A/N: hiya folks, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for my tardiness but I had to deal with some bureaucratic bullshit for uni, and also this chapter had a hard time coming out of me because it went in a totally different direction than I initially thought. You know how characters develop a life of their own and defy the author? Yeah, that. I'm not sure about the conclusion to this story, but I couldn't write it any other way. Like nothing else felt right, so my hand was literally forced lol. I hope you like it! And if you don't, blame the characters.

Also, you should listen to "Waves Crashing on A Distant Shore" by Clint Mansell from the San Junipero episode soundtrack. But only start listening towards the halfway point because I am particular like that. Enjoy!

(thank you for all your reviews and support!)

2/2

Klaus wanted to give up and go home.

He'd learned every craft under the sun, he'd been taught by the greatest masters. He'd apprenticed under the elite Varangian guard, sailed with Magellan, fenced with Giacomo di Grassi…but all of that for naught, because he was no good at video games.

He had never thought he'd have to excel at this one day.

Technically, all the skills he'd mastered were often on display in these fantasy adventures. You had to fight knights and storm castles. But he was not really doing all those things. He had to wield a cumbersome remote to really perform any worthy action.

Tyler Lockwood scoffed next to him. "Dude, you're really rusty. I know you almost died, but what the hell?"

His goddamn hybrid was scolding him for not being able to play a video game. His nostrils flared.

He watched helplessly as a pretorian guard snatched his player and cut him into ribbons.

"Shut up."

It was his first time playing. He hated losing too.

Tyler smiled. "It's okay. Not your fault you suck. I'm just naturally better."

Klaus knew this was just some good-natured teasing between boys but he really wanted to punch Tyler in the face.

He'd come over to his place to get some information out of him regarding his corpse, but the afternoon had quickly veered into unproductive territory.

"I need a break," he muttered, getting up and tossing the remote away from him.

"Hey, you okay?" Tyler's eyes held no mockery this time. "Want me to get you something to drink?"

Klaus made a sound in the back of his throat. He'd always wanted his hybrids to genuinely care for him. This was probably as close as he'd ever get.

"It's just these…headaches I've been having," he said, rubbing his forehead intently. "Ever since I came back. I can't stop dreaming about him."

"Who?" Tyler asked, eyebrows raised.

"Klaus." It felt odd to say his own name out loud. "I keep dreaming about him. I…what did you guys do with his body, anyway?"

Tyler frowned, a shadow falling over his face. "I don't know. Stefan said he took care of it. I hoped he burned it."

Klaus clicked his jaw. So it was as Bonnie had told him. Stefan Salvatore held to key to this mystery.

"I have to talk to him. Whatever he did wasn't enough," Klaus muttered, hoping to sound afflicted enough.

"Shit, okay, we'll get on that," Tyler said, drawing himself up, ready for action. "I'll call him right now, if you want."

Klaus nodded. Despite everything, he had given Tyler a new confidence, a new purpose in life. Even if it meant his hybrid would always hate him.

"I didn't burn it. I didn't burn the corpse."

Stefan poured himself a full tumbler. He looked like a malcontent child who'd been found out. He looked guilty.

Klaus released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. So, his body was still recoverable. For the sake of argument, he asked, "why didn't you?"

"I should have," Stefan said, forehead creasing dramatically. He paced up and down the boardinghouse. He was punishing himself for his weakness, it was plain to see. "I know I should. But I've known him for a long time. He can't hurt anyone now anyway."

Klaus rested his hands on his knees. It was a good thing he was sitting down. Stefan had been his friend, his companion. His only ally, at one point in his life. To know that a part of him still honored that bond felt almost like a blow. It hurt more, knowing that Stefan had tricked him into dying while still caring for him.

He tried to put his thoughts in order. He had to plead his case. "Where's the body now? I need to see it. I need to know what's happening to me."

Stefan rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Jeremy, I …can't disclose that information to you. I trust you and I want to help you get through this, but it's too dangerous for you to find out."

"It's my life we're talking about," Klaus replied hotly and for once, he and Jeremy were one.

"I know and like I said, I'll get to the bottom of this, I promise. I'll find out if Klaus has found a way to escape. But I can't take you to him."

