Hello Dearies,

Happy Valentine's Day! :)

It's been quite a while, I know... :) First of all, I'd like to apologize to and thank all of those who've reviewed my other stories over this past year, who've sent me PMs and who've just been so lovely. I'm really sorry for the radio silence, but these 12 months have been my busiest to date. I've finished the first rough draft of my first novel, but it'll still take me ages to make it remotely presentable. And as the bloody thing is currently driving me nuts, I had to step away from it for a few days and do something else - well, and this is the meager result. ;)

The Parisian Deal is just a tiny five-shot I hadn't even planned to upload in the first place, but as today is Valentine's, I thought I'd do it anyway; I hope you guys might like it a little.

Rated M for the last chapter, which is still in the works. As a side note, I haven't watched TVD Seasons 5 and 6, nor have I watched TO, so none of this is really canon.

Enjoy your Valentine's, and I hope you all have a wonderful day! :)

Much love,

Sybille

Until this day, Caroline Forbes had not known that some variations of light could be worse than darkness. This cold, white neon light bathing the linoleum floors in a sterile glow certainly was.

She had never paid much attention to the lighting before, or to the floors that reflected the sallow, depressing illumination. Why would she. They remained entirely oblivious to the woes of those dozens of pairs of feet trampling their way through the hospital's corridors. The hospital that for weeks had borne witness to Liz Forbes' slow, pain-filled decay.

For the hundredth time that day, Caroline cursed everything and everyone. The treacherous illness that had silently spread its deadly tentacles within her mother's body. The doctors incapable of finding a miracle cure. Her own helplessness in the face of Liz's ordeal. And in her weakest, most vulnerable moments... she cursed Liz for not allowing her vampire daughter to save her life. A remote part of her understood her mother's refusal as she had come to understand her father's unwillingness to live as a creature he profoundly hated, but rationality was not her forte these days, especially since her broken heart was complemented by ever-growing bouts of terminal fear over losing the last true anchor of stability in her life. How was she supposed to carry on when... no. All would be well. They would cure Liz. They would find a way to fight back the illness. They...

"Miss Forbes?"

Her head jerked up at the sound of Dr. Sapperstein's familiar, reassuring voice. She hadn't heard the physician approach and was a little taken aback by his appearance out of thin air, and even more so by the warmth and compassion that filled his eyes.

No. Please. No. God, if you exist, now's the moment to let me know. I need you. Please!

"Doctor?" Her own voice sounded hollow to her. "Is my Mom...?"

He held out a hand, and when she rose and took it, he covered her hand with his. "You're a very strong young woman, Miss Forbes, and you'll need that strength now. For your mother, but most of all, for yourself." He paused, and Caroline felt everything inside her come to a halt. "There's nothing more we can do for her. Her body no longer responds to any form of treatment, and as of this morning, her vital organs have begun to fail. I can't say exactly how much time she has left, but you'll want to say your goodbyes, and you'll want to say them now. I'm so sorry," he added, patting her hand.

A layer of ice closed around her heart as she stared into Dr. Sapperstein's gentle features. Why was he looking at her like that? Her Mom wasn't dying, he had it all backwards! She was improving, she was coming back to life, and he had just misinterpreted the signs! Oh, she would sue the hell out of him, she would make sure he lost his license! Sorry, was he? He would soon be sorry that he had ever set foot in medical school!

Caroline's jaw set as she called herself to order. Figuratively stomping her feet like a child would not change the inevitable, and blaming a doctor who, from day one, had done everything in his power to ease Liz's lot was among the more idiotic thoughts she had entertained as of late. So she squeezed his hand, gave a brittle smile and nodded.

"Thank you, doctor. Is she... is she in any pain?"

"No. We had to significantly increase her morphine dose to keep the pain at bay, but it thankfully did work out well." Biting her lip and wishing she could just scream and howl, Caroline turned to make her way to her mother's room when Dr. Sapperstein asked, "Is there anyone you can call? A friend, a relative?"

Her smile was bitter as she realized how the first person she thought of was still Elena, but it lost some of its acidity when Elena's face was fast replaced by Stefan's. "Yeah, I have someone I can call. But I'll do it later. I don't want to waste what little time I've left."

"Do it now," he said. "You know, sometimes grief gets the better of us, and we no longer remember what the right thing is to do. That's when we need our friends around, and that's why you should make this call now that you can still think clearly."

I haven't been thinking clearly in weeks. What difference will a few more hours make? A few more... minutes?

"Thanks, doctor. I'll keep it in mind."

