"Well, here I am", sighed Caroline, putting down her pink duffel bag and two rolling suitcases she had on the floor.

Caroline Forbes was on a vacation. A permanent vacation, away from the craziness of the seemingly-calm Mystic Falls. After kicking some major evil ass with her friends and the Originals and graduating from Mystic Falls High, she was done with the town. Once she left a wild graduation party at the Lockwood mansion, she went home, found a map of the world, closed her eyes, and pointed at a random area of the map. Her finger landed on Greece. The next morning, she went to the airport, carrying minimal luggage, and basically compelled her way to a first-class ticket to Athens.

Thank God for compulsion, she thought. She was broke, she couldn't have gotten a plane ticket to Athens without it. Yet she did. Not only Greece, but also countless cities and countries.

It had now been ten years since she left Mystic Falls. And now she was in some cheap apartment on the outskirts of Paris. It was the total opposite of glam, but Caroline didn't mind. She didn't feel like compelling her way to a suite at a luxury hotel, so she settled for something dirt cheap. Plus, the landlady was a sweet old woman, so she couldn't really resist.

It was a simple room on the third floor at the end of the hall, white paint peeling off the walls. The old wooden floorboards squeaked, and there was a full-sized bed in the middle of the room with white sheets, white fluffy comforter and a simple metal frame, painted white. To the left of the bed, a few feet away, was an old white wardrobe, which smelled like mothballs when she opened it, and had several hangers in it. On the other side of the bed was a small, dark wooden nightstand with a lamp. Another white door on the wall across from the bed revealed a small bathroom, decked in white. "Huh, the owner must really have a thing for white", thought Caroline. White tile, white counter, white sinks, white walls, white toilet, white towels, white shower curtains, white, white, white! The only things that weren't white were the faucets, the showerhead, and those knobs in the shower, all coated in shiny silver. She walked out of the bathroom towards the window. Right by it sat a simple wooden desk, with no drawers or knobs, and chair, both old and, you guessed it, white. She stood by the window, taking in the scene of Paris at night: the beautiful buildings, the muted sounds and distant red and white car lights of traffic in the distance, and in the center of the panoramic view, the glimmering figure of the Eiffel Tower.

It was such a beautiful and breathtaking view, and yet Caroline couldn't help but feel sad. She still kept in touch with all her friends, but things changed ever since she left, and she felt like she had somehow left behind. Elena and Damon lived together in her lake house, Stefan and Rebekah recently started dating and moved to a loft in Chicago, Matt stayed in Mystic Falls with Jeremy and April, and Bonnie went to learn more about witchcraft in some remote region of Europe.

As for Tyler Lockwood? He left Caroline for Hayley, and they moved to LA. While ten years had passed, just thinking about it would create a deep pain in Caroline's chest. What sucked even more was that Tyler tried to keep up the good friend act and constantly kept her updated about how things were with him and Hayley. Obviously, Caroline tried to act like she wasn't hurt, replying back and trying to sound happy for him... when she really truly wasn't.

So here she was, alone in Paris, while all of her friends had someone to be with. The ironic thing was that she was in Paris, the most romantic city in the world, and yet she didn't have that special someone, it was her and her luggage. As she felt more lonely and depressed, her mind wandered to her life in Mystic Falls. She thought of how she was Miss Mystic, of her nights out with Bonnie and Elena, how she constantly gave Stefan advice, how the Originals, one by one, came into town, and how Klaus fancied her, tried to court her…

No, she thought, don't think of him. Whatever you do, don't think of him. He's a stupid, psychotic, hybrid bastard!

And yet, despite her constant denial, despite trying to convince herself otherwise, Klaus was the main reason she left Mystic Falls. Yeah, so lots of stuff went down at Mystic Falls and all, but she dealt with that for two years without too much of a problem. But Klaus? That was a completely different story.

Caroline, despite her best efforts, kept thinking of Klaus. How he saved her from Tyler's bite. How he gave her the dress and ball gown. How she danced with him, talked with him, and how he gave her that picture. How they laughed and enjoyed themselves on their first "date". How, slowly but surely, more of Klaus's human side showed. How as Klaus's human side became more exposed, Caroline found herself falling for him and one day even dared to lean in and give him a-

No, no, no, no! NO. Stop, Caroline, STOP. He's an evil hybrid psychopath, don't. Stop thinking about it, about HIM, damn it!

Caroline let out a hoarse, frustrated yell, throwing her hands up in the air. She then proceeded to walk over to the bed, and fall on it, face first, grabbing a pillow, stuffing her face in it, and yelling some more.

Just then, she felt her right pants pocket vibrate. She took out her phone to check it, and saw that Elena sent her a text. It read:

Hey Care, how ya doing? Still in Beijing?

Caroline sighed, and then texted back:

Hey Elena! I left Beijing, I just arrived in Paris. OMG, it is GORGEOUS here! How are you and Damon?

She set the phone down and continued to just lay face-down on the bed. But not even a minute passed when the phone vibrated again.

Damn, Elena sure texts fast, Caroline thought.

She read the text:

Damon and I are doing great! I still cannot believe that we've been together for 10 years already! Anyways, we miss you SO much. L Come back to Mystic Falls!

Caroline sighed, and then typed out a short reply.

Maybe, we'll see. Well, good night from Paris!

She then went to grab her charger and an adapter from her suitcase, plugging in the adapter into a nearby outlet and then her charger and phone, setting the phone on the little nightstand. She then grabbed some dresses and coats from her rolling suitcase and hung them in the wardrobe. After, she took out a pink tank top and white flannel pants with red hearts and changed into them. Everything else, she left neatly folded in her duffel bag. She took her big black bag of makeup and toiletries to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, and walked out, going back to the bed. She lifted the comforter, got in bed, and tucked herself in.