"You sound like you don't even know where he is," Klaus retorted petulantly. To his surprise, Stefan flinched, as if he had been taunted with the truth.

"Oh my God," Klaus said, borrowing Jeremy's jargon for once. "You don't know, do you?"

Stefan's mouth turned into a grim line. "I, uh, made sure no one could find his body again, including myself."

Klaus put his head in his hands. He wanted to throttle the stupid vampire in front of him, bond or no bond. He had a terrible suspicion. Hadn't they once talked about punishing wayward vampires without daggering them? Hadn't he told him how?

What's the fun in finishing their lives when you can prolong their misery? he'd laughed, carelessly, and Stefan had echoed him in his debauchery, happy to go along with all of it.

Look where that had got him now.

"You should just tell me…I mean, it's not like I can find it now," Klaus rasped in defeat.

Stefan drained his tumbler. "I, uh, I locked him in a safe and dumped him in the Pacific Ocean. I don't know exactly where."

Klaus flinched. The second blow was soft but deadly. That's what he'd been afraid of. His apprentice had followed in his footsteps exactly.

But that couldn't be the end of it. It couldn't. He would swim to it, even if it killed him. He would die again just to wrest his body from the jaws of the ocean. He would.

Stefan walked him out the door.

Klaus paused in the driveway, feet frozen in place. What about Jeremy?

If he was in Klaus' body and he'd been locked in a safe at the bottom of the sea…

There was no doubt about it now.

He's dead.

Gone.

All he could think of was Bonnie and how she would feel if she found out. Her sorrow didn't gratify him all that much.

Klaus tried to drone out the sound of raucous laughter and water splashing. He averted his eyes from the sight of gangly naked bodies jumping into the lake. Skinny dipping had never been his passion. Water itself was less a mystery and more a colorless prison. Mikael used to hold his head underwater for endless minutes whenever he wanted the boy to remember his lessons.

He had taken that lesson and taught it to Stefan. He had played right into his father's hand.

What's the fun in finishing their lives when you can prolong their misery?

He had failed his friend, just as his friend had failed him.

"Hey, what are you doing in the dark all by yourself?"

Bonnie sidled up to him, holding two red plastic cups.

"Not by myself. You're here." He managed a smile as he looked up at her. He was relieved she had decided not to go skinny dipping too. He did not want the water to have her too. He also didn't want to contemplate her body in any state of undress.

"Nice try. You're sulking again." She sat next to him on the mossy log. The lake was usually still, but now it was disturbed by so many rowdy teenagers and its waters lapped nervously against the loamy bank.

"Is it the headaches? You've been complaining."

Klaus had made the mistake of mentioning his phantom "headaches" to her. Of course, Bonnie being Bonnie, she was determined to find the source of this new magical disturbance. She had been looking up information in her Grimoire, much to his dismay.

"No, I'm okay. I just…find it hard to join in on the fun," he said, picking up a pebble and throwing it in the lake. He took the red cup she proffered.

Bonnie nudged him in the shoulder. "How come?"

Klaus nudged her back. "Maybe I'm tired of the same old crowd. It's not like you're the life of the party either."

Bonnie winced. He could see he had inadvertently hurt her. He bit his tongue. "Not that you need to be."

"Well, I am making an effort. People tell me I need to be more fun."

Klaus scoffed, temper flaring. "What people?"

Bonnie laughed. "Easy there, tiger. They mean well."

"Yeah, well, they can go to hell," he murmured darkly. He found it maddening that the simpletons around them thought he and Bonnie required their advice.

He noticed she was staring at him queerly. He cleared his throat. "What I mean is, you're great just the way you are."

Bonnie smiled shyly and lowered her eyes. No matter how many compliments she received, she always greeted them with a sense of denial.

"I mean it," he insisted.

"You sound like Colin Firth in that movie."

"Which movie?"

"I watched it recently with Care. Bridget Jones's Diary? It was so corny and great. You wouldn't like it though. It's not exactly punk rock."

Klaus drew himself up a little. "I don't only like punk rock. I have range."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows. "You'd be willing to watch a rom-com with me?"

Klaus wondered if Jeremy had refused her in the past. He shrugged. "Why not? I bet it has more entertainment value than whatever is going on here."