"You look like you've just come straight from the spa," Caroline attempted a feeble joke when she sat down at Liz's bedside, desperately trying not to betray her horror at how her Mom seemed to have deteriorated since the morning. The number of tubes, needles and other medical equipment had multiplied, and an oxygen mask hid most of Liz's waxen face. The wafts of disinfectant and medication billowing through the room like invisible fog did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. Where Caroline had never liked hospitals, she had lately grown to loathe them, and she knew that from this day onward, she would never set foot in a clinic again without the cold shudders that gripped even her impermeable vampire system.

As she took Liz's cool hand and squeezed it with caution, she cringed inwardly at her mother's failed attempt to press her hand in return. The frailty in the woman who had been so in command of herself, fearlessly facing human and supernatural trespassers every day, came as a massive shock in spite of weeks of mental preparation. Then their eyes met, and Caroline nearly dropped Liz's hand. It was as if a harbinger of death had already taken possession of her mother's gaze; it bore an expression of knowing detachment, mixed with tenebrous clouds of nothingness. No matter how used Caroline had become to seeing death in its many variations, the violent albeit fast endings of those falling prey to her kind were nothing compared to watching a loved one slowly perish from a fatal illness, observing how the light in her eyes faded a little more with each passing minute, how her body began to take measures to shut down and her spirit seemed to wane into oblivion.

"Take... off... this mask," Liz's barely audible whisper broke into her somber thoughts, making Caroline shake her head.

"You need to breathe. It'll be harder without the mask."

The tender smile on her mother's withering features broke another piece off her fractured heart. "Can't you... just once... do as you're told?"

"You should know me better than that," Caroline murmured while removing the oxygen mask with infinite care. "Only for a couple of minutes, okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Liz countered. Her smile faltered as she sucked in much-needed air, a herculean effort by the sound and look of it. "Sweetie, we don't have much time. So just... listen to me, okay?"

"Okay." Clearing her throat and trying to get rid of the thick lump in her throat, Caroline edged closer and gripped her Mom's hand more firmly. Liz blinked several times before she took a deep, rattling breath.

"I want to... apologize to you." When Caroline opened her mouth to speak, her mother shook her head. "There are many mistakes... I made as... a mother, and I'm afraid... they were too many to count. But the biggest... of them all was that I... never put you before my job... my problems... my convictions. I should have, and I didn't. Neither... did your father. What that taught you... what we taught you... is that you're not valuable enough... to be put... ahead of everything . But you are, sweetie. More than anyone... else out there."

Caroline didn't find the fortitude to suppress her tears. They flowed down her cheeks in tiny rivers, trickling onto the bed cloth. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into her mother's arms and let herself be comforted, have Liz assure her that all would be well, that there would be many more picnics... and that she would always be at her daughter's side. It was this very moment that made Caroline understand a simple fact. Underneath her undeniable capability to weather even the greatest of supernatural storms, she was not yet ready to say goodbye to the thin line that grounded her to her human roots. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to her childhood.

"Mom, I..."

"Still my turn. There's... something else, too. I've always... underestimated your strength, Caroline. So does everyone else. I know I... should say that you'll... never need anyone but yourself... but that would be a lie. We all need... people who understand... and see us for who... we really are. You do, too. But unlike most others... you're strong enough... to endure times when you... don't have anyone like that around. Those times... will come. But you'll... still carry on..."

Liz's eyes widened as she failed to draw breath. Within less than a second, Caroline had replaced the oxygen mask; her fingers shook violently as she felt her mother breathe again, although more flatly than before. After a few more breaths, Liz tried to lift her arm to reach the mask, giving another weak smile when Caroline removed it once again.

"What I... am saying... is that there's nothing... you can't do. Or be. I love you... so much... and I'll never... worry about you. You'll... find your way, even... when there are... bumps in the road. Because you're... my beautiful, strong Caroline."

It was more than she could bear. With a strangled sob, Caroline wrapped her arms around her Mom's fragile frame, rested her head against Liz's shoulder and began to cry in earnest. "I love you, Mom. I love you like crazy." She cried even harder when she felt her mother's hand feebly stroke her arm. They lay like that for minutes, and with every labored breath, with every rattle in Liz's throat, Caroline's despair rose. She held on to her Mom like a shipwrecked person held on to the last piece of wood floating on the churning ocean, unable to let go.

"Sweetie... your life's... waiting. Go... find... it... and..."

There was a quiet choking sound, and Liz's hand dropped from her arm. Caroline jolted out of her stupor and rose in a blur. Her mother's eyes were glassy, staring unseeingly into the void. Her arm dangled from the bed... and she was no longer breathing.

From one second to the next, Caroline's insides froze solid. The room, the sunlight streaming in from the windows, even Liz's lifeless frame - everything became grey and silent and meaningless.

At the very same instant, the alarm on the cardiac monitor went off with a series of loud beeps.

But when a throng of doctors and nurses burst into the room, Caroline was long gone.

"Don't do this. Not all by yourself."

