Hello All!

This story is actually already posted in the Vampire Diaries forum, but as it's primarily set in New Orleans, I'm posting it here also so that fans of The Originals can read it too :) It's mostly a Klaus and Caroline story, but all of the character's from The Originals will appear.

Hope you like!

Klaus clenched his teeth so tightly he heard his jaw crack. Which was nothing really; when you compared it to the destruction his hands were doing to his beautiful 17th century, intricately carved red-wood desk, as he gripped the edge of it in an attempt to keep his temper in check.

'Yes Elijah,' he growled quietly and dangerously, 'I am fully aware of what the ware-girl needs. As it would happen however, her maternity needs are not the top of my priority list at the moment. What with the witches breathing down my neck; and of course the fact that they would like me to single-handedly take down Marcel... But of course, where are my manners, what exactly is it that Hayley needs that is more important than all that?'

There was silence on the line as his eldest and wisest brother held his tongue.

'That's right brother. Nothing. Tell the ware-bitch to stop attempting to make demands of me. I made it quite clear what the terms of this pregnancy would be.' He snarled; frustrated to high heaven with this whole godforsaken situation.

'Niklaus-' Elijah tried; ever trying to be the honourable gentleman. Klaus already had his finger over the end call button.

'Tell her,' Klaus sneered, 'that it is the witches who are, very unfortunately, in control of this situation. For now. And that they will be the one's tending to the baby and to her needs.'

He clicked the call off before his brother even had the chance to draw the breath he would need to respond.

He leaned back in his chair, frowning at the splintered surface of his once grandiose desk. What a shame it would be to have to replace it. It had been the centrepiece of his large, high-ceilinged studio apartment which overlooked Jackson Square. The desk had belonged to a beautiful and dangerous witch he'd killed when he'd been here a century ago; coming home and finding it still under the dust sheets all these years later had felt pleasantly nostalgic. And now here it was in ruins; much like everything else in his life at the moment.

His mood was dark; as it had been almost consistently since he'd stepped foot back in New Orleans.

The French Quarter was no longer the home he remembered it to be. It was Marcel's now; this place of beauty that Klaus and his family had found, and finally after so many years, been able to call home. Marcel had taken it and made it ugly. Oh the magic and the allure of New Orleans remained, as did the culture, the exceptional music and art, the food, the people, the exoticness and the beautiful darkness that could all only be found here.

But Marcel was running this place like a concentration camp. The wolves were gone; exiled, and the witches were cowed, unable to practice magic; and that was not how Klaus remembered the French Quarter. This was a place that used to be alive with the smell of magic and blood and the supernatural...

Klaus sighed and ran his hands through his messy blonde hair. His body hummed with tension. He wanted to kill something. He wanted to kill lots of things. But the witches held him in their power; controlling his every move while Hayley and his child were in their hands. And that made him want to kill them.

He had argued with Elijah that they should just destroy the witches; rip them apart and make them suffer for ever thinking they could to step up to the Originals and live. He'd said that they should remove the coven from the equation, and then hide Hayley away somewhere until Klaus' heir was born.

Elijah wouldn't hear about it however; blathering on and on about how Klaus had made a promise to the witches that he couldn't go back on, and that the life of Hayley and the unborn child were more important than Klaus' petty need for revenge on anyone who challenged him. After much discussion and near physical fighting, his eldest brother had eventually persuaded him that getting rid of Marcel was in Klaus' benefit also. That he could have everything that he'd ever wanted, that he could be King.

Klaus had gone along with this, in theory, so far, but the second the witches pushed him too far they were dead. Elijah be damned.

He sighed again, taking unnecessary breaths to calm himself down. He eyed the damaged desk again; half tempted to take out his anger on it and finish the job. It was ruined anyway.

He was blaming all of this on Elijah because he didn't want to think about the real reason he had stayed his hand with the witches. The truth was; the existence of this child niggled at him; creating a conscience within him that he'd never had, nor wanted before.

