caroline. I wasn't expecting you,'' he greeted her, still smiling. Only his smile seemed more guarded now that he was looking at her.
''I thought we could have coffee together,'' she said, hopeful. ''But – I see you're busy,'' she looked at the blonde woman who was sitting behind him. Beautiful and elegant.
Klaus turned toward the young woman. ''Caroline, this is Camille. She's been working with Marcel and I.''
Camille.
''Camille, this is Caroline, a friend.'' She looked at him, stunned by his words, tried not to let show that they stung somehow.
A friend.
Undefined. A dot in his life.
Insignificant.
Her eyes fell back on the beautiful Camille. Graceful and relaxed. Looking like she belonged here.
''Hello,'' she said, feeling out of place as she stood awkwardly with her coffee and pastries.
Unneeded and unexpected.
''Hello Caroline,'' Camille replied amiably. There was something gentle in her eyes that reminded her of Bonnie. ''I have to go anyway.'' She smiled at her again, and stood up.
''We'll continue this later,'' Klaus said, and the blonde woman nodded.
''Alright.'' Camille took her bag from the floor. ''It was nice meeting you, Caroline,'' she said, offering her an other smile as she walked past her. ''Goodbye.''
''Goodbye.'' She watched as Camille closed the door behind her.
''Is everything alright?'' he asked her, taking the coffee and the box from her hands and putting them on his desk.
''Of course,'' she said as she went to sit by the window. ''Everything's fine.'' He nodded.
''Let's have this coffee, then,'' he said. ''I have to see Richard Lockwood in half an hour.'' She took the coffee he was handing her.
There was an other pause.
''What is the matter, Caroline?'' he asked her again.
''Nothing,'' she said with a forced smile.
Nothing.
~o~
''I hope you have good news,'' Richard said as he confidently walked into his office, and sat behind his desk. Like a king on his throne.
Bastard.
Good news.
A fatherless child. Probably unwanted by its mother.
Yes, I have good news.
''The child is not yours if that's what you're referring to, and the girl had accepted the money,'' he said, facing the man he had once considered a mentor, handing the papers that the teenage girl had signed.
''Good,'' he looked at the papers but did not take them.
Problem solved. And yet –
''What if the child had been yours? What would you have done?'' he asked, curious.
''The child is not mine. No need to worry about it,'' Richard replied causally, unconcernedly – carelessly.
How could someone dismiss a child?
How could a father – a mother – dismiss their own child?
''She still could go to the press.''
''And it is your job to make sure that she doesn't. I don't want to lose my wife, and I certainly don't want to lose the Senate race.''
''You should have thought about this before you slept with a child,'' he replied.
She was a child.
''Don't test my patience, son,'' Richard smiled coldly.
''And don't test mine,'' he warned in return.
He had believed in Richard.
Once.
Richard's smile grew bigger. ''I wish my son were more like you. Now, let's not get worked up over such silly things. Hayley was an irresponsible mistake, something that I deeply regret. It's time to move on.''
He had admired Richard. Thought of him as the father he wished he had. The father he had once. Only to realize that Richard Lockwood was no husband, and certainly no father. And as time went by, his disillusionment grew.
Richard's indiscretions with the teenage girl had been the proverbial nail in the coffin.
''Tonight is my son's birthday and we will officially announce his engagement to his highschool sweetheart. I expect to see you tonight.'' And, without saying another word, he left. Just like he had come.
Uninterested and uncaring.
Just like his father.
A man he did not know.
A man who did not want to know his son.
~o~
She passed her hands over her blue dress, unconsciously. She felt nervous, and she did not know why. She did not particularly care whether Carol was happy or not. Although she could say that the party was a success.
It was perfect. Of course, it was perfect.
Hello! She was Caroline Forbes! And she did not do anything if not thoroughly. She was –
''Caroline.''
She turned around and came face to face with Matt Donovan.
''Matt.'' Of course, he would be here; Tyler was his best friend – although she never quite understood why – and Vicki was his sister. They were his only family.
She had thought he would be her family one day. Although she could say now that she had only been deluding herself.
She still did on so many things.
Hey!
He smiled his boyish smile and engulfed her in his arms. ''I'm sorry,'' he told her when he released her.
''I know. Me too.''
They never stood a chance as a couple but she was sure of something.
In spite of everything, Matt Donovan was her friend.
~o~
He arrived fashionably late, already bored, and looked at the people around him, all reunited to celebrate the life of Tyler Lockwood – the prodigal son.
What a farce.
He made his way to the buffet, hoping he would find something that could make the whole thing bearable.
But he doubted he would find anything.
He did not need something. He needed someone.
He surveyed the swarm of people, drinking a flûte of champagne, looking for Caroline. He knew she was there; she had planned the whole event after all.