She had expected him to find her sooner or later, even here, in the depths of the forest. It was the one place where she usually found some peace; she had always liked it here, but today, the trees had lost their color, the light breeze felt like razor-sharp knives cutting her skin, and the birds' chirping sounded like nails on a chalkboard. So did Stefan's voice.

"No offense, Stefan, but I really want to be alone, okay?" she managed to mutter with her remainders of civility. After leaving the hospital, she had dashed off in no particular direction, and with every step, every leap she took, the paralysis inside her had crumbled and given way to an invasion of agony the likes of which she had not believed possible. A remote portion of her brain knew she was teetering on the verge of implosion, and she needed to be alone when it happened.

"I do take offense. I'm your friend, I've been at your side for weeks, and I certainly won't let you go through this on your own."

Her voice quivered. "Thanks, but no thanks. I just need some peace, Stefan. I can handle this."

"No, you can't. No-one can handle the loss of a loved one all by themselves, not even you." He inched closer and held out his hand. "Caroline."

Before she knew it, she found herself in his arms - and all hell broke loose. The dams inside her burst, and a tidal wave of red-hot pain flooded her every fiber. She remained stock-still, frozen in sorrow and crippled by fear, unable to accept the comfort Stefan was offering. And bit by bit, her agony magnified. Crying and shouting could have provided relief from what haunted her, but she didn't have the energy to go there, although somewhere deep inside she understood that what she was doing to herself made matters worse. Much worse. Every tear she didn't shed felt like a drop of poison that infected her system, every sob she didn't give in to was a hook that drove despair and fear deeper into her soul. She was trapped in this prison of growing grief and loneliness. The strength everyone always kept going on about... Caroline felt none of it, on the contrary. She felt weak, isolated, abandoned, and at the complete mercy of her inner hell.

You were wrong, Mom! So wrong! I can't do this without you. I have to know you're there, and I... I just can't! Mom, this hurts so bad!

Summoning her every remaining ounce of power, she placed her hands flat on Stefan's chest and shoved him away. He flew backwards a few yards before slamming into a tree trunk and landing on his feet. Caroline felt the veins underneath her eyes protrude and her fangs descend as she glowered at him with a scowl as black as the future that lay ahead of her.

"I said I want to be alone! Go away, Stefan, or I swear I'll make you!"

"Be my guest," he said, his voice kind, his eyes filled with understanding. But he didn't understand. He had no idea of how this cursed, goddamned day had turned her world into a gigantic pile of shambles that could never be patched back together. He didn't know that the pain ate her up from the inside and would continue to do so until nothing was left of her.

And that was the precise moment the thought began to blossom in her mind, small at first, but inflating with every passing second until ultimately filling up her entire being. There was a way to handle this. To escape all the grief and sorrow until she found the fortitude to look it straight in the face. To escape herself and everyone else who would be beyond disappointed in her current lack of everything.

Stefan came towards her at a measured pace, hands lifted to signalize he wouldn't touch her. She turned to look at him with sudden composure, straightening to her full height and remaining immobile as he approached.

I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me!

An instant later, Stefan's eyes narrowed before he tore them wide open. "No!" he shouted, "No, Caroline!"

He was too late.

Peace and quiet floated through her, covering the bleeding open wounds, despair and raw fear like a soft, soothing balm.

It was heaven. It no longer even mattered that it was heaven.

The last thing Caroline saw before flashing off at full vampire speed was the incredulous horror in her best friend's eyes.

Then again, who cared?

Stefan was gazing at his phone with intense concentration when he heard the door. His conversation had been short, but it had brought the best piece of news he'd received in a year.

"Nothing," Damon said instead of a greeting when he strolled into the room, his leather jacket drenched from the pouring rain outside; it made Stefan wonder whether his brother had run all the way from the Chesapeake. "Dead end, bro. That friend of yours needs to get her witch license renewed; whatever she saw, it wasn't Blondie. I talked to every vamp in the area, but apart from one dingbat claiming he saw the ghost of a unicorn galloping along the beaches, they're all..."

"I think I found her," Stefan interrupted, handing Damon the glass he had filled with scotch during his brother's rant. Giving a groan, Damon slumped into a chair and ran a hand through his disheveled, damp mop of hair.

"That's what you said last time. And the time before. And the time before that."

Without a word, he handed Damon his phone, watching as his brother examined the picture. It had been taken from a distance, was fuzzy and barely lit, but there could be no doubt who the blonde with the bloodstained face was.

"Looks like Blondie's giving you some competition," Damon muttered with a raised brow while zooming in for more details. Then he looked up. "Who'd you get that from, and where was it taken?"

"Remember Amaury?"

"That slumlord you were buddies with during World War II?"

Stefan couldn't help a grin. "Hey, he just wanted law and order in his territory."