Bonnie drummed her fingers excitedly. "I'm down if you are."

The evening dusk dappled her face with shades of ochre. He laced his fingers with hers. It was so easy to touch her, to receive reciprocation.

Jeremy is dead and my body is lost.

He tried to push the thoughts aside. More randy teenagers started screaming and splashing in their vicinity. Klaus pulled her off the log. "Come on."

He was angry at this cohort of idlers who'd never had to fight for anything in their lives, who never would.

Klaus dragged Bonnie towards the lake.

"What are you doing?" she giggled.

"I want to ruin their fun."

They walked into the lake, fully-clothed. They started splashing everyone else. Not playfully, not in good fun. It was more like an attack. Klaus hoped they'd drown. Bonnie even used a bit of magic to make the water level rise.

The kids weren't happy. They kept shouting abuse while trying to get out of the lake.

Klaus smiled. He didn't know if he felt better, but Bonnie was laughing next to him and maybe that was enough.

"I love her friends. They're so…British," Bonnie was saying as she dabbed her wet hair with the towel. They were dressed down in their PJs, snuggled under the covers in his bed, watching Bridget Jones's Diary.

"They're pretty colorful," he agreed, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Ooh, check it out. Here's the scene I was telling you about."

Mark Darcy followed Bridget Jones into the foyer downstairs. She thought he was saying goodbye but he had stopped to tell her it didn't matter if she was a horrendous public speaker or if her mother was a nutter. He liked her anyway.

"I like you, just the way you are," Bonnie mouthed along with the actor, eyes glowing softly.

Klaus swallowed the knot in his throat.

Just the way you are.

The statement, innocent and romantic, felt like a cruel irony for Klaus. No, she wouldn't like him just the way he was. Not at all. Maybe it was the feel of her warm body pressed up against his and the sweet-simmering tension of his disguise, but he slipped.

"You say that, but would you really mean it?"

Bonnie tore herself away from the screen. "What do you mean?"

Klaus bit his tongue. He should have stayed quiet. He struggled with his words. "Only that…maybe you wouldn't like me just the way I am…with all my faults…all the mistakes I've made."

"That's not true, Jer. I would still like you. I'm the last person who'll ever judge you."

Klaus pondered on her words for a moment. Bonnie had always been the judgmental witch in his eyes, the narrow-minded girl who understood little of his world. But…maybe that was just on the surface of things. Maybe Bonnie did not judge you for your mistakes as long as you admitted they were mistakes. Maybe her loyalty mattered more. Maybe when push came to shove, Bonnie Bennett would be in your corner. In his corner.

No. You know that's folly.

"You're right. I know you won't," he said, pulling her closer in his arms, resting his chin on top of her hair to hide his face. "I'm rambling. Let's just watch the movie."

But Bonnie was unsettled. He could tell by the way her shoulders tensed. When the credits rolled, she grabbed the side of his face and turned him towards her.

"I know we've been through a lot, but never doubt me, okay?"

The way she was looking at him, it felt like she was peeling back each layer of skin, grasping with eager fingers at his true form.

Klaus felt for a moment that she could see him, could see the real him. And what she saw must have perplexed her. Her expression wavered. Perhaps it was she who doubted him now.

He lunged for her quickly to make it all disappear. He kissed her deeply, kissed her so that she fell back on the bed and he covered her.

Bonnie seemed to give a small protest against his lips, but she soon dissolved into his embrace. He gripped her cheek with one hand and his other hand settled on her waist, under the pajama shirt, right over her ribcage. He could feel her caged pulse under his palm. He started kissing the slope of her neck, the salt and the cherry soap, the place where his teeth should have been. Bonnie arched her back against him and her hands gripped his shoulder blades, bringing him closer. He had been craving this and now with Jeremy dead and his body in the middle of the ocean there was little to stop him from indulging in the only relief left.

His fingers skimmed higher, cupping a breast. He wanted to put his mouth there.

Bonnie gasped. " 's too fast…"

Klaus drew himself up.

"Slower?" he asked, looking down at her. She was splayed against the pillow, hair in disarray. Her eyes large and wide like a young doe's.

