Here we are ! Chapter 8, oh my God. In a little over a month, I have gotten so much love from you guys, I can't believe it. Thank you so freaking much.

Spork Guest, I love you. Don't you ever change.

Goldenhummingbird, you gave me the biggest smile ever as I read you reading me !

Tippy093 & SweetyK, thank you for following this story since the beginning.

All of you are seriously amazing.

And, as a thank you, this chapter will be loooong (longer than usual anyway) AND we are gaining a little perspective as we will be seeing things from Klaus' POV :)) Hopefully, this will give you some reasons to like him again and some reasons to root for him !

Sorry that I took a little longer than usual to deliver a new chapter.

I hope you enjoy the read and don't forget to tell me what you think :)

This office was big. Too big for only one person, at any rate. The desk alone was massive, but the room also contained a couch, chairs, a bookshelf that took an entire pan of wall, and a table, big enough for four. Niklaus felt dizzy. That certainly was a step up from his own office, back in London. He wondered what his mother would say when she discovered where his father had put him. He also wondered why she volunteered to come home and pushed him to take her place. He didn't remember her saying one bad thing about New-York, or spending time away from her awful husband. He sighed. It wouldn't do to think about that on his first day as the managing partner of Mikaelson&Mikaelson alongside his mama's boy of an elder brother Finn – who, surprisingly, did not follow Esther -. Nor would it help to think of how jet-lagged he was, considering he had only arrived on U.S. land yesterday evening. He hadn't been able to sleep, despite his body's apparent fatigue, his brain was restless. He had tossed and turned all night, thinking about how grateful he was to be out of the mess he had gotten himself in, only if temporarily. Thank God he had been able to convince Camille – sweet, gentle Camille who smelled like rain and vanilla – that getting married in the spring would be better than to rush the organization of her perfect day just to marry at the end of the summer. Maybe next year, he'd be ready. Maybe next year, he'd discover her in a white gown, so in love and so beautiful that it'd change everything. Lord knows how Klaus wanted that. Because then maybe, he wouldn't feel like such a horrible person.

He was a coward, pure and simple, a man unable to look at the girl who loved him and tell her the ugly truth. I am only marrying you because my father ordered me to. I don't love you, yet. He wanted to, he really did. He adored little Camille, who had been his playmate as a child and with whom he could have the best conversations, but he just wasn't in love with her. And yet, every time that he took his courage and decided to tell her, she looked at him with her big eyes as if he were the sun, and he'd lose all his nerve. The ugly truth was that he didn't want her to be unhappy now, even if it meant that she would be unhappy later, when they had a few kids and that Klaus was slowly turning into his father. The thought made him shudder, but he knew he couldn't help it : it was in his genes, it was what made him him. Even if he didn't like it, Klaus was very much his Father's son. Much more so than any of his brothers. But Klaus really did care for Camille. He wanted nothing more than to see her happy. And since she didn't seem to care about their shortcomings – i.e, their lack of charisma, sexual relationship or that Klaus just didn't try to connect with her on an emotional level –, he figured that she was fine with all of it. She cuddled with him when they sat next to each other – which wasn't often -, fell asleep next to him, made him breakfast in the morning, closed her eyes when he kissed her on the forehead before going to work, and looked, throughout all of it, blissfully happy. And he loved seeing her like this, even though a small part of him whispered whenever he wanted to listen that she would be happier still, is she could be with someone who loved her like she loved him.

He shook his head, trying to get back to the here and now. He had to get through today, and then through tomorrow. Given time, he hoped to figure it all out. He sat on his mother's chair, breathing in and out as deeply as he could, feeling utterly uncomfortable. He supposed that that what Esther had wanted. Make him feel as awful as possible, lonely and bored, to have him come back home, tail between his legs. That would be his punishment for telling her truth of how he felt towards Camille.

"You're not Esther."