"He called me a disgrace to the name of vampire and basically chased me all over the continent after I had just settled down for the first time in decades!"

"You stole his ladylove right from under his nose. What did you expect? He's French."

Damon rolled his eyes and chuckled. "He could've taken it a little more sportingly. I haven't set foot in good old Paris since then. Is that where the picture was taken?"

"Yeah. He knows almost every vamp in Europe, so I asked him a couple of months ago to keep his eyes and ears open for any signs of Caroline, just in case... et voilà. He apparently had his people on the lookout, and one of them finally spotted her while out on the hunt."

"So we're off to France, then. Can I at least change before we leave?"

Refilling his own glass, and Damon's, the younger Salvatore pressed his lips into a thin line and walked over to the grand windows. The skies had darkened with an even thicker layer of clouds that sent veritable cascades of rain down to Earth. In spite of the good news, the weather mirrored his mood to uncanny perfection. He had spent most of the past year searching for Caroline, and to his surprise, Damon had dropped everything to join his quest. So had Elena in the beginning, until they had jointly decided that she was to return to college and continue her studies for the time being. She still helped them on weekends and college breaks, of course, but something had changed in the dynamics of the manifold relationships in Mystic Falls, and it had not failed to leave its mark on them all. Bonnie had been long gone, Tyler was... well, Tyler, and even Matt... Their unbreakable circle no longer was what it had been, and more than once, Stefan had asked himself whether it was time for them all to truly move on. Find a new beginning. He and Damon were closer than they had been even in their human days, something Stefan was immensely grateful for. Yet for a long while now, he had felt an irresistible longing for new horizons; he wanted to rediscover who he was outside of all the Mystic Falls commotion, and he wanted to give Damon and Elena some space to do the same. But ahead of any life-changing decisions, they needed to find a means to bring Caroline back from the dark place she had chosen a year ago. A dark place all of them knew only too well.

He took a sip of his scotch. "I'm not sure there's anything the two of us can do for her."

Crossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, Damon creased his forehead. "Are you drunk? Stef, we spent the better part of this past year combing the lands for Blondie, and now that we finally have a clue to her whereabouts, you want to ditch the entire operation? Sorry, but methinks my intellect can't grasp the concept."

Stefan heaved a sigh. "I've been thinking about this for a while now. Look, even if we do find her, then what? We take turns trying to talk sense into her? A year has gone by and she still," he pointed at the phone, "hasn't turned it back on. There's little I can think of that you and I, or even Elena, could say or do to convince her. No-one knows better than the two of us just how hard it is to summon the guts to turn it back on and face the music."

The older Salvatore gave his brother a probing glance. "No argument there. But I know you better than that, bro. You're not planning on giving up. So what's the deal?"

"Giving up is not an option. But we need help. Talking her into it won't work - so we'll have to make her."

"Yeah, right," Damon scoffed, "and how exactly? By grounding her? Forbidding her from watching whatever the French equivalent of the Kardashians is? Sorry, dear brother mine, but short of torture I'm afraid we don't have much leverage."

The smile on Stefan's features was hesitant and even a little tense.

"Exactly. But there's someone who does."

"Niklaus! Watch out!"

Elijah's voice came from somewhere behind him at the very instant he felt the impact of the magic that smashed him into the heavy iron gate guarding St. Louis Cemetery. The little witch's powers had undoubtedly increased as of late, he mused as he rose to his feet with an inarticulate grunt, bracing for Davina's next onslaught of magic. Once more he was slammed against the iron bars, and once more, he stood within the blink of an eye. A vicious smirk curled his lips as he opened his arms and bowed to the witch.

"By all means, do carry on. I have no further plans for the evening." His sneer widened when a flicker of insecurity crossed Davina's eyes. "Listen well, witch. I have demonstrated more than my share of patience with you since my arrival in this town. I have tolerated your pathetic little rebellions, your conspiracies, your digging up and fraternizing with my every last enemy. I'm all for a good war between my kind and yours, but I do believe you should attempt to acquaint yourself with the fact that..."

Another bout of magic threatened to blast him off his feet, but this time, he felt it before it hit and managed to steel himself against the impact, thus remaining glued to the spot.

"... you won't be the last one standing, Davina," he completed his sentence, satisfied at seeing the witch's eyes widen. When he was just about to take a step forward, the girl was suddenly no longer alone. A mob of witches and warlocks flocked into the graveyard from three different sides, lining up behind Davina. Klaus saw eyes close, arms rise, lips mutter those arcane words that came from no human language. Elijah materialized at his side, scanning Davina's ranks with an expert eye before he turned his attention to his younger brother. A brief, wordless conversation ensued, at which end the siblings nodded at each other, charged - and slammed into a transparent wall that surrounded the group of witches and warlocks.

