To everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited the first chapter of this story, thank you so much. I haven't written anything in years and your feedback has been very encouraging to say the least.

The name of this fic is taken from All I Want by Kodaline by the way, and it is a song that I highly reccommend to anyone.

As episodes air, I am trying my best to keep this story as canon compliant as possible, but also as vague as possible.

So here is chapter two:

It's a long drive, and with only the radio for company, a lonely one, filled with doubt. It's only when she actually drives past the city limits in the early morning light of the next day that she realises she has no clue how to find him. Or even what she plans on doing if and when she does. She really didn't think this through when she left Mystic Falls and already she's feeling foolish. What did she really hope to achieve by coming here?

Elena had looked at her in the Grill like she wanted to say something. Like she suspected the reason for her sudden interest in Damon. Because Elena was awesome sometimes, however, she didn't and Caroline didn't think she had ever loved her friend more. She really couldn't put any of this into words until she understood it herself and she didn't think she could do that until she saw Klaus. She just had to find him first.

She'd heard some mention of the French Quarter during Elijah's flying visit. She didn't know too much about its relevance, but it was all she had to go on. Calling Stefan, she managed to get the names of a few bars in the area that he and Damon used to frequent, though not without some confusion on his part, and suspicion.

"Do you need any company down there?" he asked, without even knowing why she was there. She was immediately filled with affection for him, he truly was a great friend to her.

"No, I'm fine," she lied, "I was just going crazy at home and felt like an adventure, get out of dodge and all that."

"Why New Orleans though? Thought you'd want to stay as far away from Klaus as possible."

He's fishing, she knows, but he won't push. She knows him well enough to know that.

"That's not what this is about, I just have a lot on my mind, went for a drive and ended up here." It's kind of the truth. A little bit. If she squints and no one compels her. "But now that I'm here, I think I'll stay for a few days. Get out of this funk."

She knows he doesn't believe her. She loves Stefan.

"Okay. As long as you're okay. I'll see you when you get back," he says.

"Talk to you soon."

She's about to hang up when she hears him speak her name, she puts the phone back to her ear and listens.

"Try The Bourbon Room."

He says nothing else.

"Thanks, Stefan," she says, heavy with meaning.

She can tell he's nodding, but he doesn't speak and she hangs up.

The Bourbon Room. Right. She can do this.

She stops the next person she sees and asks for directions.

She grabs a room in a small hotel a couple of streets over. She spends more time pacing up and down her room than any sane person should before grabbing a shower and heading out into the city to explore. Might as well make the most of this insanity and see some of the world. She stubbornly refuses to allow his words from forever ago echo in her mind as she does.

She falls in love with the city immediately. It is so full of colour and history and characters that it is impossible not to. Sticking to the main tourist areas and attractions, she visits St Louis Cathedral, and the French Market before settling for people watching in a little cafe near Jackson Square. She feels invigoarated here. The city is bustling, busy and exciting. She's not being watched by town gossips, or dealing with supernatural drama. There are no nasty reminders of Tyler. There is a buzz in the air and she feels remarkably at home.

She spends a crazy amount of time getting ready back in her hotel. She fusses with her hair and puts on so much mascara she can barely open her eyes, but she is nervous, and being obsessive compulsive about her appearance is apparently how she deals with nerves these days. Later, when she walks into the bar, she can immediately see the appeal of the place for a man like him. There is a classy, old world charm to the place. It has character. Soft jazz music plays in the background, and she remembers him talking passionately about the '20's. She pictures girls in flapper dresses and ruby red lipstick and men in tuxedoes. He was right, she would have loved it.

A quick scan of the bar as she walks through the room tells her that he isn't there. She fights the disappointment that threatens in the pit of her stomach and tells herself it's still early. She sits at the bar and orders a bourbon, neat. It feels appropriate.

After an hour, she's only had two drinks and is feeling more foolish than ever for coming down here and just expecting to find him. She tells herself she'll have one more before calling it a night and forgetting this bout of temporary insanity.

Twenty minutes later, she's draining her glass and standing up from her barstool, grabbing her bag and turning around when she's greeted with a familiar voice.

"Hello, love."

She finishes turning and is met with the sight of him standing in front of her, a black coat, white, open collared shirt and trademark necklace. He looks like sin personified. It was always safe to say that attraction would never have been an issue for them.

He's smiling at her in that way that's half genuine and half smirk, like he's laughing at some private joke.

"Hi," is just about all she manages to get out, her voice breathier than she would have liked.

"Going somewhere?" he asks, a full blown smirk this time.

She steels herself before answering, not even sure until the words come out of her mouth what she plans on saying.

"I was getting bored," she goes with, as if she visits this bar every day.

He gestures at the bar stool she just vacated, and she turns back and retakes her seat. He joins her, his face not showing any shock or even surprise.

"What brings you to New Orleans, Caroline?"

"If you're going to ask tough questions I'm going to need a drink."

He smirks.

"Well I know champagne is our thing," he gestures to the barman before he continues, "but this isn't really a champagne kind of a bar, so maybe you'll accept another bourbon instead?"

She smiles. Regardless of anything else, he was always quite charming.

