Where the Wild Things Are

Catheryne

Summary: Set 2 years after Graduation. The next time Klaus saw Caroline she was in New Orleans on the arm of his sworn enemy.

AN: Please please leave feedback.

Part 1

CAROLINE

How apt, she thought to herself, as a clap of lightning and the rumbling thunder welcomed her. They were the first sounds she heard the moment that the door to the long black limousine opened. The downpour of rain greeted her, as if the heavens wept for or blessed—she really could not decide—her arrival to Vieux Carre.

Caroline glanced back to the shadowed vehicle, to the figure that sat there waiting for her to get off. Without another word to him, she turned and stepped into the water puddle quickly gathering on the street. She cringed. So much for her gray suede boots. The weather app on her phone was headed for deletion.

Then again, she thought idly, as the drizzle became a steady torrent, this rain was perfect for spring.

Caroline stood face up under the night storm, her lips drawing to a small, thin smile. She breathed in the scent. Call her crazy, but something was truly quite fragrant about water hitting cement.

Like the welcome that it was, the rain let up within moments. The street vendors that threw up large umbrellas to brave the water for the love of the festival just as easily folded up the overhead covering and tourists and visitors emerged from the various restaurants and bars where they had taken shelter.

Rain or shine.

The walk from the street through the parking lot was purposeful. Around her Caroline noted the few couples that had wandered from the jazz stage, where most of the people crowded together in laughter and blaring music, drunkenly stumbling through steps choreographed by a volunteer pro on the platform. Her face broke into a smile. Calculated or not, she would have to inject a little fun in her life, or else it all falls apart. It would not be hard. She loved dancing. Dancing was one of the things she truly enjoyed as Miss Mystic Falls.

She was definitely more coordinated than the drunken girls laughingly falling all over their partners.

She needed to be. No one was going to catch her tonight if she fell.

Caroline drew nearer and nearer until she was part of the audience, and she listened intently to the steps described up on the platfor. Watching the demonstration, Caroline moved her head to the rhythm of the music. Her fingers tapped on her thigh as she caught the beat. And then her foot, and she counted in her head.

There were men and women walking around the makeshift ballroom floor, where polished wood covered the rough cement for smoother movement. They were the pros, the volunteers. Caroline looked at each of the faces as they scanned the crowd.

And caught his eye.

The moment he saw her, she knew. She returned the gaze with a slow smile, and then she chuckled softly to herself, shook her head and glanced down. She knew she was still looking, knew it like she knew the back of her hand. Right then, Caroline glanced back up and met his eyes, then averted her gaze.

And he was making his way towards her.

When he was a few feet away, just then, Caroline grabbed the arm of the volunteer walking right by her. "Lindy hop?" she offered.

The man graciously proffered his arm. "Eight step, and then swing out," the volunteer instructed her.

Caroline felt his gaze burning at her back. She grinned up at her partner as the music kicked off. Hand in hand, Caroline and her partner nodded their head with the beat, a technique she allowed herself in fast, unfamiliar dances. At the count, Caroline moved forward into the closed position and settled into a quick embrace. The music grew faster, and couples around them started falling off the dance floor as tourists tired quite easily.

"You're quite the pro," commented her partner.

Caroline gave a bright smile. The longer she lasted, the longer the exposure. The better her luck tonight.

The man before her leaned down to her ear. "You wanna do an aerial?" he gasped, catching his breath with the steps.

"Thought you'd never ask!" Caroline laughed and hoisted herself up, helping him flip her in perfect partnering. The moment her feet touched the ground he hoisted her up again and with his toned arms flipped her over his back.

For a split second she felt like she was flying through the air, forgot for a small moment why she was there. The music ended with the band members themselves applauding her. Her partner gestured expressively towards her, blowing her kisses as she bowed and waved.

And she turned her head towards him. Once more. Made sure she saw. And he was duly impressed. Caroline nodded towards him in acknowledgment.

It was play time.