The sharp accusation surprised him, and he looked up to see whose silvery voice it was. He froze when he identified the owner, a tall, blond girl with a tacky orange t-shirt. He gulped, trying not to stare, but she had made it incredibly difficult. Lust punched him in the stomach, rendering him speechless, and he knew that he had to know her. In every sense of the word. To know who she was. Legs, legs, legs. She was all legs. Or maybe it was just her tight skirt, designed to make him believe she was a giant – he wondered how she was able to breathe – or maybe the shoes. He couldn't tell, and he really didn't care. But he could tell he had been gaping at her, since, when he finally remembered to stand and shake her hand, he recognized disdain and anger in her deep blue eyes Damn. He could already tell that he would never be indifferent to her, and that she could shake him at his core. Shake his all life. "That's an acute observation." He decided to be a sport, to let her vent, be herself. He smiled – he couldn't help it – more and more as the girl in front of him, one Caroline Forbes, kept delivering sassy comment after sassy comment. He loved, instantly, the fight that he saw in her, the pride, the self-esteem. He couldn't relate to it – he was much more of a do-as-you're-told kind of guy – but he found it beautiful.

None of those prepared him from what he felt as they shook hands, though. He gasped before he realized what he was doing, and a shock wave took over his entire upper body. He shivered, and was relieved to see her take back her hand from his. God knows he wouldn't have been able to. He had, of course, been physically attracted to other women before, of course he had. But never like this. Never at this potency. Never had a woman been able to take his breath away with only her words and her looks. And it was – exhilarating. So refreshing. He watched as she launched herself in a rant, unable to look away from her, unable to control this warm feeling of happiness creeping up from his stomach to the tip of his fingers.

All these happy feelings, however, were short lived. They both got surprised by the amount and intensity of their work – it was her first day, too – and they had no other chance to interact all day. Only when she came up to say good night was he able to look up and take a breath. He felt more tired than he could have ever thought he could be, and yet he still had a few things to take care of before he could think of going back to that cold, anonymous hotel room. He hadn't had the courage to sleep in his mother's condo, to look upon her new and improved life here in the States. He'd much rather sleep in nobody's sheets, act like he saw nothing than to witness first hand the disintegration of his family. A mother working in the States, following her only daughter who had wanted a shot at a 'normal' life, and followed by her eldest son, who had, until then, been the shining star in Mikael's own firm in London, a father disappointed in his middle child, finding him severally lacking in all departments and who turn to his youngest son for hope, but, unfortunately for him, said son preferred spending money on beautiful women rather than earning it, and spent his time in exotic, tropical countries, away from London's grim weather. Only Elijah, son number two, held his own, but even he wanted to do nothing with his father unless he had too. Hence the lovely atmosphere that filled all of their family gatherings where no one listened, but everyone talked. It didn't really make for an uplifting childhood, but Klaus couldn't complain. He had had money, he had had opportunity and education. He had never been alone, that is, until he surrounded himself with Camille's love.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and went back to work. He tried to, at least, but he kept seeing a certain blond before his eyes. She had made a great impression on him, and he knew he had to be careful, or else she would have him on his knees.

He tried his footing, that week, tried to find his own pace, figure out what kind of boss he wanted to be. Unfortunately for him, and for Caroline – who seemed to stick with him through all of it anyway – he had to put those ideas aside when a sea of clients, deadlines, associates, junior and senior partners crushed him against his chair. He was assailed with never ending reunions and meeting where everyone had something to say but didn't seem to want to listen. His temper was too short to bear it all gracefully, and he found himself taking it out on Caroline more than once. He admonished himself for it as soon as he'd get to his office, but a new problem rose every time that he had tried to apologize. She was gifted, and hard working and passionate, and all of these things got to him ad connected them together. He recognized and respected her for it, and tried to give her as much responsibility as he could. He knew she wouldn't thank him for it, but she would get valuable lessons out of all of it. And he thought that she could just be it, an esteemed colleague with whom he loved to work, but it turned out that he had been wrong about that. The thought of her followed him everywhere, and filled him with a serenity that he felt hard to describe. Like he had found what he had been missing. He didn't like it, he certainly didn't welcome it, but he couldn't ignore it. Whenever he would close his eyes, she would be there with him. When he talked to Camille, it was Caroline he saw. She was there, all smiles and sass and legs, and she wrapped him around her finger with her natural ease, her brutal honesty, her can-do attitude. She was fierce, and proud, and she knew what she was worth. And when she put up with his constant mood swings, she sometimes seemed to enjoy it.

