And so this series comes to an end. For now...

I may be persuaded to write a sort of epilogue piece later on down the track. But, as it stands now, I'm quite happy with the series as a whole and want to look at potentially starting something new.

I am seriously considering a continuation of Sweet Dreams now, so much so that I have already planned eighteen chapters of what I envision the story to be. Now I just have to find the time to write it.

I want to say a big thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing this series. It has truly been a pleasure.

I hope you enjoy this, the last chapter, of Heartlines.

Caroline fidgeted restlessly, her thumb methodically spinning the daylight ring on her forefinger in a continuous twirl. The plane ride had been fine, easy even; all she'd had to do was sit in her seat and flip through the in-flight magazine and pretend she gave a damn about the articles inside. She could bury her head in its pages and try to ignore Eva's blatant curiosity. The girl's stepfather obviously didn't give a damn as he'd all but grunted, crossed his arms and closed his eyes for the duration of the flight. The fact that he was a hybrid, the fact that Eva's blood had turned him into a hybrid was more than a little disconcerting. Klaus obviously hadn't used the ability to his advantage, which was strange in and of itself, because from what she could gather only Hayley and Jackson had ever been turned. Caroline wondered if maybe he really had changed.

"What is your favourite food?" Eva asked, her blue eyes moving off the road to stare curiously at Caroline's face.

Caroline sighed internally, smiling weakly at the blonde. Yes, it had been so much easier to ignore the girl's curiosity on the plane. In a car, not so much.

"Eyes on the road," Jackson grumbled from the back seat. She could see in the rear-view mirror the unease in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Eva waved his concern off. "Oh it's fine. I crashed like one time. I don't know what you're all so worried about, I'm practically indestructible," the carefree ease with which she spoke, the careless flourish of her hands made Caroline suddenly very uncomfortable. "So – favourite food?"

"Uh," she too shifted uncomfortably then, eyeing the road and then Eva's expectant face. Hoping that the blonde hybrid's attention would revert back to the stream of traffic on the road, Caroline tentatively offered her answer. "Italian?"

The woman smiled, eyes thankfully turning back to the road. "Wonderful. I'll get Uncle 'Lijah to order some for lunch when we arrive."

Caroline opened her mouth to protest, to say that the gesture really wasn't necessary, but the young woman's oblivious smile kept her quiet. She could see the soft excitement in the girl as she unknowingly bounced in the driver's seat the closer they got to the compound. It was sweet really to see how much her presence seemed to offer some sort of hopeful excitement to the girl. Eva genuinely cared about her father's happiness, Caroline could see that and it warmed her heart to know that he hadn't been alone all these years – not really; he'd had Eva in his corner the whole time.

Caroline watched the city as it passed by. It hadn't really changed at all. And, as her eyes landed on a familiar sign over a very familiar bar she felt her heart constrict painfully.

She was doing this. She was actually here in New Orleans.

Again.

Only this time she felt ready, more secure and less uncertain. Time had changed her, helped her to grow as a person and now, now she was finally ready. Caroline only hoped that he was too.

Enzo had given her a chance, as heartbreaking as it was, to finally do what she desired, to finally accept what she'd buried away so long ago. Caroline regretted nothing. She did not regret leaving or promising that she'd return. She would not apologise for seeing Stefan or dating Enzo for nearly a decade, for accepting his proposal and for nearly becoming his bride. She regretted nothing because, while she may have been afraid, everything she had done had led her here. Caroline had grown as a person and, while she may not have been perfect, she was who she needed to be in order to make this work.

No longer a naive nineteen year-old girl new to college and vampirism and life in general; now she was thirty-nine, a woman who'd loved, lived and travelled who now had, she hoped, enough experience to handle a relationship with a man who'd lived multiple lives, a man whose age was incomprehensible. He'd seen and done just about everything. And while his murderous tendencies were legendary, Caroline believed that she was now in a position to handle life by his side.

If Elena and Damon chose to hate her, then so be it. If Bonnie stopped her from seeing little Sheila, her goddaughter, then Caroline would be genuinely sad but not broken. If Matt disowned her as his friend, then maybe he wasn't a true friend to begin with. Tyler would react badly and so what, she hadn't seen her ex-love in nearly three years. Stefan would support her. Enzo supported her. That was all she needed.