A few more dances, and every time Caroline looked towards the skyline, seeing the gleaming towers yet austere facade of the St Louis Cathedral. The ball in her throat grew, and Caroline shook herself inside trying to knock out images that rose in her head at the sight, knowing what was there, knowing what she was so desperate to find.

It was perhaps two hours later then, closer to nine than midnight, that Caroline turned on her heel to walk away from the dancing. She knew the way from which she came had a few people littering the way, so she turned a corner and used what she had observed was a less-trodden pathway.

She knew the moment the sound of a twig snapping behind her, that it was intentional. Surely someone that Klaus mentored had more finesse than to make such a trite noise. But she was supposed to be a tourist. So she gasped. And whirled around. And widened her eyes.

After the measured glances, after the come-hither she had learned from all the movies she had seen, after pretending to be as beautiful as those sketches of herself she had received once upon a time-

There he was.

Marcel.

The tall, dark man grinned at her, his legs splayed quite far apart in an overly relaxed manner, two pieces of a branch twirling on either hand. "I know your secret," he drawled, taunting. And he whispered into her ear, "I hear every breath you take, little girl. I hear the hearts beating all around me. Do you know what I hear from you?"

Caroline froze. She shook her head. "I don't know what you mean."

Marcel thoughtfully cocked his head, regarding her from head to toe. "Are you seriously going to be play dumb with me?"

Her eyes widened. She whispered, "What do you hear?"

And then, he told her, "I hear nothing."

Caroline closed her eyes. "You know," she said tremulously.

"Welcome to my kingdom, gorgeous," he declared.

Caroline relaxed, because it was a trigger. She had discussed this, come in to this prepared. Elijah would never have released her into the wild ignorant. And yet she knew she needed more than an acknowledgment of what she was, more than an assumption that she was not a threat. To do the job right, to make this worthwhile, she needed to be inside.

Caroline's brows furrowed, and she bit her lower lip. Marcel's easy grin faded. He had come so close to her, it was easy to slide up to him, taking care to press her body fully against him. "Don't tell anyone," she whispered, her cheek against his chest.

"Here in the French Quarter, we walk free," he told her firmly. "We take pride in what we are."

Caroline lifted her head from his chest, then looked up at him, her eyes brimming, intent, pleading. "Please."

"Running from someone?"

"I can't tell you anything." Caroline extricated herself from his arms. "Just please don't say a thing. I'll-I'll leave," she offered, knowing at least for now, she had him with the intrigue of the unknown. "I didn't come here to cause any trouble."

She noted the resolute look that came over his face. And then, Caroline spun on her heel and ran away.

One. Two.

Three, she counted in her head.

Eight.

Ten.

And exactly then, just as she had predicted, a firm hand grasped her elbow and stopped her midflight. Just as she had practiced, she said, "Just let me go."

"You're in trouble," he surmised.

"I'm in the worst kind of trouble-more trouble than you can imagine."

"Tell me."

"I don't know if even you can deal with this," she told him. "I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

It was a dig into his ego. Just as he said, Marcel stood a little straighter, a little taller. "And I'm the king around here." His grip on her arm tightened. "And I'll be the judge of that."

"Are you sure?"

"Over here, a vampire is at the top of the food chain," he assured her. "If I say so, no one touches you."

And this. This is what Elijah could never conceive. He had wanted nothing more than safe passage for her, so she could work with him in the shadows and never need to worry about being found. But this was the enemy. This was the threat to Klaus and the obstacle to his ambition. Infiltrating never occurred to the man.

"Besides, a pretty girl like you-what kind of king am I if I don't at least attempt to save a damsel in distress? I am, after all, a boy from the Old South." And when he smiled, it was brilliant. Blinding. "I was taught to be a gentleman."

"I don't want to impose." She licked her lips. "It's really late, and I don't have a car."

He broke into a cocky grin. "Then-"

"Caroline."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "Miss Caroline, your chariot awaits."

Caroline looked out in confusion at the empty parking spaces. He grinned and whistled, then raised a hand at a passing car. To her amazement the vehicle stopped in front of them and driver alighted, tossing the key to Marcel.

