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-Cheers

The taxi ride is the hardest part. Driving through the streets of the unfamiliar city, the minutes tick away on the dash board of the old vehicle. The man driving, going on and on in a southern drawl, all about the history and architecture. I nod along, hardly catching the words he's saying.

"Sorry," I interrupt him as he moves onto the subject of the oldest pubs in town, "But you wouldn't be able to track someone down for me would you?"

"Well young lady, New Orleans's a big place," he says doubtfully. "You got a name for me?"

I stare out the window as we turn onto a cobblestone street, the lights of the restaurants and shops line the dark road, making it sparkle welcomingly.

"Nicklaus Michaelson," I say, not taking my eyes from the streets as we zip past, catching the names of a few shops, lit up in fluorescents, most of them blurring past my unfocussed eyes without recollection.

There's a long beat of silence in the cab before the driver seems to fully process what I've just said.

"Now why would you be looking for him?" I can tell he's trying to keep his tone light, but is failing.

I think for a second about how much of the truth I need to tell, to get me where I want to go.

"An old friend," I murmur, keeping my eyes on the window, away from his curiosity.

He chuckles just once before it cuts off. Obviously catching the seriousness in my voice. That in fact this is not a practical joke.

"I'm sorry Miss," he clears his throat a little; "I just can't picture a sweet thing like you having anything to do with a man like that." He shakes his head a little.

"Do you know where he's staying?" I divert the attention back onto the task at hand.

With another moment of hesitation, he turns his customer voice back on, the one he uses for the tourists; like me. "Well I'd assume he'd be staying at the place he owns here," I look at him now, frowning a little, this is news.

"Do you know where that is?" my voice is higher than I want it to be. Nerves no doubt. I clench my shaking hands in my lap.

I stare at the plane ticket in my hand for the hundredth time. Re-reading the date of the flight.

9 AM tomorrow morning.

"You know you have to go." Elena's quiet voice startles me, and I look up from where I'm leaning against my kitchen counter.

Quickly pushing the ticket back into the envelope it came in, touching the writing on the front of it with my fingertip, before setting it on the counter beside me.

"Yeah?" I ask, sounding more defensive than I meant to.

"You need him," She steps forward, removing the ticket from its place by the stove, holding it out to me insistently. "And he needs you."

I stare at the paper in her hand for a few seconds.

"I'm scared," I finally breathe. Reaching up and rubbing my forehead the same way my mother does.

"I know," She nods, tenderness in her voice, but there's determination too. "But you know you'll regret it if you don't go."

There's total silence in the house.

"I know," I whisper, taking a deep breath, uncrossing my arms, and gingerly taking the ticket from her hand.

"Well of course I know where it is," the taxi driver cuts into my memory, dragging me back to the now. "But he won't be there now." He turns on his signal light making a risky left hand turn onto a busier street. "Been driving taxi's in this town for ten years, never once have I know Mr. Michealson to be a home body,"

Great.

"Naw, it's Friday night, he'll be at Willie's."

"Willie's?"

"Oldest pub in New Orleans, his old friend Marcel is the owner, as well as many other businesses in town. Quite the entrepreneur that Marcel, basically taken over the whole town—anyhow, Mr. Michealson is quite the regular, though most of the time their 'friendship' seems a tad on the cut-throat side if you ask me." We continues on as we turn onto what looks like Main Street.

"Here we are." He pulls to the curb next to a large wooden sign that reads: Willie's Pub and Grill. "He'll be in there for sure," He nods with certainty.

"Looks like I hailed the right cab." I say, giving him a polite smile, "Mr..."

"Henry," He nods.

"Caroline," I offer him my hand and he shakes it.

I reach for the handle, pushing the car door ajar and stepping out onto the damp streets.

As I walk around the front of the taxi, he cuts the engine and hastily gets out of the driver's side.

I pause, staring at Henry, and raise an eyebrow.