But he only saw faceless people. Irrelevant.
And then, he spotted her. Chatting with Matt, and his blood ran cold. He watched as she smiled at him, laughed with him, and he felt burning anger.
He should have known. He should have known that she would go back to him.
He was a fool for ever believing that she could return his feelings. For ever telling her what he felt, how he felt.
Feelings.
He hated them. He hated that he loved her. Wished that he did not love her. Wished that he did not feel.
Why do we feel?
He turned to leave and stopped when he heard his name. ''Nik,'' she said again. He watched as she made her way toward him, light in a throng of black, voiceless entities.
''You came,'' she said with a delighted smile. She looked happy to see him and it alleviated some of the anger he felt.
Breathtaking beauty.
Every time he looked at her, she took – stole – his breath away. His sweet, beautiful Caroline.
She carried rays of light – sunshine – in her hair. Blue skies, and fire, in her eyes.
She was celestial.
And he was stranded on the ground.
Each time he looked at her, she seemed a little bit more out of reach. Unattainable.
Each time he looked at her, it was a little bit more painful.
And yet, he could not tear his eyes away from her.
The lines and curves of her body made his mouth dry. A longing to touch her took hold of him but he clung to his anger and remained silent.
''Are you enjoying the party?'' she asked him, and she gripped his arm before he could even utter a word. ''Come with me. I want to show you something.''
''I see that Matt is here. You must be happy to see him,'' he said as they made their way through the crowd. She must have heard the resentment in his voice because she looked at him questioningly.
''His sister is dating Tyler. And Matt is my friend.''
''Your friend?'' he repeated.
Her friend. They had shared so much – still did, probably. And he hated it.
He did not want her to be Matt's friend. He did not want her to be Matt's anything. He wanted her all for himself. He was selfish like that.
She was his. His Caroline. How could she be anything else?
''Yes, my friend. Why?'' she asked.
''No reason. You two seemed awfully cozy. I thought that maybe you were getting back together,'' he said, pursing his lips. He tried to make it sound as if he did not care.
As if it did not matter to him.
''Of course not,'' she said immediately. ''I'm not in love with Matt,'' she added, and her cheeks colored a little.
He looked at her again, on his arm, blushing and flustered. And just like that, his bad mood evaporated.
''What do you want to show me?'' he asked her, and she smiled. A true beautiful smile.
''You'll see,'' she said secretively.
They left the ballroom and walked through a long corridor. Finally, they arrived in front of a small window.
''Look,'' she said. ''Do you see it?'' she asked. It was hard to see anything with the light reflecting on the window pane. Still, he looked carefully.
The window overlooked a private park. He recognized it. They had played there as children.
Had met there, he remembered fondly.
Not his proudest moment he had to say. But the best.
''It's still there,'' he said.
The little swing.
And he turned to look at her, smiling. ''For what it's worth, I'm sorry,'' he told her, and she snorted.
They stood like that, smiling – never taking their eyes from each other.
''I miss you, Nik,'' she said, quite suddenly.
He was at a loss for words. What could he even say? That he missed her too? How do you say to the woman you love that you miss her even more when you are with her?
So he did not say anything. He had said too much already.
''Nik, please say something.'' She had this look, both pleading and evasive. And it made him mad, because she was asking the very same thing that she could not, or would not, give him.
She needed him but did not want him. Or she wanted him just enough, but never enough, so that he was stuck in this tormenting place where he could only have her from afar. Which meant not having her at all.
She took his face in her hands and he could not take it anymore. Glances, smiles, gentle touches that left him raw. Endless torture.
He had to break free from her wounding touch, put some distance. He took her by the wrists, and gently but coldly pushed her away. A frown settled on her face and she looked at a loss for a second. However, she approached him again, ever so slowly, not at all deterred by his response. ''Nik,'' she said soothingly. She tried again to touch him but he shook her hand off. He hated when she looked at him like this. As if he were a temperamental child. The glare he sent her way made her stop in her tracks.
''What do you want me to say, Caroline?'' he asked her, in a clipped voice, and she visibly flinched. He was trying to contain his anger because, as much as he needed an outlet, he did not want to say something that would hurt her. ''What do you want from me?'' he went on. ''What, Caroline?'' But she said nothing and it frustrated him to the point that, when he asked her one last time, he was practically screaming, and she had to take a step back.
''You know what? Forget it. I can't talk to you when you're like this,'' she said, turning away from him.
''Don't turn your back on me, Caroline,'' he warned. But she continued to walk away from him, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she took angry steps. Had he been in a better mood, he would have laughed. But he was not and it only fueled his anger. ''That's it, run away,'' he called after her. ''That's all you do.'' She stopped and turned round. ''How dare you,'' she all but screamed. ''How dare you, when you're the one who hides like a little boy,'' she said, her cheeks getting rosier from the sudden rush of blood.