For several minutes, they attempted to penetrate the invisible barrier from all sides, trying to find a weaker spot or an opening but coming up empty. The protective wall was rock-solid. Without hurry, Klaus returned to his earlier spot near the entrance, followed by his brother who brushed nonexistent dust from the lapels of his exquisite suit. When their eyes met Davina's, a grin spread on the girl's face.

"Now what, Klaus? You can't get in, but our magic can definitely get out!" And to her high-pitched screech, a dozen pairs of hands rose into the air.

"Move," Klaus called to Elijah, "do not give them a target!"

The unequal fight waged back and forth for a long while. Both Mikaelson brothers remained in continuous motion, dashing all over the place while the witches and warlocks did what they could to curb their powers, inflict pain on them or quite simply render them unconscious. Yet as unable as Klaus and Elijah were to make it past the barrier, Davina and her troops found themselves equally incapable of mustering strength and power enough to cause serious damage. After some time, Klaus observed first signs of beginning exhaustion in the weaker witches. Many spells no longer reached beyond the barrier as their concentration faltered halfway through the incantation, and one or two of the women even dropped to their knees from sheer exertion.

"Davina," he said while taking a leisurely jump from the top of a tomb to a gravestone, "here's the thing. Elijah and I can do this for the remainder of eternity. Unlike you, we will never tire, we do not have to eat, drink or sleep, and endless supplies of blood fresh from the tap can be found right behind us on Claiborne." He smiled when another witch tumbled and fell. "Not even your powers can hold up this wall forever. You, too, will tire, and your magic with you."

Elijah, who had just flashed past him, tsked and shook his head. "It is one of the many curses of witchcraft that regardless of your undeniable powers, your dependence on human needs will be your downfall. Such a disadvantage in the merciless world of the supernatural, would you not agree?"

"Brother," Klaus scolded with an impish snicker, "are you not supposed to be the family diplomat? You are frightening the ladies... and the underrepresented gentlemen."

They grinned when they darted past each other, evading another spell. "Of course, Niklaus. Pray forgive me, Davina - we are doing all this for no other purpose than not being otherwise engaged on a Friday night. Do not mind us and just go ahead."

Silence descended upon the cemetery when Davina straightened and turned to look at her allies, signaling for them to stop just as Klaus and Elijah came to a halt in front of her, separated only by the magic barrier. "I can keep this wall in place for as long as I have to," the witch said, acid in her voice, "don't you worry about that."

"I hate to break it to you," Klaus retorted, "but you'll die eventually. So will all of them." He made a gesture that encompassed the congregation of witches. "Of dehydration, starvation and other pleasant mortal afflictions. But since I have no plans to spend the next few weeks on this graveyard, bored to death - no pun intended - and since I am also a firm believer in compromise, how about this. We will allow you to leave unharmed and in one piece in exchange for one tiny piece of information."

"I don't believe you," the witch shot back. "The instant I drop the spell, you'll kill us without a second thought. Thanks, but I think I'll pass." Approving murmurs sounded from the group that was huddling together behind Davina.

"Your doubt is hurtful," Klaus smirked. "Your life will end, that much is certain, and judging from your unhappy choice of sides in the past, it will not be long before it does. But not tonight."

"We honor a given word. When we vouch not to lay a hand on you or any of your... colleagues here, we will not do so," Elijah added in the calm, level tone he always employed when he got down to business. Although a great many centuries ago, he had explained to Klaus that it was never the words, but the wordless message that tipped the scales in one direction or the other during a negotiation, something Klaus had found confirmed time and again.

Davina folded her arms across her chest. "Your word, Elijah, I trust - to a point. His," she jerked her chin at Klaus, "not in a million years."

"Well, then our quandary should be easily solved. I give you my personal word of honor that neither Klaus nor I will harm you and your friends tonight if you agree to provide us with the information we require."

Biting her lip, the witch gazed back and forth between the siblings before looking over her shoulder. "Go," she said, "all of you. I'll keep them from following you until you're out of sight. Leave now!" Nobody moved at first. When Davina repeated her command, the first two witches began to retreat, their eyes never leaving Klaus and Elijah; a second later, they broke into a run and disappeared between the tombstones, headed for the hidden little exit in the eastern mural, as Klaus assumed. With hurried steps, the remaining witches and warlocks left the scene, supporting those too weak to walk and not looking back. He wasn't interested in any of them. They were pawns, regular witches with no exceptional abilities and of no relevance to the outcome of all this; he wondered for a moment what had possessed Davina to orchestrate this amateurish attack.

Deflection. She knew this would lead nowhere. Something is cooking.

He fished his phone from his jacket pocket. "Marcel. Take a few men and raid all known witch spots in and around the city. Send someone out to the wolves as well." He paused to listen. "No. I'll explain later; just let me know if you see or hear anything outside of the usual let's-all-kill-Klaus brouhaha." No sooner had he ended the call and stowed his phone than Davina planted herself in front of him.