As Eva pulled the car to a stop, Caroline swallowed uneasily.

Just because she was sure didn't mean that she wasn't nervous. She had not seen his face in over twenty years. What if he'd changed his mind? What if he didn't want her anymore?

Unconscious of her actions, Caroline nervously patted down her hair and straightened the line of her light blue blouse as she stepped out of the car. She chose to ignore Eva's wry smile, the slight curve of which reminded her so much of the man that had stolen her heart all those years ago.

This was it. She was here.

Caroline breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

She was calm. She was centred. She was ready.

A sudden voice startled her. "I was unaware we would be entertaining a guest this evening."

"Elijah," Caroline breathed out, unsteady and suddenly unsure.

She'd always been under the impression that the older original had never really cared for her or her presence in New Orleans. Perhaps it was because he had never really taken the time to get to know her, to get to know who she was as a person, her morals and beliefs of which she'd been told were so similar to his own. He'd always been standoffish or simply gone; always in the Bayou, which at the time had puzzled her but now made so much more sense.

A warm smile crossed his face as he tipped his head lightly, the gentlemanly gesture throwing her off guard. "It is a pleasure to see you again Miss Forbes. I trust my niece had a role in all this."

The teasing lilt in his voice and the coy look shared between Eva and her uncle was not lost on Caroline.

"As have you, it would seem."

Elijah laughed lightly, a charming smile on his lips. "I forget your powers of perception are without equal. Niklaus has always spoken so highly of you that I confess, I fear my behaviour to you the last time we met was quite reprehensible. I did not know the depth of my brother's affections and mistook love for obsession. My atonement, if you were, is long overdue. "

His confession rattled her. And yet, it was a comfort to know that he was sorry, that he hadn't simply disliked her. Elijah had underappreciated her importance to Klaus; he'd seen a distraction where there was none. She could forgive that.

"And this is, what, your idea of making amends?" she asked with a wry smile, her eyebrow arched as she gestured to herself and her bags. Jackson diligently and silently unloaded the luggage from the back of the car, purposefully ignoring Elijah's momentary stare.

"No," Eva interrupted. She leaned against the silver volvo with a self-satisfied smirk that was all Hayley. "It's a gift."

A gift?

Caroline frowned and opened her mouth to ask the obvious when she was interrupted by the sound of the car's boot slamming shut. Jackson's gruff voice sounded from behind her. "Come on kiddo. Help me move the bags inside."

Eva scowled at her step-father's command but obediently followed, swinging a rather heavy case over her shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sheet of paper. Caroline's frown deepened and as she went to move forward, to query the girl's comment, when Elijah's warm hand rested lightly on her shoulder and held her in place.

"My niece can be quite obstinate when she wants to be. If she has an idea in her head it is futile to even attempt to argue with her. A lesson we have all learned the hard way," Elijah's words puzzled her; they made little sense in context of the question she had asked earlier. As if sensing her confusion, the older original continued, looping his arm through hers. "Eva has wanted to meet you for a very long time, Miss Forbes."

"Caroline. Please."

Elijah smiled, guiding her toward the compound. "She has always been a sweet child. Temperamental, much like Niklaus, but sweet nonetheless. Her heart is large and generous, as is her love for her father and her want for his happiness."

"Convincing me to come back was –"

"A daughter's gift to her father."

Caroline tilted her head, eyes alight in comprehension. "And a brother's gift of atonement. You helped her find me."

The original nodded slightly, drawing her further into the old building's walls. It was as if time had stood still and everything remained unchanged, untouched within the Mikaelson family home. She felt anxious and excited, the warm bubble of anticipation in her abdomen simmering away.

He was nearby. She could feel it.

"Come. Let me take you to him."

Caroline smiled brightly.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies...

Klaus had never been one to favour the written word. He'd always been more of a dynamic soul whose interests lay in more lively pursuits. He was not his brother. Elijah had always been a man of words, a connoisseur of culture; indeed, it was with ones words, ones understanding of the artistry behind such rousing speeches, such tumultuous historical texts that spoke of love and loss and war that a man could come to truly understand the world he lived in and to use that knowledge, to use that power, to better himself and his family.