He couldn't help it, he was staring at her. He found himself staring at her more often than was good for both of them, but he liked looking at her when she thought no one would. When she chewed her pens and licked her lips, when she frowned as she read an incredibly boring document, and the little cry of victory she had when she finished it. But tonight's reaction to her phone made him grimace. She smiled a big, foolish grin he had never seen her with as she looked at her phone. He frowned, and was up on his feet and walking to her before he understood what he was doing. She almost bumped into him, but he stabilized her by putting his hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay ?" Touching her was magical, and he couldn't snap out of it. It was as if he was in some sort of trance, being able to only see her. The whole conversation, if he was honest, he couldn't recall, blinded as he was by a jealousy he couldn't recognize. But he remembered the piercing pain he felt when she mentioned his name : Stefan.

He watched her leave for the week-end, but stayed glued to where he was standing. He didn't know what he had been expecting, really, a girl like that, smart, funny, and so, so strong – how could she not have anyone to go home to ? But this hurt didn't go away, even after a few drinks back at home – he had found, luckily, a duplex in Manhattan that he loved - and even after he had a heated argument with himself saying it was much better this way. And then, he realized that he was talking to himself, and that scared him a little.

Camille had called him, that night, and his mother, too. Both begged him to come home, but for very different reasons. Esther's patience with his father was already starting to get very thin, and she knew he was a genius at negotiations – yes, that was exactly what was asked of him in that situation – and that he would be able to calm them down. Camille, on the other hand, just missed him and wanted to see him. He rejected the idea at first, very unhappy at the prospect of having to leave New-York for London, a city he adored, but filled only with people he despised. And then it clicked. If he was feeling so horrible at the idea of going home, then there was a serious problem with his life, and with his choices. It meant he had to make a change, or else he would be feeling this exact way for the rest of his life. He realized that he hadn't smiled, really smiled, in a long, long time. And that it wasn't fair to impose this on the sweetest girl he had ever known. He was going to go home to London, and he was going to make a change.

Now, of course, leaving the country, even for a few days, meant that he would have to leave Finn in charge. He hated that idea as much as his brother hated the fact that they had to be partners and share their mother's attention, but he didn't have much of a choice. He would leave a few things for Caroline to do, too, of course : she needed her chance to shine as well. So, in the early Sunday morning, Klaus took all he needed for his journey, closed his door behind him, and walked – the streets were empty but the sun already up – to the office. He didn't expect to find anyone there, and was dumbfounded when he met Finn, who intended on ignoring him as much as he could. Klaus didn't mind it, preferring to work in total silence. Plus, he had so many things to do before catching his flight this evening that he didn't have time to worry about Finn. He did, however, have time to see Caroline. Or, rather, he didn't. But he made some anyway.

He met her at a charming little café in Little Italy, where she was lounging under this fine late May sun. She looked absolutely glowing in the sunlight, and Klaus' heart stopped dead in its tracks. He had to take a second before he could breathe normally again and sit at her table. She was hungover, she said, but she was pleasant and funny. Conversation – and flirting, Klaus soon found – came easily to them, and not an awkward moment passed between them. Klaus forgot about everything else but Caroline, that afternoon. And when she laughed in his face that she was not actually dating Stefan, he felt so light he could float away. She didn't fight his decision to leave her in charge – well, almost in charge – and, even if she hid it under fear and humility, he could tell she had been dying for an opportunity like this since she had decided to become a lawyer, probably even before then. And trouble only found them at the end of the day, when he walked by her side before leaving for the airport. She had asked him about London, which had made him shut up completely. He didn't want Caroline to know about his worst self, and all of the things that came with it. He only wanted her to see the man he was when he was in New-York, when he was next to her. He couldn't handle this wonderful person knowing all the wrong choices he had made, all the wrong things he had done. Maybe, one day, but not yet. He wasn't ready.

She had been wounded by his reaction, and instead of sulking in her corner, she had had the guts to ask him what was wrong. Klaus, who had been raised in a family where everyone was okay and nobody was ever honest, was shocked beyond words. It was at this moment, her face resting between his fingers, her face only inches away from his, that he realized that he wanted to be with her. That she would make him a better person. That she would balance him out. That she might be the person he desperately needed to be set right. This realization took his breath away, and he almost gasped.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Caroline."