"What do you want to know?"

"It is quite simple. I want you to tell me where my dear mother is hiding, and whose body she inhabits this time. Oh, and while you're at it, you might want to disclose my brother Finn's whereabouts as well."

An array of emotions danced over the witch's face. Klaus had to remind himself of the girl's youth - she had not yet learned to omit her reactions when an arrow hit its mark. "How do you know about Esther and Finn?" she demanded, the shock still imprinted on her features.

"I didn't. You just told me, and I want to thank you for that." Out of the corner of his eye, Klaus saw Elijah stifle a smile. "You have, however, not answered my question, witch. Where are they? Your joint plan to cut the ties between me and my line and kill me in the process is admirable in its splendid theory, yet as it ever so often happens with theories, they are hard to put into practice. But I am digressing. Lead us to our... family, and you shall not be harmed tonight or anytime soon - unless, of course, you raise a hand against me or my siblings. And may I add that you will want to reconsider your association with my mother. After a thousand years of experience in the field, I can safely say that no good ever comes of it."

Davina didn't manage to reply as both brothers' heads jerked up simultaneously.

Vampires. Right behind.

Klaus was about to take care of the unwanted intrusion when a well-known voice resounded from the iron gate.

"Seriously, buddy, you need to get a grip on those mommy issues of yours."

He didn't turn around or take his watchful eyes off Davina as he muttered to Elijah, "How is it that whenever you reach the conclusion that the day couldn't possibly get any worse, something like this happens?"

"Law of nature," his brother shrugged. "But first things first."

"Indeed." Klaus cast a sideways glance at the Salvatores who were coming up beside him, both eyeing Davina with curiosity. "Stefan, Damon. Allow me to conclude my business before I morph into the gracious host you know me to be."

Damon folded his arms and gave a lopsided grin. "Sure. It's always educational to watch the master at his day job."

With a huff of impatience, Klaus returned his attention to the witch. "As I was saying before my good mood was ultimately ruined, the choice is yours. Name my mother's hiding place, and you'll walk away from here without a bruise."

"And if I don't?"

"Then a bruise will be the least of your worries. You are young, Davina, and you are still learning, so here is a piece of advice. Never give up on your reinforcements out of sheer altruistic reasons." When she looked at him and said nothing, he added, "Those who could have helped you keep up the barrier ad infinitum are gone. You are on your own. But these are not the Middle Ages, you may argue, and you carry a mobile phone to help you commandeer more friends. Very true. Only that each and every single witch or warlock who sets foot on the premises will die before their other foot touches the ground."

Realization flared up in the girl's eyes, followed by a flash of anger at herself that made Klaus give her a genuine smile. He would never admit it to anyone, but he did like the witch. She was spirited, powerful, courageous, and she would be a force to reckon with, one day, when she had learned to no longer make decisions based on sentiment. He would try to avoid killing her, if at all possible, for something in her rebellious, indomitable nature reminded him of a woman of similar spirits. A woman he had long since banned to the depths of his memories but who would never leave his soul for good. A woman whose painfully beautiful image had rushed to the forefront of his mind the second Damon Salvatore had opened his mouth.

"What is it going to be, Davina?" Elijah demanded when the silence stretched on for several minutes. "As you can see, we do have guests to entertain, and it would be impolite to keep them waiting much longer.

The witch inhaled deeply before she spoke in a slow, defeated rhythm. "I can't tell you where your mother and brother are hiding. They haven't told me. We never met in person, we only ever talked over the phone, that's all."

"Whose bodies are they using?"

"How would I know?" Davina shot back. "I have no idea what they're supposed to look like, so even if I had seen them, I couldn't say if they're using someone else's bodies."

Both Mikaelsons chuckled. "Good point," Klaus conceded. "When are you scheduled to meet them in the flesh?"

Another silence ensued. "Three days from now."

"Where?"

"The woods near Old Bay River."

He stared at the young witch for a few seconds before a broad smile curved his lips upwards. "Very well. You may go." Everyone looked at him in surprise as he pointed at the gate. "You told me what I need to know, and I am a man of my word." Davina hesitated, then glanced at Elijah who nodded and moved to the side, clearing her path to the exit. After a few more heartbeats, the girl seemed to decide she had not much to lose and began to walk, her eyes on Klaus. None of the vampires moved so much as a toe while the witch made her way out. As soon as she was behind the mural, she broke into a run.

"Elijah," Klaus merely said. His brother nodded and disappeared at full Original speed without producing a sound.

"You know she was lying," Damon pointed out as his gaze wandered back from the gate to meet Klaus'. The latter rolled his eyes.