She nodded wordlessly. Her face was like a bruise. He lowered himself until he had her trapped. His knee between her legs, his nose against hers, their eyes open. He had seen her from across a meadow on fire, his enemy, the girl of his proverbial nightmares. Truth be told, he had feared her more than she had ever feared him.

Now there was nothing left to fear. He could have her, completely, and he wouldn't have to feel bad about it.

He ran his thumb over her lips and she shivered slightly.

He lifted the hem of her shirt and she helped him pull it over her head.

She lay back down, hands folded over her breasts. "Um…can we turn off the light?"

Klaus took her hands gently and pried them apart. "No, I need to see you."

We all crave to be seen, he thought with a pang. She was beautiful and afraid of her beauty because it had never done her any good. He pinned her arms to the bed. He took each breast in his mouth, until the taste of her was all there was.

Bonnie struggled against his hold. She hated being helpless against the waves of pleasure. She moaned like a reproach.

"Jeremy…" she dragged his name out as his mouth went lower.

Eventually, he released her arms. Her fingers sank into his hair. She clenched her thighs around his head and he felt the warmth of a hundred suns.

She was always kindled, a loving fireplace that you gladly burned for.

He didn't even care that she screamed his name. Jeremy, Jeremy, oh God, Jeremy…He owned the boy now, just like he owned her cries.

He rested his head on her stomach and let it rise and fall against his cheek as she recovered from the orgasm. Her thighs were soaked. He followed a drop of sweat with his thumb.

"I –I think I'm ready," she said, voice weak, but sated.

He rose on his elbows and pulled himself up against her.

Bonnie stared at his lips indeterminately. He kissed her, letting her taste herself.

Bonnie hesitated for a moment before she kissed back. She moaned against his mouth.

She could feel his hardness against her leg.

She broke the kiss.

"It won't hurt now, will it?" she asked him solemnly. "Because I'm already wet, so… it'll be easier?"

Klaus closed his eyes. Her words were little shards of glass. He wished he could go through with it. He wished he could bury himself there and release everything he'd kept inside him these months.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do that to her.

Not yet anyway.

He lowered himself again until his head was resting on her stomach.

"Jeremy?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'm okay for tonight. Let's not rush anything. I want to just…be in this moment."

Bonnie ran her fingers through his hair. "Are you sure? Is it something I…?"

Klaus looked up at her. "No, you were perfect."

Bonnie smiled down on him. "I like you, just the way you are."

Klaus rested his cheek against her belly.

"I like you, just the way you are," he echoed softly.

"Goodnight, Jer," she said, voice thick with sleep.

"Goodnight, love," he replied, nuzzling her stomach.

He didn't notice when her hand stilled in his hair.

She resumed her ministrations, after a while. She must have heard wrong.

Elena coughed with meaning as she handed him the grocery list. It was his turn to do the shopping. He'd found he actually enjoyed going to the supermarket. It cleared his head and made him appreciate his own lot in life. Gods, imagine if Jeremy had had a job in retail.

"So, Bonnie stayed the night, huh?"

Klaus paused on his way out. "Yeah?"

Elena ran a hand through her hair, messing up her pony-tail. "I mean, of course she can, she's your girlfriend…And I'm glad it's going well…but are you guys using protection?"

"Christ."

"I only ask because I know we deal with a lot of supernatural stuff on a daily basis, but we do not want to add a baby to that list."

"Elena, if you don't shut up I swear to God –"

He had no qualms that Jeremy would have sounded just as appalled.

"I'm sorry! It's just these walls are pretty thin and –"

"Goodbye."

Well, he was going to have to live at Bonnie's house from now on.

On Monday, she blushed when he mentioned Bridget Jones's Diary.

"I hear there's a sequel," he said casually, pulling the backpack over his shoulder.

"You want to watch it?" Her voice held a little bit of incredulity, still.

"I think I proved myself last time."

Bonnie blushed again. "Yeah, you did."

There was something undecided in her eyes, even as she smiled. He didn't bother to analyze it, though he should have.

The project in Art Class was the first time he'd enjoyed something at school.

They'd been tasked with drawing a portrait of someone who inspired them. It could be a dog, or the President. It didn't matter. It just had to be done by the end of the month.