"Wait!" she called to him as he strode to the driver side. "I'm getting in a car with a stranger. I don't think my mom would have approved of this."

"Call me Marcel," he tossed into air, joking, "if Your Highness is a mouthful."

KLAUS

His brain was a traitor.

His heart had been one. That was clear enough in the myriad ways that his temper flared out of his control, in the proverbial yearning it had for Mikael's approval, in the utter loathing it spewed for his mother. His heart he knew he could not trust, and Klaus liked his heart.

He enjoyed an enemy he knew.

But his brain was quite some surprise. He stood a few yards away from the painting he had put on display, along with the many dozens of paintings and art installations that lined the alleyways leading to the cathedral.

It was no snowflake. Not a landscape.

And damn, was his brain a traitor. There was a pretty girl that had stopped twice, in the two nights before, and she had stared at the work. The first two nights she was silent. Tonight she turned to him to strike up a conversation. He much preferred her silent.

"I take it you're the artist," she said.

"What gave it away?" he said with a small smile. "The fact that I have been standing guard for the last three days?"

The young woman shrugged. "You didn't look like you were guarding it." She turned back to the painting. "You know what gave you away?" Klaus did not respond, and neither did she look back to address the question to him. "I can smell the loneliness coming off you." And then she finally glanced back at him. "It's coming off of you like it's stuck to your skin."

Klaus glared at the painting, then strode forward and grabbed the edges. He looked closely at the way he had blended the gold and the silver and the yellows and the whites, in one corner, away from the blues and the purple and the black.

He turned back to the woman and she jumped back in surprise. "What do you see?"

The young woman walked forward. She motioned to the painting, then gestured over the the bright formulation of textures, of how silver layered with gold and yellow in his effort to capture memories of bright blonde hair. "This is light. This is pure and hopeful and happy. And all around you it's black as night." She looked up at him. "The light's extinguished."

Klaus stared into the young woman's eyes, the ridiculous perceptive eyes. His glare was long, but the girl did not blink for a second. And then, his gaze shifted from the young woman's face to the street. Klaus released his hold on the painting, then stepped around the girl.

There she was, that face he never dared to paint again, the form he could not bear to think of.

And like he called for her, Caroline turned her head towards him. Caught his gaze. Klaus strode towards her. She made no move to flee, but held his gaze for the longest time he swore he almost lost his mind. This was how she looked up at him, long and hopeful and miserable, when they stood in his porch the day of her graduation. When he said goodbye. When he knew, just knew, from the way she shone and hoped and wept and shattered, that she only needed to hear the words.

But he had held his tongue, never invited her to come. Even though he knew, because she had never been so honest or clear or transparent in the way she had looked at him.

Two years, and Klaus thought them longer than a thousand.

When he reached her side she took his hand in a tight, fierce grasp. Wordless he took her to the first shadowed corner he found, and it was she that pushed him back against the wall. His arms were full of her when she latched onto him with her mouth. And then she was pulling him with her, deeper into the alley.

"Caroline," he gasped, "what are you doing here?"

She grabbed his arms and clung to his neck. And then she reached up and smoothed the lines of confusion from his forehead. "Don't think. Don't ask," she pleaded with him. Caroline glanced out back towards the alleyway, and Klaus wondered at the brief touch of fear in her eyes. Yet she thrust her hips towards him and she fumbled for the buttons of her top, releasing them and baring to him the creamy flesh of her breasts as they rose from the cups of her bra.

In the darkness Klaus caught her up by her waist and swung them so that it was Caroline pressed back against the wall. She raised her legs around his hips. He held onto her ass. In the darkness she was a speck of light, his spot of brightness. And heaven knew he had been in the dark since the day he walked away from that porch.

In the darkness of that alley, like in his life, there was only her to see, to feel, to smell.

To taste.

His hand slipped between them. Klaus' fingertips teased over the moist, warm panties. He pressed, and her head fell back, hitting the brick wall behind her. Her lips parted and she released a whimper. He pushed aside the underwear and thrust his finger inside of her wet channel. Her fingernails gripped tight on his back. When he slipped another finger inside her she cried out, and Klaus slanted his mouth over hers to muffle the sound.