These words came out of him easily, but the rest stayed lodged in his throat. He stared at her, taking in her beauty, her strength, looking at the colors dancing in her eyes. He watched, mesmerized, as he felt her take a step towards him, and as he tilted her face up so that he could – finally – kiss her. He wanted to, but he didn't deserve it, and that was the only thing that kept him from sweeping her off her feet. He needed to think about Camille at a time when he could only think about Caroline, about how her lips would feel against his, about her soft, peach skin that beckoned for his touch, of her long, blond curls he wanted to run his fingers through. But he quietly thanked God for the car that separated them.

On the plane to London, Klaus had nothing but time on his hands. He tried to work, but nothing he read stuck up. He tried to sleep, but the feel of Caroline's face under his fingertips burned him. And when he tried thinking of home, only she appeared to him. In the end, he rubbed his nose with two fingers, listening to whatever boring movie they showed during the flight, and forced himself not to think about anything. No one was waiting for him at the airport, but it didn't bother him : he'd at least have a few more minutes to think about what he wanted to say to Camille. He was sure he'd find her at Mikaelson House – yes, seriously – and so asked the driver to take him there first. He didn't look forward to seeing it again, nor did he look forward to seeing his parents. He wondered whether Elijah was home, if Esther had also called Finn and Kol home. Or even Rebekah. It was strange to be into familiar territory and yet know nothing of what would await him on the other side of the doors. He took a deep breath, tried to concentrate on anything else beside Caroline's face between his hands, and opened the doors to his past.

He immediately heard Kol's laughter echoing a girl's whimper, and Elijah reprimanding him. He was home. He followed the sound, feeling a familiar anger starting to warm his stomach, and leaned on the wall at the entrance of the living room, unwilling to take a step further.

"Nik !"

The ringing, plummy voice – Camille's – attacked him and she threw herself at him. He hugged her back, kissing the top of her head. "Hi.", he said, "Is my brother annoying you ?" Kol laughed, and even Klaus smiled in Camille's hair. She was like a damsel who was constantly in distress, and he her white knight who was bored of rescuing her, but yet did it every time.

"It's nice to see you, big brother." Kol playfully hit his arm, and Klaus gave him a fake glare.

"Niklaus, welcome back."

Behind them, Esther greeted her son with warmth, but didn't try to take him in his arm. She simply extended her hand towards her study, and invited him to follow her. After one more kiss to Camille's head, Klaus detached himself from her and walked behind his mother, her heels clacking against the marble floors, body completely rigid from head to toe. His mother was a noble woman, and it carried in everything she did, the way she spoke, how she held her head. He had witnessed Camille – who was the youngest daughter of an earl – trying to imitate her, and found it adorable. He, himself, could not see the appeal; he much preferred the easy, unaffected manners of a miss Caroline Forbes. He shook his head and closed the door behind him. His mother sat by the fire, handing him a glass of brandy.

"We did not know if you were coming. Poor Camille was in such a state."

Klaus stayed quiet, drinking his brandy down in one gulp. He would need some courage for that conversation. He waited for his mother to frown and reproach him something, but she only looked up at him with soft eyes. "How is New-York ?"

"Do you miss it ?" He finally asked, after letting silence settle in between them.

"I do, yes. But I am more than grateful to be home to my sons."

"Is Kol living here again ?"

"Yes, he is. Your father was very adamant about him going to Oxford."

Klaus snickered in his drink. "A 'come home or you're cut off' deal, I imagine. Kol must have loved it."

"Niklaus,you are hiding something from me." Esther faced him, stared in his eyes, and Klaus had to fight not to lower his gaze. "Mother, I -"

"Why do you believe I sent you to New-York, Niklaus ?"

"To set me straight."

"Yes, and no. I wanted you to take your time, away from here, from your father's control, and think about what you wanted to do with the rest of your life." His mother rose in front of the incredulous look he gave her. He was so sure she had wanted to punish him. "You are still very young, my son," she continued, "even if you do not believe it so. You have a long road ahead of you. If you wish to take that journey, content of being your father's playtoy, then I shall say nothing more on the matter."

"I cannot believe it, Mother. Are you actually trying to separate us from our father ? Only two years ago did you implore with him that I marry Camille and work for him, under his supervision. You spent my entire life trying to con us to do whatever he wanted."