"A little more confidence in me, if you will. How would I miss something that even you managed to grasp without my having to spell it out to you?"

"If memory serves..."

"Klaus, we really need to talk to you," Stefan interrupted the exchange of pleasantries, "is there somewhere a little more private?" The younger Salvatore's tone was stern; not that this was news, but it was clear that those two wouldn't have sought him out if matters weren't of some gravity. Giving in to his curiosity, he nodded.

"Follow me."

Minutes later, the three of them were comfortably settled in Klaus' elegantly furbished salon, drinks in hand. It occurred to him that they should sound praise for their vampire heritage; the alcohol consumption between the three of them alone would have served to give the entire population of the Quarter fatal liver failure.

"You know that I am always here to help," he began sardonically as they raised their glasses. "So what is it this time? Werewolf bites? Hunter troubles? Do tell Uncle Original your woes."

The Salvatores exchanged a glance before Stefan spoke up, uttering two words that managed to hit home more thoroughly than any news of his mother ever could. "It's Caroline."

"I am listening." Hundreds of years of training kept his voice straight and his face neutral, but it grew harder the more he heard of Stefan's story. How Sheriff Forbes had taken ill and died, how Caroline had been so grief-stricken she had seen no other way to cope than by turning off her humanity, how she had run away from Mystic Falls, and how it had taken the Salvatores a year to find the first trace of her. With every word, Klaus felt his wrath rise... and himself ache for her a little more. It was an alien sensation, and it didn't serve to soothe the emotional thunderstorm that tossed his mind and soul around like a loose autumn leaf. When Stefan fell silent, Klaus rose and began to pace the room, breathing with slow deliberation to keep himself from tearing out his visitors' hearts.

"This happened one year ago?" he demanded. When both Salvatores nodded in unison, he whirled around. His voice was deceptively soft. "And you come to me now? You did not think of, oh, I don't know, notifying me the day this happened?"

"We thought we'd find her faster," Stefan admitted. "And we weren't sure whether her fate was still... of interest to you."

Of interest.

"You could have found out with one phone call."

Stefan took a sip of his drink. "Yeah. In hindsight, we probably should have. On a more positive note, she's alive and well." He produced a phone from his jacket and handed it to Klaus who took it with the blackest of scowls, still fighting the urge to crucify the Salvatore brothers heads down in his backyard. A couple of crosses were quickly crafted. But all thoughts and all anger vanished when his eyes fell on the grainy picture displayed on Stefan's mobile.

He found his memories hard to reconcile with the photograph that seemed to show a different woman. Her face was partly covered in blood, her silken blond strands clotted with red, and her face was... empty, devoid of emotion, of glow, of the light that had always shone from deep within her soul and that had drawn him in like a magnet time and again. For some reason, he felt cold. Caroline without her humanity was nothing short of a sacrilege; she had never truly understood the almost unbearable beauty she represented to him, inside and out. His artist's eyes could feast on her for days on end, but it was the pure, unadulterated fire of life inside her that made his pulse drum and quieted his perpetual unrest at the same time. What he had said to her on the day of her graduation had been the full truth - he intended to be her last love, someday, somehow, somewhere. She had accepted his words, but she had believed them as little as she had wanted them at the time. Then had come the infamous encounter in the woods. That first wild sex that had served no other purpose than to quell a need they had both suppressed for far too long. Had they left it at that and parted ways, things might have been different, for him and for her. Only that one deeply satisfying, magnificent fuck had led to another and another, until they had slowly morphed from having sex into making love. Caroline had shed every last ounce of pretense and been her beautiful, exuberant self, filled with laughter, passion... and tenderness. Her touch remained engraved in him to this day, and it had been that soft, erotic, lingering, tender touch that had told him what not even Caroline herself had as yet understood - that part of her believed in his words as thoroughly as he did. Not even the unrelenting force with which he had suppressed all memories of her since then had kept his determination from fortifying with each passing day: he would be her last love as she already was his. Next week, next month, in a thousand years.

Which made this new development all the more worrisome.

"Where is she?" he demanded from Stefan as he returned the phone.

"Paris."

Rome... Paris... Tokyo?

"Who did you get this from?"

"An old friend. His name is Amaury..."

"De Lascasse? Amaury de Lascasse?" the Original interrupted with a frown.

"The very same. You know him? Is he of your line?"

Reassuming his seat and downing his drink, Klaus said, "I do know him well. Three guesses who first made him Lord of Paris," he added while refilling his glass and pushing the bottle across the table to Damon. "He's of Elijah's line, though. Long story which I might share at some other time. I assume you have instructed him to keep his distance and leave her unharmed?"

Damon scoffed. "Hey, we're regular vamps, man, and he's a wee bit older, aka stronger. Ordering him around doesn't seem like the greatest of ideas."