He felt himself shaking at her words. How dare she be mad at him when all he had ever done was for her! It had been all for her!
''That's rich, coming from you, Caroline.''
''What does that mean?'' she asked, arms crossed against her chest, chin raised defiantly. He looked at her hard and took a step toward her. She did not move, only glared at him.
''You wanted it – you wanted me –, as much as I wanted you, and let me tell you, Caroline, you were glorious in my arms. So eager. So responsive.'' He said the last words in a whisper almost. Even now, as they fought, he wanted her. She flushed even more and she closed her eyes.
''Stop.''
''Why? I'm only saying the truth.'' When he took a step toward her, she did not move. He cradled her right cheek in his hand and she let him. ''I'm not the one who's hiding,'' he whispered against her lips. ''I'm not the one who pretends that nothing has happened,'' he said, before he captured her lips.
She was too stunned to respond at first, and he cursed himself for kissing her, for putting himself up for rejection again.
And then – and then –, she kissed him back. Sweet and passionate and hungry, all at once. His hand left her cheek and he took her by the hips to bring her closer to him. She was always too far away from him, and he could never get enough of her.
He was delighted when she linked her hands behind his neck and returned his kisses with added fervor. She was humming against him.
She was always so responsive in his arms.
He teared his mouth from hers. ''And I'm not the one who pretends that I don't love –''
''Stop, Nik,'' she asked timidly, pressing her forehead against his. ''Stop.''
He released her regretfully, more frustrated than before. If it were possible.
''Then stop playing this game,'' he said.
She stared at him wide-eyed, and took a step back. ''So, you think it's all a game to me? You think that I'm playing with you?'' she asked softly, looking torn.
''You tell me, Caroline,'' he answered, looking at her intently. ''What am supposed to think when you kiss me, when you tell me you want me, ask me to make love to you, and then ask me to forget all about it? Tell me, Caroline. What am I supposed to think?''
''That I –''
He stopped her. ''That you're what?'' he asked impatiently. ''What, Caroline?''
She was killing him.
''That I am scared!'' He frowned, not sure he understood what she meant.
''What are you so afraid of?'' he asked her, gently this time.
''You!'' she practically screamed. ''I'm afraid of you,'' she repeated more quietly. ''Because one day – one day – you'll realize that I'm just Caroline, and it won't be enough for you,'' she finished, looking embarrassed.
Ashamed.
He shook his head at her admission.
This was nonsense.
Complete nonsense.
She was perfectly imperfect. Gloriously perfect in all her imperfection.
Genuine.
Beautiful.
How could she doubt her worth? How could she doubt his feelings for her?
How could she doubt him?
''You're all I have. I don't want to lose you, don't you understand that?'' she added, almost angrily.
And something light in his heart fluttered.
Hope.
He shook his head again and smiled.
''You won't lose me.'' How could she? When all he breathed was her? When all he wanted – all he needed – was her. ''Let me show you,'' he asked her, reaching for her hand.
Please, Caroline.
~o~
She looked at his outstretched hand, and then at his face. Hopeful. Her heart was telling her – imploring her – to take his hand. To let him love her.
Like she loved him. Because she did love him. So much. Like she never had before. And it was perhaps the thing that worked the most against him.
Because she had come to learn to never trust her heart.
And because he had the power to break her beyond repair.
The terror swallowed her whole, and her heart broke because she already knew the answer.
''I can't.''
He dropped his hand. And she saw something beautiful disappear from his face.
''I can't continue like this, Caroline,'' he sighed. ''I just can't.'' He looked defeated and tired.
''I know.'' She was going to lose him anyway. ''I know,'' she repeated painfully, her eyes brimming with tears.
I know.
''I think we need some time – to figure things out,'' he said thickly, looking at something past her – looking at anything but her. ''I'll go to Stefan's –''
''No, I'll go,'' she said hurriedly.
It would not be fair for him to leave their house – his house really – when it was because of her that they were in this impasse.
''I'll go,'' she said again. ''I'll stay with Bonnie.'' He only nodded. Did not say anything.
What was there to say anyway? There was nothing left to say.
Nothing.
Except maybe I love you.
Three simple words that she had said so many times, to so many different people, on so many different occasions.
And here she was, unable to deliver them to the man she loved. The man who probably needed to hear them the most.
Three simple words left unsaid.
A sea of silence.
No – an ocean.
And she was drowning in it.
I love you.
Such simple words.
And yet, the hardest, for a scared, tender heart.
I love you.
I love you.