Klaus was more basic in pursuit. He read like any cultured man, bore an interest in certain texts, but he was not Elijah. Nor was he Kol. Klaus could be still, he could stand for hours on end with naught but a paintbrush, or on occasion a classic novel to entertain him. Kol had never been able to sit still long enough to appreciate the beauty of solitude. Always moving, always seeking mischief and company. Rebekah was different again. Finn and Henrick had never had the chance to learn beyond their paltry beginnings, to appreciate the beauty of time. He'd stuck one in a box for centuries and the other...

He didn't like to think of the past. It hurt more than he'd dare say. But as he stood back, wet paintbrush in hand, and stared at his latest creation, so similar, so hauntingly familiar to all the rest, all Klaus could think about was the past and Lord Byron's words.

No, he'd never been one to mull over the meaning behind written works. There was a tempestuous soul to Shakespeare's words. A sweet sadness to dear old Slyvia's self-deprecating poems. And yet, it was Lord Byron's poem, his words that drew images of sweet blonde curls and sad blue eyes to the forefront of his mind.

She Walks in Beauty.

He had never understood why, to this day, the poem had been entrenched in his mind for the last twenty years.

But then, he did know.

Of course he knew.

He wondered sometimes, almost dangerously, what she was doing.

Was she well? Was she safe? Happy? Did she think of him as he did her? Were her dreams a collage of colour and sound, the happier moments of their time together? Would she ever come back?

Klaus knew that someday he would see her again. He was resolute in his belief that one day, one beautiful glorious day she would walk back into his arms. Until that day came he would continue to paint her likeness with such careful dedication, never truly capturing the light of her eyes, the beauty of her smile or the sweet curl of her hair as it swayed in the wind. He would paint, a man resolute, a sentry waiting for his post to finally end.

A soft knock at his bedroom door thundered behind him in the silence. He continued to stare at the blue eyes he'd tried so hard to replicate but always, in his mind, just fell short of capturing. The door softly clicked open behind him.

It was most likely Elijah.

"In case you haven't noticed brother, I am somewhat preoccupied," lifting the brush, Klaus fanned out the bristles with his thumb and glided the soft yellow paint onto canvas. "Leave. Now."

A small silence followed.

"Good thing I'm not your brother then," Klaus inhaled sharply and turned on his heel. A wicked smile greeted him. "Should I leave a note on my way out? How about: Dear Klaus, came to New Orleans but you were unfortunately very busy. Will pop by later. Love, Caroline. How does that sound?"

The gentle curve of her mouth as it tilted in what he could only describe as the most beautiful smile, the most evanescent softness, he had ever seen stilled his chaotic mind. Her smile bore mischief and laughter. It was soft and fleeting like the gentle breeze on a hot summer's day. The lightness of her hair, the golden spun curls that framed her face; she was all that's best of dark and bright. She walked in beauty as an angel, merciful yet dark in nature; a vampire, a young soul sent to tame the beast.

He'd always thought that she was something else, something untouchable. He had walked the earth for such a long, long time. He'd seen empires rise and fall like the tide, watched as countries tore each other to shreds, killing their way through thousands, bathed in the blood of innocent lives. Humans were just as vicious as he was, just as capable of committing unspeakable acts of cruelty, of evil.

Just as capable of redemption.

He was no different, he never had been.

She'd made him see that, she who stood before him with the promise of hope in her eyes and laughter in her smile. A dream, a spectre sent to haunt him. She was something else, she had to be. No other had ever held his heart, had ever created such a longing within him for home.

He was bad, but he'd tried to be better.

For her.

He had tried so hard, thinking before he took action, actually stopping to consider the alternative, the less impulsive route. He did it for Eva. He did it for her.

Klaus had waited for twenty years, surrounded and yet so utterly alone. Only his daughter, his selfishly selfless, stubborn, wishfully hopeful, naively wise daughter had ever been able to chip away at the wall he'd built around his heart; a wall that had crumbled when she'd left, a wall that he'd built higher as the years ticked by. Eva was a dichotomy, opposite in every way, contradictive of her own self.