"I realize that, Niklaus. And I deeply regret it. But now, it is time for all of us to make a choice. Continue on under his tyranny, or free ourselves and end up with nothing but what we have in our pockets."

"Are you all right, Mother ?"

"I am. But my stay in New-York has made me very aware that none of us are happy, except maybe your sister. She has made that choice a long time ago, and she is successful, and strong. My children should all have that." She had looked at the fire burning in her fireplace, the dancing flames reflecting in her eyes, but she now looked at him, maintaining eye contact. "Tell me, my son. Do you wish to marry Camille, and try to make her happy every day for the rest of her life ?"

Klaus thought that saying it out loud would never be easy, that the words would be stuck in his throat. Instead, the answer was said before his mother finished her sentence. "I don't, Mother. I really don't."

He saw her breathe in and out deeply, closing her eyes. She whispered in the oppressive silence. "I do not believe you should, either. She is not the woman for you." Klaus gasped, gaping at his mother. Never in a million years would he have believed she could utter such a thing. And yet, here they were, the two of them standing in her study, with only the crackling of the fire to defuse the heavy atmosphere. He couldn't believe it. It changed nothing, in the end, but it was nice to have her on his side.

"Thank you.", he finally uttered, putting down his glass. "But I do have one more request."

"Tell me.", Esther stated monotonously. He could tell that she was dreading what would come next, what would happen once Klaus told his father of his plans.

"I want to go back to New-York. I want to still work there."

"I do believe that you should. I will come back eventually, but until then, I am happy to know my firm in his your and your brother's capable hands."

He nodded, and walked back out of her office. He knew he was letting her with plenty of things to worry about, but she believed he could make it work on his own. That was more than enough for him.

His conversation with Camille, however, did not go so well.

When, after dinner that night and after they had retired to Camille's room – their room, she assured him more than once -, Klaus sat her down to talk, her behavior changed entirely. He hadn't even started talking, but she latched onto his shirt and started weeping softly. "Something's wrong", she told him, "I can tell."

"Camille, I'm sorry."

"Don't say it. Please, Nik, don't."

"I don't think we should get married."

She gasped softly and closed her eyes. Tears sprang free and rolled down her cheeks, and he felt powerless and shameful to cause her so much pain. "We tried," he continued, "but-"

"No, Nik. I tried. You just stood there waiting for the messiah."

She didn't sound angry or even hurt, but kept this monotonous voice that irritated him to no end. He stood up, forcing her to let go of him. "So you see, I'm not the man for you, Camille."

"But you are ! I know it. We belong together."

He shook his head, laughing sadly. "No, we don't."

"Don't do this to me, Nik. I am no one without you."

"And don't you see how wrong this is ? You are a person. You should be someone on your own. You can't live through me. And God knows I can't live through you." He came back to the couch, took her hands in his own. "Camille, I adore you. But I've made up my mind : I really cannot marry you and be at peace with myself. You'd grow to resent me for it, too."

"I would never-"

"Yes, Camille. You would." He kissed her forehead. "I'm so, so sorry."

Monday and Tuesday, he spent avoiding Camille and his father as much as he could. He went back to his flat in Central London to start packing everything he would need for a long term stay in New-York, ran for miles around Hyde Park and Queens Park, met his little brother for drinks down at the local pub, purposefully not staring at his phone, wishing a certain American to call him. He dialed her number once or twice, but stopped himself before actually calling her. What would he say ? Hey, London is shit without you, I wish you were here. Hey, I wish I was in New-York right now so that we could see each other. Hey, I miss you. Hey, girl I've met only a week ago, I think I'm falling in love with you. He typed all of these on his phone, but never mastered the courage to sent them, probably because they seemed utterly ridiculous, maybe because she'd be certain to file a complaint for sexual harassment. After she cracked his nuts with her fingers, that is. But they still sat there, on his phone, like little reminders of how she changed his life. So, when Wednesday rolled around, he took his return ticket, kissed his mother's cheek, and left his hometown without regrets, without looking back.