As far as subjects went, this one was rather old-fashioned, but he was happy that for once, his skills coincided somewhat with Jeremy's.

He thought Bonnie would be excited to hear about the portrait, but she seemed nervous at first.

"I don't know…I've never done that sort of thing before. Also, I can't stand still for my life. And I wouldn't even know what to wear."

Wear nothing, he wanted to say but stayed his tongue. "Wear something light. It doesn't matter. You could put on a potato sack and it would look good."

"Stop being a flatterer, this is homework. And you're not painting me in a potato sack."

Klaus pulled her against him. "Whatever the lady commands."

Bonnie smiled, but she wriggled out of his grasp before the bell rang. She walked to class with her arms cradled around her waist, where his hands had been.

"So, where do you want me?"

Klaus looked up from his notebook where he had been drawing complicated diagrams obsessively. The notebook almost slipped out of his hands. He opened his mouth, but no cogent sound came out. He felt that that was probably in character for Jeremy.

Bonnie stepped into the room in her new garments. She'd said she wanted to surprise him.

He had expected that sunflower dress she'd worn last week or one of her more daring corset-tops, but instead she was wearing a silk dressing robe which fell down her body like a leash of foxes. He thought of foxes because of the color; the robe was buttery yet the inner folds were stained a deep, autumn red.

"You, uh, said I should wear something light." Bonnie fidgeted with the cordon, standing before him. She was clearly nervous, shifting from one leg to the other. "Does it look stupid?"

Klaus kept staring. He had seen her naked, but her figure under the robe was different, slippery, one moment ripe, one moment half-formed. The fabric clung to her and released her.

"No, you look lovely," he said, and then added, "…and totally hot."

He winced internally. Jeremy-speak was slowly eroding his endurance. But needs must.

Bonnie giggled self-consciously and swayed on the spot, turning the red folds into a halo. "That's what Care thought too."

Klaus felt an unfamiliar sting at the thought of someone else seeing her like this. He wondered if Jeremy had ever gotten a glimpse in the past.

"She helped me shop for it," Bonnie interrupted his train of thought. "You should've seen us in the lingerie aisle. I didn't ask Elena to come, because well…you know."

"She's my sister and it would've been weird," Klaus provided dryly.

Bonnie smiled uneasily. "Pretty much. It's even weirder now…She acts so embarrassed around me. I don't think she'll ever adjust to the idea of us."

Klaus shrugged. "I don't need her to."

"She's your sister and my best friend."

"So what?"

Bonnie hesitated. "You know, she says you've been different since I brought you back."

"Different how? It's not like she knew me before," he drawled, feeling that he'd added just the right amount of teenage angst.

Bonnie chewed on her bottom lip. He suspected she was about to say something else about the subject, so he used a diversion. "Now come on, tell me. Did you buy anything else from the lingerie aisle?"

She smiled primly and twirled her cordon bashfully. "A lady never tells."

Klaus bit his tongue. Now he was distracted. Again.

"So, how should I pose?" Bonnie asked.

Right, he'd almost forgotten about that.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been an enjoyable little exercise.

He had a willing, living model – which was rare for him – and he was in the mood to experiment. He wanted to use colors and shade to capture the exact moment when Bonnie Bennett let down her guard. In the past months he had noticed that the harried expression on her face often gave way to a softness that was not simpering but rather mysterious. As if there were many sides to her he had not yet discovered.

Sadly, these were not normal circumstances and he had to draw a portrait of her the way Jeremy Gilbert would: bumbling and heartfelt and ultimately lacking. He had to draw poorly on purpose. Not too poorly, since young Jeremy harbored some talent. But the portrait wouldn't do him or her any justice.

He thought about her question for a moment. Did it even matter where she posed when the result would be underwhelming?

"Here, I'll sit on the bed. You sit by the window." He spoke before he knew what he was saying.

Bonnie looked surprised. "By the window?"

"Trust me."

The little witch acquiesced. She padded to the window and eased herself on the ledge, pulling her folds around her.

Klaus came up to her and arranged her limbs. He made her raise one leg slightly and prop her foot against the low paneling so that her robe fell like blood between her thighs. Next he straightened her elbow and placed her hand on her hip. His movements were gentle, careful, like arranging a delicate tableau vivant.

