Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

A/N: This scene was sooo awesome I just had to write something about it . I don't really ship Klaus/Cami (because, well, KLAROLINE :D) but I still hope you enjoy!

He spots her in the midst of the New Orleans's crowd, admiring a painting. He frowns in surprise – it has been long since he's last seen a person, any person lay their eyes on a painting, on a piece of art and let themselves delve into it. Sure, he has often had people tell him how amazing his own artwork is and how much they admire it. But those people are people who don't really appreciate art. It is as if they are looking at an iceberg only seeing the ice above sea-level. Ignoring the rest; neglecting the part that matters. Their glances are sparks, but they are so, so far away from lighting an actual fire that at the end of the day their sparks don't really matter. The girl before him, however, seems to have a different perspective of things; which is why he approaches her.

"The hundred dollar guy!" she greets him with a smile.

Klaus nods. "The brave bartender" and looking down at her nametag adds "Camille. It's a French name."

"It's a grandma's name," Camille rolls her eyes and sighs. "Call me Cami."

Klaus grins, flashbacks popping up inside his hand. "Please... Call me Klaus." If there is one person on this planet who can relate to someone hating their name, then he is was certain it has to be him. He spent a great deal of those one thousand years he's lived on this planet correcting anyone who called him Niklaus for the simple reason that Niklaus (scared, foolish, human Niklaus) is another man. If he thinks about it, Niklaus can't even be considered a man; he is just a silly little boy. He cannot afford thinking about that now though. It is a matter that has long since been settled, and he has made sure that he'd locked his past shadow up in the deepest confines of his heart, hoping that nobody would ever find him (but even now there are times when he has to drag him out and those are the times when he feels even lonelier than he did before).

"Amazing, isn't he?" Cami's words provide a distraction to his miserable thoughts, and he latches onto them gratefully, asking her whether she paints. It wouldn't surprise him if she does. "No," she laughs when he phrases the question "but I admire. Every artist has a story, you know."

If he hadn't already been paying attention to her, this would have been the point when he would have decided she was someone worth listening to. He thinks that maybe she'll understand. Maybe if she hears his story, he'll see some of the compassion he has been searching for, for so unbearably long, in her eyes. He wishes he could tell her. Then again, he's just met her; and he wouldn't want her to turn away from him. He wouldn't want to be called a monster again. "What do you reckon his story is?" he asks. It takes her some time to answer the question.

"He's... angry. Dark. He feels unsafe and he doesn't really know what to do about it," Klaus bites his lip and looks at the ground. He wants her to stop but at the same time, he wants more than anything to hear what she has to say. "He wishes he could control his demons instead of having his demons control him." Klaus feels tears forming in his eyes and has to work hard to keep them from falling. Demons; his demons that wear Mikeal's face and anger and taunt and hurt him until he ends up letting his pent-up frustration take control of him. The demons that lead him down a path in which the only destination he will reach is ending up alone again. The worst part is that he follows the same path every time even though he knows perfectly well how much it will hurt him.

"He's lost," Cami continues. Is that sorrow in her voice? He hopes it is (because a part of him wants her sorrow, her sympathy and her compassion). "He's alone." Klaus has to look away from her to stop himself from breaking, his breathing shallow and his heart clenching and unclenching. He shouldn't let himself lose grip of his emotions so easily but right now he simply can't help it. Trying to get himself together he glances back at her. "Or maybe he just drank too much tonight," she grins as if nothing happened. If only she knew how much she's affected him. But she doesn't, and deep inside he tells himself that it is going to stay like that, and that he will not turn her life upside down because he wants someone to feel sorry for him (not because he cares for her well-being but because he is too proud to ever do anything along those lines). "Sorry." She's still smiling. "Overzealous psyche-major."

"No," he mutters "I think you were probably right the first time."

They stand in silence for a few, short moments before he takes leave, knowing that he will probably end up drunk, at a hotel, with a pretty brunette girl who reminds him of Tatia (or Katherine or even Elena; it's really the same face) at his side who won't make it past the night. He will make her tell him she loves him when he spreads her legs, when he takes her simply because he can.

He will convince himself that she cares when she screams his name, and when he rips her pretty little heart out he will do it because his own heart aches so bad; and maybe the correct way to stop it from hurting is to hurt someone else (it's how he has always acted and he doesn't feel ready to change that – he never will). Then he'll be alone again, and soon enough he'll find another pretty girl maybe blonde this time, so he can think of Caroline or of Rebekah. He might even spare her.

He's in one of those tiny streets filled with shops that will open up in the morning when, between the voices of the crowd he hears her speak up once more. "So do you-?" she stops, then adds in confusion, when she realizes he has left "...paint?"

I hope you guys enjoyed :) If you reviewed it would be greatly appreciated!