Something in the older Salvatore's tone made him grin. "May I deduce that you're not to be counted among his numerous friends?"

"Conflict of interest," Damon retorted with a wink.

Dropping against the backrest of his chair, Klaus sighed. "Be that as it may, you have come to ask something of me. What is it?"

The second Caroline's name had come up, his mind had begun to scheme, yet he wanted to find out how they planned to persuade her to turn her humanity back on. He was enough of a realist to know that neither the Salvatores' preaching nor his pretty face would suffice, and singing her serenades in the pink Parisian lights was not prone to help, either. Not that he would make that much of a fool of himself. His gaze fell on Stefan who shifted uncomfortably in his seat while playing with the whisky tumbler, and just as Klaus began to wonder about Damon's conspicuous silence, the younger Salvatore finally spoke.

"You're the only one with the power to make her turn it back on. You, or one of your siblings. But I thought you might prefer to handle this yourself."

The old wooden grandfather clock on the far end of the salon ticked in its ancient rhythm. Birds sang outside, street noises trickled into the room, and yet the silence was thick and complete. In slow motion, Klaus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at Stefan who returned his gaze without wavering. "You are asking me to compel her, Stefan?"

"Yes."

"The answer is no."

Surprise spread on both Salvatores' features; they exchanged a glance before Damon said cautiously, "I don't get it. Just a minute ago, you nearly tear off our heads for not telling you about Caroline earlier, and now you don't want to help her?"

"And you claim to be her friends, but without even considering other options, your sole proposition to solve this dilemma is compulsion." It piqued him. Stefan and Damon knew Caroline well enough to be aware that compulsion didn't sit well with her. She had never told him so in too many words, yet even he who had spent much less time in her company than either of those two knew of Caroline's deep-seated abhorrence, although he remained ignorant of its roots.

Stefan opened his hands. "You've been around for a while, Klaus. What other possibilities are there? We're not Originals, and talking a vampire into turning his humanity off or back on is impossible if the vamp in question won't cooperate. One way or the other - will you help us or not?"

Closing his eyes for a moment, Klaus thought of all those big and small problems he was currently facing in New Orleans. The new looming threat his mother represented. Finn, who could be counted on to side with Esther and should never be underestimated. Marcel, who was lurking in the shadows of feigned friendship and obedience, waiting for an opportunity to strike and recover what he considered his. Elijah, whom he had only just found again after so many centuries of lingering rifts and misunderstandings. There was no way in hell he could leave the Quarter at a time like this. And there was even less of a way in hell that he would not put Caroline ahead of everything else. Within the blink of an eye, his phone was at his ear.

"Elijah. Did you follow her?"

"Yes. She returned straight to her apartment and hasn't emerged since, but she has phoned an eclectic number of people, among them our brother dear. It was his voice without a doubt, hence it is well possible that they returned in their own bodies. What is your plan?"

"I have to leave town for a while."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I will call you later and explain. For now, this is what I need you to do. You will have around-the-clock surveillance on Davina and every witch in the Quarter and the bayous. She said her next meeting with Esther is to take place in three days, which leads me to believe it will happen within twenty-four hours maximum. Do we know whether Rebekah is in the country?"

"Yes. She called me from Boston this morning."

"Phone her back and tell her to come down here at once. The Fabulous Baker Boys will stay as well." His lips twitched when both Salvatores jerked up and shook their heads in perfect synchronization. "Listen, brother, I trust you to handle the situation. Once you find Esther and Finn, take them down, but do not kill them. Mere death will not stop them from returning at their leisure, which is why we will need to find another solution. Take them to The Garden and lock them up until my return, Davina and everyone siding with them included."

"Niklaus, what is going on? Of course I can handle things, but would you not agree that this is a tad more important than whatever goes on in Mystic Falls?"

"Later," Klaus muttered before he added, "Thank you, Elijah."

After breaking the connection, he rose and pocketed his phone. "Was there anything else?" he said, looking at the Salvatore brothers who had also risen from their seats. Stefan took a few steps in his direction, his face as unreadable as his voice was determined.

"We're flying to Paris with you, Klaus."

He was already halfway through the doors when he turned and pursed his lips as he scrutinized the siblings that had given him so much grief during his time in Mystic Falls. Neither of them was his enemy any longer, a development that still baffled him somehow, but he would face Caroline alone, and if that involved snapping Stefan's and Damon's necks, so be it. "You will both stay here and help my brother, particularly given that you would have nothing to contribute but the innovative idea of compulsion."

"And of course Big Bad has a much better suggestion," Damon scoffed. "Would you mind sharing this new pearl of your endless wisdom?"

A broad grin spread on Klaus' face as he tilted his head to one side. "I am old-fashioned, Damon. I work with time-proven methods." He winked. "Extortion and barter."