The barman places two glasses in front of them and when Klaus nods, he simply places the bottle in front of them and walks away.

"I take it the staff here aren't on vervain?" she muses.

"I honestly don't know," he smiles sardonically, "yet strangely I've never had to pay for a drink here."

She rolls her eyes and they sit in silence as they take the first sips of their drinks. He openly stares at her and she feels compelled to fidget under such scrutiny but manages to restrain herself. She doesn't want to appear any more eager or nervous than she already has.

"You look good," he tells her finally, "college life agrees with you."

"Thank you," she replies. She can tell the compliment is genuine.

"What are you studying?" he asks, though she is sure Elijah has probably told him.

"History, music, art history. I saw your painting. The one in the Hermitage."

The smirk is slow to form this time, she can tell he is relishing the information he has just received. She's given too much away, she realises.

"Did you now? I didn't really think they would cover Russian galleries ahead of the French and Italian masters in your freshman year. But then it's been a few hundred years, maybe college has changed."

"We had an assignment. I studied the Hermitage. Don't read more into it."

He laughs and god, but something loosens in her chest at it. She hadn't realised how much she enjoyed his teasing.

"I wouldn't dream of it, love."

She changes tack.

"I saw Elijah last month. He was in Mystic Falls for a few days."

His face clouds over.

"Ah yes, my dear brother. Let's not spoil the happy surprise of you being here by talking about that."

"What's going on here, Klaus?" she pushes.

"I have a long history in New Orleans, Caroline. I'll tell you about it some day, perhaps. But for tonight suffice to say some old enemies are looking to make life difficult for me."

She nods.

"You're safe though? You're not going to be killed any time soon?"

His gaze softens when he looks at her this time.

"Careful, sweetheart. Anyone would think that you care."

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not able to say the words out loud. She's here. Shouldn't that tell him enough?

"Klaus..."

"Relax. I won't make you say something you can't. I'm glad you're here."

It should scare her, how well he reads her. It did once, when he could look at her and know the shameful things she kept from her friends. When he could look at her and know in an instant how to get past her defenses.

"Why didn't you say goodbye?" she asks, finally. After six months of wondering, she has finally asked the question.

"Why are you in New Orleans?" he replies.

"That's not an answer."

He smiles wistfully at her and repeats words that feel like they were said in another lifetime.

"Perhaps one day, in a year, or even a century..."

The words startle her. That's not why she's here.

"I'm only here for tonight," she says instead of being so blunt. She's getting tired of seeing hurt in his eyes over her.

"So why come at all?"

"I don't know," she all but whispers. "I don't know why I'm here."

He smiles that secret smile he has, the one that she knows means he knows something she doesn't, and she dreads to think what must be going through his head.

"Have you ever been to the French Quarter?" he asks, clearly dropping the subject for now. She's grateful.

"No," she shakes her head, "I told you, I've never really been anywhere."

She empties her glass as he stands up.

"I seem to remember promising to show you the world. We'll start with one of its greatest cities."

He holds out his hand to her, his eyes showing a glimmer of hope and a touch of a challenge. He's daring her once again to take a chance on him. She reaches up and takes his hand, follows him out into the night.

Three hours later and Caroline has been shown the hidden side of the French Quarter, the side the tourists don't see. Klaus has proven himself to be an excellent tour guide, and a perfect gentleman. She's frustrated by both facts. She came here to get him out of her system, instead she finds him charming, funny, intelligent and is intrigued by him in a million new ways. He tells her about his past in the city, about how he helped build it. He takes her to a bar playing Zydeco music, which she loves. They go down dark, non descript alleyways to show her old buildings, and interesting stores filled with colourful bric-a-brack. In one such store, she falls in love with an antique music box. It plays a sweet melody, when opened, and she stares, mesmerized by the tiny ballerina spinning around.

Seeing the price, she smiles ruefully and puts it back, not saying a word. Klaus is standing behind her, staring at her as she stares at the music box. Equally as fascinated. She should feel uncomfortable, she tells herself, but instead she just smiles. She's never had someone pay her this intense level of attention before, and she likes it.

"It's beautiful," she says, indicating the box, saying it to break the moment, more than anything.

"Let me buy it for you. A memento of your first city on a long list."

She blushes and looks down.

"Thank you, but I can't. You've given me far too many expensive gifts already."

He smirks.

"If I remember correctly, you returned one rather forcefully, so I don't think that counts."

She blushes. She wonders at how rude to him she used to be. It was justified, she knows, but she still can't reconcile their previous relationship with this moment, standing in a cramped antique store, in the middle of the night, enjoying his attention, seeking it out even.

"We should get going. It's nearly midnight. I'm sure this lady needs to shut up shop at some point."

Klaus rolls his eyes but concedes and leads her back out onto the street.

"This city comes alive at night time, Caroline. Many shops will stay open half the night. This town was built by vampires, after all."

She turns to him in the alley, still so fascinated by his history with, and obvious love for, New Orleans.

"I want to see more. Take me to your favourite place?"

He takes it for what it is, she knows. She isn't just asking to see more of New Orleans, but more of him. She's giving him an in. Getting to know him.