She stared at the pure alabaster canvas of a room she was in and her eyes slowly started to droop, her vision blurring more and more, and she drifted off to sleep.

Klaus walked out the doors of the luggage area at Charles de Gaulle Airport. He had just arrived, he was very tired, and he just wanted to fetch a damn taxi, get to Paris, and get a nice suite at some swanky hotel.

After two minutes of waiting, he managed to get a taxi. Once he put his two suitcases in the trunk, he opened the back door, slid into the backseat, and closed the door. He then asked his driver, in fluent French, what the most luxurious hotel in Paris was.

"L'Hôtel du Louvre?", the driver suggested.

Klaus replied, "yeah, yeah, sure."

The driver then proceeded to drive him to the hotel. Klaus paid no attention to the passerby, the flashing lights or honks of cars as they passed through traffic, or even the sight of the Eiffel Tower, shining brightly in the distance. He was absorbed in his thoughts. All he could think of was getting away.

He had spent the last ten years traveling across North America, searching. Searching for her. Caroline Forbes, the vampire who had managed to, taking a page from Jane Austen, bewitch him body and soul. "I fancy you" had turned into, as hard as it was for Klaus to admit, "I love you". So when Caroline had disappeared from Mystic Falls, Klaus couldn't help but search for her. He passed by her house and noticed her car was missing from the driveway. He knew that not only was she broke, but that her mom wouldn't let her go abroad unless it was an emergency or was really important, and so he concluded that Caroline had driven someplace on the continent. He asked Elena, the Salvatores, Bonnie, everyone who knew her if they had any clue of her whereabouts, but the answer was all the same: "I have no idea." So he left his family and everyone in Mystic Falls. He went everywhere, from the bustling New York City to the emptiness of Montana, from the fiery hell that was Mexico to the icy winter wonderland of Canada. He asked every vampire he came across, filed missing person reports to every police department, but they never could find her. The more he searched, the more desperate and unstable he became. He turned into a ripper, mindlessly feeding on poor innocent victims, trying to drown his sorrows and frustration with rage and bloodlust. And so for the past ten years, his daily routine was: wake up, search desperately for Caroline, drown his sorrows in some fine whiskey, gin, or whatever, find some poor tramps or bastards to hunt down, and then crash at whatever swanky hotel or mansion he managed to come upon. Rinse and repeat.

However, Klaus couldn't take it anymore. He had an eternity to live, he wasn't about to punish himself by searching for a girl, the girl he loved, that obviously couldn't be found. He convinced himself that he had to get away, and so, one night, opened his laptop, browsed through some travel site and clicked on some random link to whatever popped up.

Paris, France.

How funny, Klaus thought. He remembered the ball that he and his family threw and how lovely Caroline looked, exuberant and full of light, as she walked through the crowd towards him. How ravishing she was, how he somehow kept his composure as they waltzed and talked, how he showed Caroline his art. How they had their first real conversation, talking about traveling the world, be it to Rome, Tokyo… or Paris…

Regardless, he bought a first-class plane ticket, and left on the first flight the next day.

And so here he was. Paris, the most romantic city in the world. And he wasn't with Caroline, the one woman he wanted to be here with the most.

Well, Klaus, this is one hell of a choice you made. What better way to get over her than to go to the very city you wanted to visit with her? Why didn't you go to Bangkok, where you could drown your sorrows in booze and the company of endless prostitutes? Or, I don't know, someplace that doesn't totally remind you of her? You dumb, idiotic twat.

"We are here," the taxi driver says with his heavily accented English, snapping Klaus out of his mental conversation with himself.

He mumbled a curt "merci" to the driver, gave him a few euro bills, stepped out of the taxi, got his luggage out of the trunk, and watched as the taxi drove away. He stood in front of the hotel, looking around. He saw plenty of shops, each one turning off its lights and closing its doors. A block down, he saw the Louvre, one of his favorite art museums in the world. Perhaps I could go there tomorrow, he thought. He turned around to see the Hôtel du Louvre towering over him in its glory, with "Hotel du Louvre" printed in gold above the entrance. He walked into the lobby, painted a beautiful golden crème color and its floor carpeted in lush red carpet. After taking in the sight for a few seconds, he proceeded to the front desk and asked for their most expensive suite. The blonde woman, decked in a red suit and white blouse, smiled warmly at him, handing him a gold keycard to the room. He thanked her, and then followed the concierge who carted around his luggage into the elevator, watching as the doors slowly came to a close.

When they opened again, they had arrived at the top floor. They turned right and the concierge escorted him to the suite at the end of the hall, dropping off his suitcases. Noticing a nearby supply closet, Klaus called out to the concierge, who was starting to walk away. The moment he turned back, Klaus sped to him and bit into his neck, draining his body of every last drop of warm, delicious blood. Luckily for Klaus, the guy was in too much shock to even manage a scream, and so he died silently. Content, Klaus dragged his corpse into the supply closet and shut the door.

A delightful surprise for the help, he thought.

He then took his keycard, stuck it into the lock, waited until a small green light flashed and beeped, and opened the door. He carried in his luggage and then closed the door. Klaus didn't even bother to take in the splendor of the suite, the white walls, the beautiful art hanging on them, the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, or the beautiful antique furniture. The only thing he took notice of was the king-sized bed, supported by a Victorian-style golden bedframe, as he walked towards it, falling back onto the lush and velvety red comforter. He kicked off his shiny black leather shoes and got under the covers, not even bothering to take off his blue dress shirt, his black slacks, or his socks.

Maybe, he thought, maybe, despite being in the most romantic city in the world, maybe I can finally get a move on with my life. Maybe I can finally get over her.

And with that, Klaus's eyes fluttered for a second and then he let sleep overtake him.