"Look Miss, I'm not sure what business you have with that man, but... I just want to leave you with a word of caution." He's talking earnestly, an edge of worry in his voice. "There's... More to him than meets the eye."

You're telling me.

I smile, "Thank you Henry. For all of your help," I say quietly, giving him another nod before I walk towards the building, pulling open the heavy wooden door.

Voices and cigarette smoke hits me first. A grand archway leading into a large room, around half the size of the Mystic Grill. Music is playing through speakers set up all around, a few intoxicated men and women sing along enthusiastically.

I skim the crowd, my eyes already searching. My ears tuning into the sounds around me.

A few men glance my way as I walk further into the bar. Some looking me up and down, possessively, my skin crawls a little with their intentions painted clearly in their hungry eyes.

"Your selfishness will be the death of you Klaus, I promise you," A deep male voice speaks from somewhere near the back of the room.

My eyes snap up, following the man's voice across the tables, until finally; after what has felt like years, my eyes find him.

And all of a sudden, I remember why I'm here.

"Well thank you Marcel, for that very thorough and detailed guilt trip, but you seem to be forgetting—" He leans forward a little, towards Marcel, adding a touch of melodrama, "Your manipulations may work on everyone else is this town, but I will not be placed under anyone's thumb."

Marcel looks deadly serious for a split second before he cracks a grin, and laughs too loudly. The others that surround them, listening to the tense conversation, silent from the sidelines; laugh along with him.

"Ahh Klaus, always so paranoid, even now," Marcel shakes his head and takes a drink from the glass in front of him.

Klaus smiles with him, though it's not a kind one. I now see what Henry meant by "cut throat friendship". They hardly seem to stand each other's presence.

Klaus lifts his own glass to his lips, tipping it back, emptying it easily.

"Another round?" A bartendress with an exceptionally low cut top and a sultry voice purrs at the group of them, seeming to especially favor Marcel and Klaus.

But Klaus has spotted me. His eyes like a statue's; piercing mine. My mind has not done justice to the blue of them. He doesn't even acknowledge the beautiful waitress or the others when they ask what's captured his attention.

Setting his glass down with an audible smack against the bar, he starts towards me, his eyes seeming to ignite as he nears me. A small smile plays with the corners of my mouth, my heart beats rapidly as we close the gap easily; meeting somewhere in the middle.

Without an instant of hesitation, his lips crash down on mine. All the tension built up from weeks apart; every nerve like a live wire. His lips easing mine open; breathing life back into each other.

I reach up, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding myself to him as his arms wind around my waist, holding me so tightly, I come a few inches off the floor.

It's me who finally has to break away for air. Our breath matching the same frantic pace, receiving a few low whistles from a couple of strangers nearby, but mostly the place has gone silent.

Setting my feet back on solid ground, his hands cup my neck as he looks down into my eyes; I almost laugh out loud at his astonishment as he stares at me, as if he's unsure I am in fact, here.

"You came," He states, bewilderment and joy dancing in his eyes.

"I came." I say, smiling up at him as we quote each other's lines the night he surprised me at prom.

He leans down again, kissing me deeply, his right hand sliding down my neck, over my shoulder and down my arm; interlacing his fingers with mine.

My blood is boiling, his touch sending waves of heat through me, the longer his hands are on me, the more I want more.

As if reading my mind; or perhaps his need was as intense as mine in that very moment, he pulls away, releasing every bit of me except for our hands, locked together at my side.

"Let's get out of here," His voice is raspy with breathlessness near my ear, the sound of it causing my stomach to clench with the familiar excited nervousness I feel whenever I'm with him. I can only nod in response.

Without another word, or glance back at the astounded occupants of Willie's Pub and Grill, he pulls me towards the exit, fervour playing with his eyes, I can't help but smile.

I shriek with surprise when we get to the door and his arm sweeps behind my knees, lifting me off the ground and into his arms in a fluent motion that leaves me breathless. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pushes through the door; privacy unable to come fast enough.