He splayed her loose hair over one shoulder, but he resisted the temptation to arrange each curl. He knew young Gilbert would never bother so much with a woman's hair, even if that woman was his girlfriend.

"Lean your head against the wall like this," he instructed. He cupped her cheeks and let his fingers linger under her chin where he could feel her spiking pulse. "Now, look out the window."

Bonnie stared at him for a moment, her lips parted. "Okay."

Before he removed himself from her, he bent down and arranged the hem of her robe. He pressed his thumb against the flute of her ankle and she gave a jolt.

"Sorry, I just want everything to be right," he muttered, feeling like a fraud.

Then he sequestered himself on the bed, notebook in hand.

Bonnie stared obediently out the window. The plunge of her neckline was unbroken all the way down into the dressing robe. The sun dappled her skin like the hide of a doe. He'd noticed the celestial star seemed to be drawn to her.

Klaus hungered for this image to be perfect. It would be sinful to draw her clumsily… yet he'd have to try.

Bonnie's chest rose and fell quickly. Her head moved a fraction.

"Jer?"

"Yes?"

"Wouldn't it be better if I looked at you?"

He swallowed. It was better to see her face in profile and not have those trusting eyes on him.

"The overall effect works better this way."

"You sound like you've been commissioned by The National Gallery of Art."

"I wouldn't accept their commission. They're total idiots when it comes to art."

Bonnie huffed. "How would you know that?"

"I just do." He was too focused on his task to bother explaining.

"Excuse me, Mr. Standards."

"I just want it to look natural, like I caught you mid-thought."

Bonnie issued a small breath and disturbed the curls poised on her shoulder. "I'm gonna get a crick in my neck."

He was already sketching, doing his best to capture the improvisation in her movements.

Bonnie was scratching the paneling with her toe. She pulled on one of the curls and craned her neck towards the window. "Now I see why you made me sit here."

Klaus looked up from the notebook. "Hmm?"

Bonnie did not turn her head. She touched the window pane with her fingers. "Remember the last time you climbed up here and made all that noise? Dad almost had a heart attack."

Klaus wrinkled his nose. So Jeremy was in the habit of window-crashing. How juvenile. He did not like fooling around. He used the front door. He liked to take what was his without diversions. But those days were gone, weren't they?

"It was worth it," he replied glibly, because he'd heard the kids use this expression whenever they exposed themselves to insignificant risk. But then he realized what he'd said. He winced. "I mean, not about your dad's almost heart attack…"

Bonnie turned her profile halfway. She smiled uncertainly. "I get it."

Her eyes were staring beyond him, lost in memory. Had Jeremy's nightly visits been that memorable? Had he seen her in fewer clothes than this, then? He couldn't help clicking his jaw at the thought.

Perhaps this silly haze of jealousy prevented him from grasping the bigger picture.

Bonnie Bennett had just tested him and he'd failed.

When she complained of a headache, he didn't catch on. He said they'd finish the sketching another time. He was frankly relieved, because the image of her against the window in that robe had an incantatory effect.

"Plus I've got so much homework to get through," she said, dashing into her bathroom to get out of her robe.

"Oh, yeah…homework," he said dumbly, trying not to think of her changing. "I have that too."

Bonnie walked him down the stairs. At the door, she looked at him indecisively for a moment before she rose on her toes and pecked him on the lips.

"See you tomorrow," she said with a small, brittle smile.

But the next day she was too busy to see him; apparently it was shopping day with her dad. The day afterwards she had to write a paper for English and he couldn't offer to help her because Jeremy was not supposed to be a great reader. In fact, Bonnie told him over the phone that she wanted to study alone. The day after that, she helped out Caroline with cheer practice. She finally promised to see him on Friday at the Grill, but at the last minute she called saying she'd been summoned to the Salvatores' boardinghouse. Apparently there was an "emergency".

Klaus waited for her on her doorstep. He didn't care if he came face to face with her dad. He had to be here when she returned from the enemies' den.

But she did not come home that night.

He tried calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail.

He waited. He fell asleep on her porch, leaning against one of the pillars. That's how she found him at dawn.