Uniquely singular.

Just like Caroline.

Caroline.

Klaus slowly set the paintbrush in his hand to the side, eyes never leaving the blonde in front of him.

She was real, wasn't she?

His mind had not gone so far as to conjure such a cruel joke on his behalf.

"No good?" Caroline pursed her lips, her gloriously supple lips. He could remember their taste. He'd craved them, craved her, for near on two decades. "You're right. Needs a little work. Maybe I should –"

Klaus moved on instinct, his body reacting where his mind could not. He moved toward her so fast, so blindingly fast, that when he was upon her, his hands tentatively wrapping around her shoulders, his eyes drinking her in, she gasped in surprise.

Perfection.

She was his perfection.

Beautifully flawed, stunningly wild; the beauty that haunted his mind, the ghost of his greatest longing here and alive, real and in his arms. He could scarcely comprehend the irony of her arrival. He had been thinking of her not two seconds before, picturing the sweet moment of her return, when she'd waltzed through the door.

She was here.

For how long, he did not know.

He didn't care. She was here.

As Caroline opened her mouth, words of playful banter on the tip of her tongue, Klaus knew that he couldn't bare it, couldn't bare the masked anxiety in her eyes. He moved before he could think twice, capturing her lips with his own.

They had time enough to talk.

For now, it was her lips he craved, the sweet addiction of her touch, the smell of her hair.

Caroline consumed his senses.

He revelled in the beautiful abyss, mind blank and unburdened.

In this moment, she was his and he was hers. The last twenty years flew by as though they were nothing, no more than a minute in time, as they stood there.

He was simply Klaus. Not the king, not a father, not a murderer or the original hybrid; he was just Klaus. A man with the woman of his dreams in his arms, finally, after so long.

He felt the smile on her lips, her hand on his cheek. He didn't dare open his eyes in case the beautiful spectre in his arms dissolved into the shadows. He didn't dare close his eyes in case she did. As he pulled back slightly, his lips gently ghosting across hers Klaus found the will to open his eyes. Two beautiful blue orbs stared back at him, soft and sweet and real.

"Hello to you too," her voice teased him sweetly.

He breathed out harshly, leaning back, hands never leaving her face. Somehow they'd managed to find their way into her hair, tangled in gold so firmly he wondered briefly if in his haste, his need to hold her, to be close to her, he had hurt her at all.

"Caroline."

She smiled brilliantly at him, her small hands coming to rest over his, gently pulling them from her face and her hair, clasping them tightly in the small space between them. Her touch was like fire.

"I'm here," she breathed out softly, reassuringly.

His reply was hesitant, disbelieving, curious, a question masked as a statement. "You're here."

"I missed you."

Could it be? Could he dare to hope that she had returned, that she meant to stay with him?

Life and love had been nothing but cruel mistresses. His hope was hesitant, small and wavering.

"And I you, sweetheart," Klaus replied, eyes dancing across her face. If she did leave, he was determined to memorise her every feature, her every freckle. He would know the lines of her face better than he did his own. He would capture her beauty for all eternity. If he could not have her, then that would be his consolation. "More than you could possibly know."

"Oh, I have an idea," her head tilted to the left as she leaned around him, eyes drawn to the forgotten painting.

A very rare blush crept up his neck as she surveyed the portrait. He had never been self-conscious of his art, his style was his own and he'd always been comfortable with that, self-assured in his abilities as an artist. But as she continued to stare at her portrait, eyes raking over the curve of her smile, her hair, the blush he'd tried so hard to capture on her cheeks, he wondered if she liked it.

He hoped that she did.

"That and a little birdy may have dropped a hint or two," she offered after a moment, gaze returning back to his. Blue warmth surrounded him as he stared into her eyes, their honesty, their sincerity and openness taking him by surprise. She answered his unspoken question, the confusion in the lines of his face revealing his uncertainty at her words. "Eva."

Klaus started at the sound of his daughter's name on her lips. "Eva?"

Caroline nodded, a hand coming to rest on the side of his face. "She's beautiful, Klaus. Really."