Caroline clung to his neck with one arm and reached for the zipper of his pants with the other. She pushed down insistently, rubbing herself on his front. When she freed him, she grasped her length and guided him to her. She moved over him, throwing her head back and he could feel her stretching to accommodate as he filled her.

Klaus rested his head on her shoulder as he pushed inside her again and again, and for every thrust she met him.

"I wanted you," he gasped into her shoulder blade. "I never knew how much until right now."

She turned to him, and he raised his head to look at him. She looked like she would say something, respond, assure him. But she shook her head and remained silent, only cupped his face and moved up and down, her lips parted as she breathed through her mouth. She tried to swallow as her throat closed. Klaus thrust stronger and harder inside her. She leaned down and bit gently on his earlobe, then pressed an openmouthed kiss on his cheek as she came.

He pumped inside her, and Klaus almost groaned at the slicker, smoother ride after she had her release. "Don't hold back. Harder," she urged him. She widened her legs, tightened her grip in his, grasped his buttocks as she guided him deeper. "Let go, Klaus." And then her voice dropped. Closer to a whisper, as his movements became erratic, and her body tightened even more all over him, she cried out, "Remember I love you. Always just you." He came, and she showered kisses over his face, his tightly clenched eyelids, his cheeks. Klaus pumped inside her and spilled, and she hold him tight, allowing herself to melt all over him. "I never said it, and I don't think you knew."

Klaus turned his head and met her kiss with one of his own, and he frowned at the salty flavor of her tears.

He looked down at her, as she got back to her footing and Klaus reached forward to help her button her blouse. "Love-"

She gave him a brilliant smile, and then Caroline touched his stubble. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Never loved anyone like I loved you," she whispered, their little secret.

And then Klaus felt himself breaking into an idiotic smile. He leaned down and closed his eyes at the touch of their lips. When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

There he was, left standing alone in the alley. In the darkness, and the light was gone. Klaus started to walk away when a glint caught his eye. He bent down and picked up the shiny bauble from the ground and raised it up to the streaming light from the streetlamp.

He remembered the night, well into the next when he walked into home that Marcel had occupied as his own. Klaus arrived to the home not expecting the elegant affair. He spotted his brother, milling about the crowd as if he had been invited.

Perhaps he had. With his presence the last two years, and his own influence rising to rival that of Marcel's, in a fraction of the time that it took him to get power, Marcel would have been desperate to show the strength of those on his side.

Klaus walked over to Elijah, and before he could demand an answer Elijah asked, "What on earth are you doing here, Niklaus?"

"I could ask you the same thing, brother. Changed allegiances lately?"

Elijah shook his head and murmured, "I am keeping the peace, and the cool head."

The gathered crowd applauded. Klaus turned to the top step of the grand staircase. He narrowed his eyes. Marcel was ever the entertainer, and he would not have been surprised if he came down those steps while belting out an old folk song.

"Thank you for coming," Marcel said by way of greeting. He gestured to the various corners of the ballroom, mentioned the names of the prominent guests of each one. "Apart from thanking you for a wonderful season of festivities, I wish to thank you being here tonight to welcome someone I believe would become a special part of our collective lives."

Elijah glanced at Klaus. Klaus frowned and focused on that top step.

Marcel gave a lopsided half smile when she emerged, attired in what Klaus was sure were from another treasury from the old French owners of the house. Absolutely abominable, but she took his breath away.

Klaus stood straighter, his muscles coiling in tension. He watched her take his hand. Marcel gestured to her wrist, and Klaus gripped the bracelet inside his pocket.

Caroline scanned the crowd, and Klaus noticed that she had recognized Elijah because Caroline had nodded in acknowledgment at his brother's presence. And then, Klaus braced herself when Caroline's eyes met his. With a grim smile, Klaus took the bracelet from his pocket and raised it up, dangling the jewelry from his fingers.

She looked away.

tbc