It was Bonnie who gently stirred him awake.

Klaus rubbed his eyes blearily and stared up at her pale face. "Bonnie…are you all right? What happened?"

She looked over him in wonder.

"Did you sleep here?" she asked, voice tight with reproach.

"No…or I guess I did."

"That was really dumb, Jer. Come on… let's get inside. You need to warm up."

His human body ached from sitting in one position all night. He could barely get his muscles to move. The sad discomfort of sleeping in the cold had not visited him since he'd been a child.

"Here." She offered her hand for him to grab onto. When he touched her palm, he felt a short bolt of magic crackling under the surface.

His brain was still addled; he didn't stop to wonder why Bonnie's magic was awake.

He stumbled into the house with her help, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Bonnie had held him up like this when he had first woken in Jeremy's body.

They made it into the kitchen and she sat him down at the counter while she busied herself with the teapot.

"You know you could catch pneumonia sitting out there all night, don't you?" she said, her back turned to him.

Klaus was too tired to reply. He rested his head on his arms and watched her as she made tea. Her movements were broken by small interruptions; Bonnie pausing with her hand on the cupboard, shoulders coiled, Bonnie suppressing a sigh as she poured the leaves into the pot, Bonnie working up the courage to say something.

Klaus raised his head. He could smell it in the air, her fear.

His stomach dropped. The hairs on the back of his neck went taut. The animal in him rose.

He got up slowly and shuffled around the counter.

Bonnie still had her back turned to him, but her movements stilled.

"So what was the emergency?"

"Um…I had to update them on something I found in my Grimoire, a spell for Elena."

Klaus took a step closer to her. Her spine was straight, her fists clenched by her side.

He could practically see the magic shimmering in the air, a swarm of fireflies.

"You know, don't you?" he said against her hair.

Bonnie shivered violently. Her hands were close to the knife block. She could seize the blade. But she'd never hurt Jeremy.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"A w-while. I – I wasn't sure at first."

"And are you now?" he said, closing his eyes against her hair.

He was ready for whatever came next. He'd always run from death, but he was oddly calm now. Oddly at peace. Let her do what she must.

"You – we almost –" her voice broke.

She stifled an angry sob.

Klaus touched her arm. "I'm sorry –"

He didn't feel it, when his body was knocked against the wall. He'd been hurled back by her magic. His head rang as he picked himself up from the floor.

"Don't touch me."

"Bonnie – I never meant to hurt –"

"Yes, you did. You always do." Her eyes were swimming in tears.

And perhaps that's what hurt the most. The always. It was his arsenal, hurting the people he cared about.

He lowered his head. "I do."

"But you know what?" she laughed brokenly. "It's not even your fault, this time. I did it. I cast the spell to stop your heart and when I did that, I made it happen. You switched bodies – and I killed Jeremy."

She fell back against the counter, hands over her face, shoulders wracking. "I killed him."

Klaus hated this sight more than anything in the world.

"No. You have no blame in this. It was between me and Stefan, our foolish rivalry, our meaningless battle of wills."

Bonnie shook her head. "Stop talking. Stop sounding just like him."

Klaus didn't know if the "him" she was referring to was himself or Jeremy. He wished now his heart had really stopped when she had cast the spell.

She kept sobbing against the kitchen counter.

Eventually, he felt the magic inside her quell. She had no appetite for violence.

He approached her carefully.

She didn't hurl him away. She let him come closer.

When he pulled her into his arms, she didn't protest. She cried against his chest.

He ran his hand down her back helplessly, knowing he could not comfort her. He pressed his lips to her hair vicariously, because he knew it would be the last time.

After a while, she stopped crying.

She spoke against his chest, her voice a cracked monotone.

"Elena doesn't know and we won't tell her. It would break her. You have to go. You have to leave Mystic Falls and never come back. Write her a letter, tell her you joined the Marines, I don't care."

I don't care.

She was only giving him his freedom because she couldn't bring herself hurt Jeremy. He would take the undue kindness, even if it was not meant for him. He always did.

Yet she held onto him a moment longer, eyes closed.

He inhaled her scent, hoping it would last him.

And then, like a window closing shut, she turned away from him and walked out of the kitchen.