Eva.

His Eva.

She'd found her.

For him.

Klaus felt his heart constrict tightly at the thought, worry creeping into his eyes.

Was Caroline here because she wanted to be?

Was she here for him of her own accord?

Eva was his daughter in almost every way possible. She was not above compulsion to get what she wanted, even if she had a proverbial heart of gold.

"And persuasive," Caroline continued with a laugh. "Daddy's little girl, I think?"

"Love –"

She stopped him, her finger atop his lips, understanding in her eyes.

"I'm here for me, Klaus," she spoke quietly, honestly. "Me. No one else."

Was she? Truly. Could he dare hope that?

"I'm not here because Eva twisted my arm. I'm here because I want to be," Caroline continued, removing her hand from his face. "I'm not going to lie to you and say that when she first showed up at my door, begging me to leave with her, to come back to you and New Orleans that my first reaction was to immediately say yes. I told her no."

Klaus bit the inside of his cheek, jaw clenched as he tried, tried so desperately to let her have her say. Her words cut at him though, a sweet torture. His daughter had found her. His ever curious, ever hopeful Eva had found her for him.

And Caroline had said no.

He wondered at her change of heart.

He must have spoken his concern aloud as a soft, sad smile blossomed on her face. It was tender, saccharine; he could almost taste the memory on her lips.

Caroline moved further into the room, coming to stand before the unfinished painting. He watched her, watched the way she tilted her head as she surveyed the painting once more. "Someone...a good friend of mine showed me the truth."

A good friend whose memory bore a tender longing, a sad story; he wondered who dared draw such emotion from her, who dared chip away at her veneer of control, her beautiful composure.

Jealously bubbled in his chest.

"I was afraid. Afraid of losing everything," she confessed sadly, turning to look at him. Such a sad picture she painted; strong yet weak, bold yet hesitant. "I couldn't see what I had to gain. You told me once not to be afraid, to not let fear hold me back. So I'm not. I'm here because I want to be. I'm here because I choose you."

I choose you.

Such pretty words.

They held no meaning and yet, they were everything – all he had ever wanted to hear.

He couldn't let himself believe.

He wanted to, so desperately. He trusted her, trusted in her love and his, trusted that in the end there would always be something holding her back, drawing her back to the life she'd left behind. Be it the doppelganger or the Ripper, one way or another her loyalty to them would shine through.

"I won't let you leave again," he challenged, threatened even, with some hope that he would scare her. If she fled now, she would save them both a lot of heartache in the end.

"I know. I'm counting on that."

"Caroline –"

"I love you," she argued, eyes flashing dangerously. "I never stopped. I did what I had to do; I travelled and I lived, loved. But through it all, there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think of you."

Klaus clenched his jaw, closing his eyes against the pain.

She loved him.

She'd thought of him.

He had waited for her, waited so that she could grow, so that she could live and decide what was right for her. He'd let her go, just as Hayley had said. And she'd come back to him. Again. Now that she was here, confessing all over again, he finally dared to hope.

"If you stay, then you stay. I will not lose you again, sweetheart. I can't. I mean that."

Caroline rolled her eyes. The action caught him off guard. "Stop trying to scare me, Klaus. It won't work."

He loved her enough to let her go the first time. That had been a moment of true growth for him. But now – now he was not strong enough. He would not let her go a second. He couldn't.

She saw the danger in his eyes and smiled, a pretty blonde distraction in a sheer blue blouse, settling herself comfortably on the edge of his bed. There was a challenge in her eyes as she stared at him.

"I know that this is forever," she remarked, licking her lips, body leaning back as she made herself comfortable against his pillows. "I'm not a naive little girl anymore."

No, she most certainly was not.

Caroline smiled at him, hand outstretched. "You are my last love, are you not?"

The question challenged him, mocked him.

All Klaus could do was take her hand.

He was a man found, a man drowned; the fierce look in her eyes held his tongue captive.

He kissed her soft lips, losing himself in her.

After a thousand years he'd finally found home.

As always, thank you for reading.

The inspiration for this story was the song Heartlines by Florence & the Machine.

Tears of Ebon-Grey