New-York City. He had only been gone since Sunday, but he had missed it. The smell, the noise, the people, the atmosphere. The girl. He smiled to himself as he got into a cab. He couldn't wait to go back to the office, but first, he had to put down his things, change, and find himself an excuse for being back this early. She would probably believe it's because he doesn't trust her, and he really couldn't tell her that he had been back from breaking up with a woman he didn't really care for because he couldn't get her out of his head.

He found her – his heart skipped a beat – on her desk, eyes closed, muttering to herself. She looked incredibly beautiful and incredibly pissed at something. He tried a soft approach to try and not get bitten, even though he might not actually mind if she did.

"I have food."

She looked up and appeared to melt on the desktop. "Oh, thank God."

He had gotten her something warm to eat, firstly because he had felt idiotic when he thought that he came back empty-handed, and secondly because she probably had forgotten to eat anything while he was away – she did it often, even when he reminded her, which was pretty much every day – and he didn't want to see her sick. She beamed up at him, and Klaus felt something that he hadn't felt since Sunday afternoon when he left her : alive. Their friendly banter and not so friendly flirting really helped, either. He went back to work serene and happy. Unfortunately for him, that feeling soon past when he saw the amount of work he had to do before things would go back to normal. Even if he was lucky, he would be here until very late that evening. Caroline left around seven, but not before she informed him that she had had a date. Well, not before he heard that she had had a date.

There he was, breaking up with Camille because he couldn't think of anyone but her – yes, okay, she was only part of the equation, but still – and she was going out with a certain Tyler. He felt his stomach turn, and his blood boiled in his veins. He had spent the afternoon picturing all the different ways he wanted to kill whoever had touched his Caroline – yes, his; he was irrational and he knew it -, trying not to let it show, even if he had almost shouted at Caroline. But he had too many things to do to waste time making plans to kill some guy, and he soon dove back into work.

When Caroline came to him before she left, he was over it. Somewhat. He was still pissed, but not at her. At himself. He had no right to expect anything from her but good work. And she did deliver, in that department. He couldn't help but feel jealous that someone else might be making her feel all the things he was feeling for her. He wanted Caroline to be his. He wanted her to see him. But he let her go, tried to stay cool, tried, very hard, to get things back to the way they were before he left.

She wouldn't let him, apparently. It was late, and he was still at work when she came back to the office, sporting the biggest grin he had ever seen on her face. He himself was so happy he could have just melted, right there and then. She had brought him pizza and a 'make your own bed out of a couch' kit that had him smiling like and idiot. He could have kissed her a hundred times over, but what pushed him over the edge was when she told him that the bartender was actually not her boyfriend. Klaus wondered whether the guy was blind to everything that was good for him, or if he just didn't care. In any case, Caroline was single. And she came back. That was enough for him.

He must have pushed her too hard, though, because she changed the topic to work as soon as she got the chance. It is wasn't for her blushing and the little looks she shot him when he looked elsewhere, Klaus would have thought that that was actually the only reason she came back.

That night, she left in a hurry, holding back tears, and left Klaus puzzled and uncomfortable. He spent the whole night tossing and turning in his bed, wondering what he had done wrong, hoping that they could talk in the morning. Unfortunately for him, she had other plans. She made a big display in gushing over her boyfriend – was he ? Was he not ? Klaus was too confused to understand what was going on with her – and then left without saying a word.

Confusion led to anger, and Klaus barely opened his mouth all day. He couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to think that Caroline might want him back, and now she wanted to make it clear that she wasn't attracted to him. Which made it difficult to understand for his brain why he kissed her, that night. She had pushed and pushed, and he snapped.

But he wanted her to see. He wanted her to understand how much he had wanted her since the beginning. His heart was all over the place, beating so hard it could have been mistaken for a drum, but died instantly when Caroline kissed him back. It was as if all his senses had come alive under her touch, and he had to have her if he wanted to keep breathing. Her skin, her touch, the feel of her against him, everything was incredible, and he couldn't stop. He lifted her on the table, and she killed him when she pulled him between her legs. All his body seemed uncontrollably attracted to hers, like magnets, like fate.

Desire had always made him shut down, thinking of nothing but the woman in his arms. But this was so much different. His desire for Caroline felt right, like spring after a long winter, and she was water for his parched soul.

It was heaven, pure, magical heaven. And he'd have done anything to keep her here forever.