He was alone.

Eighteen months later

He had always wanted to be a sailor. From a young age, he would pester Elijah and Finn about it endlessly.

"Why don't we take to sea? Why can't we be pirates? When are we going to sail east?"

It was their destiny. Their Viking forefathers had never stayed in one place for too long.

And then he grew up and the ocean was no longer a mystery, a possibility. It was just another place on Earth where his nature prevailed. Another place his father had tainted.

It was strange now, sitting on the docks, looking at the grey Leviathan that stormed the horizon, thinking that he had been bored with it once.

The ocean was a prison, but all prisons held a sway.

He ate his sandwich with relish. He loved the pickles best.

Break was almost over. He brushed the crumbs from his beard.

He returned to his post and climbed up into the crane.

He maneuvered the cargo onto the ship. The gaudy crates tickled him with their vibrant colors. There was a song playing on the radio about driving all night to see someone's face. He turned it up.

He still kept the sketch he'd drawn of her folded in his pocket.

He didn't hear Sam knock on his dusty window. He had to knock harder.

"Young lady asking for you."

He thought it might be Tamara from customs. He'd already told her he couldn't go out tonight. Sam had agreed to take him out to sea for a small delivery.

He'd sailed with Magellan once, but now he had to pretend he was a rookie.

He knew, realistically, that he would never find his body. But being close to the prison was better than nothing.

"I'll be down in a minute," he told Sam with a practiced smile.

There was a small figure standing at the end of the pier. She was wearing a parka and sturdy boots. She sported short hair now, but he would recognize her anywhere.

He walked slowly, though it felt like the pier would never end.

She didn't turn around to greet him.

He stood next to her on the pier, watching the grey Leviathan. They didn't say hello.

Bonnie's cheeks were red with the cold. Her expression was meditative and empty.

"How did you find me?" he asked hoarsely.

"Magic," she replied evenly.

They sat down on a bench, a few feet apart.

She told him she'd finished her first semester at college. Whitmore, where her Grams used to teach. He congratulated her, said he was happy for her. It felt like talking to another person. It must have felt the same to her.

"And you?" she said, looking him over, registering the familiar features, marking the changes. But her eyes didn't dwell on Jeremy, the boy she knew and loved. They rested on what she thought she saw underneath - the stranger.

"I'm keeping busy," Klaus said, running a hand over his face, as if to hide himself. "I like the work. It's hard, but it strengthens me."

There was a pause between them, a silence that did not feel uncomfortable.

"Are you trying to find your body?" she asked eventually.

Klaus swallowed. "No. Not really."

"That's – that's probably for the best," she said, voice halting for the first time.

"Why?" Why are you here?

"You'd probably only find your death out there." And she stared at the ocean. The place where the self went to die.

She liked his beard. She liked the new angles of his face. She liked the dark circles under his eyes and his derelict sense of fashion. Caroline would've called it hobo-chic.

She could almost pretend this was not a familiar body. She could wrest him out of the tableau, just him - not Gilbert.

"That day you did my portrait... I kissed you even when I knew it wasn't really you," she confessed, ashamed of herself.

Klaus shook his head as he undressed her.

He kissed the inside of her palm and the shame dissolved against his mouth.

Her expression gave way to that mysterious softness he had craved to paint.

For the first time in two years, he heard his name from someone else's lips.

"Klaus," she exhaled against his lips, pouring his name into him as he sank inside her.

It was like being reborn.

Les pêcheurs de perles was always set on a desolate seashore. The fishermen sang about love, about danger, about being faithful to each other, but what they were devoted to were the pearls, the ocean's teeth.

Zurga sacrificed his love. Even though he loved Leila, he let her go with his friend, his other self, Nadir.

He stood alone on the shore, watching them leave.

It was Nadir who always sang the dulcet aria about hearing his lover's voice.

I think I still hear,

hidden under palm trees,

her voice soft and sound

like a song of wood pigeons…

But Klaus imagined that Zurga would sing it too.

He would sing it to a pearl.

(He'd take her sailing with him one day. They would sail west and be pirates. If they came upon his body, they would honor it. They would burn it. But they would not mourn it. It belonged to the ocean now, a pearl among many.)