He wanted nothing more than to destroy the witches and Marcel and anyone else who ever tried to control him. But if he stood against the witches, they had already made it very clear what would happen to the child. And although Klaus wasn't prepared to even think about the child and how it made him feel... Its existence had stopped him from snapping Sophie Daveraux's spine on more than one occasion so far.

Klaus squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't thought it was possible for a hybrid to get a headache, but he felt like his head was going to explode; thinking endlessly about this situation was driving him crazy. He needed out; he needed air.

With one last mournful look at his once beautiful desk, he strode out of the apartment.

He stalked along St. Ann Street, his whole demeanour screaming darkness and danger. The corner of St Ann and Bourbon Street was teaming with tourists; surrounding the pop up stalls and buskers. They all moved out of his way. Whether they were aware of it or not; the humans could sense the beast in him; and the crowds moved for him as he strode across the road and into the first bar he came across.

He signalled for a drink and wasn't disappointed when a glass of bourbon was placed in front of him. He drank it in less than a second, and signalled for another. The barman, a tall, muscular man the colour of chocolate, read the signs and dropped the bottle and a fresh glass in front of Klaus without so much as a second glance.

At least this place seemed to have good service; he'd been on the hunt for a new bar for weeks. His favourite bar, and the one he would have gone to tonight if he could have; happened to be the only bar in New Orleans that he had to go out of his way to avoid. He enjoyed the bartender there Camille; she had frequently brought him his favourite scotch without him needing to tell her what he liked; and then she would sit with him and discuss art and music and keep him preoccupied from the current state of his life.

But it also happened to be Sophie's workplace too. She had threatened him one night in the alley behind the bar, as he was leaving. She'd been warning him to stay away from Camille; he'd been so close to snapping her witchy neck and drinking her dry he could taste it.

He had raged at Elijah about the insult and threatened the coven with retribution even though he hadn't really had any power considering they still had his baby and Hayley locked up inside their mausoleum. Sophie had however, been dissuaded by the other witches from baiting Klaus outside of their agreement involving the child and Marcel. Since then she'd just shot him numerous hateful glares across the bar; so Klaus had decided to drink elsewhere. He was absolutely exhausted of trying to be somewhere he wasn't wanted. Mystic Falls had been torture enough. He didn't even want to start thinking about that; Mystic Falls was a whole other festering wound he had to deal with at some point.

'Should I be offended that you found another bartender?'

He raised his eyebrows and looked over to the barstool to the left of him. It was occupied by Camille. He was furious with himself; he knew Camille and he knew her scent. But he'd been so preoccupied that he'd failed to notice her sit right next to him. He needed to think of a way to start clearing his head of all these problems he was dealing with; because he couldn't afford to start getting sloppy.

Camille seemed to sense that he was in no mood to joke around. She raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't say anything, going back to her drink. That's why he liked her; she knew when to talk and when to stay silent. But then he guessed she would have to have her wits about her; living in a town that was ran by vampires.

He decided not to take out his foul mood on her. Besides, she was usually so very good at taking his mind off of things.

'You are not the reason I left your bar.' He replied; with just a hint of his usual smirk.

'I know,' she said, smiling at him. 'There's a reason we keep Sophie in the back... She just doesn't have the necessary skills for customer service.' There was mischief in her eyes so he knew she was joking. She didn't know that Sophie was a witch; and he knew that the two girls were friends.

'Yes, that's one way to put it.' Klaus agreed, emptying the contents of his cup and closing his eyes as he felt the burn travel down his throat.

He opened his eyes again and saw that Camille was looking right at him, a question in her eyes. He averted his gaze; unhappy with the idea of being scrutinized.

'Has Miss Deveraux driven you away too?' he asked quickly, adding a teasing lilt to his voice and shooting her one of his best dimply smiles to distract her from whatever she'd been about to ask him.

She laughed. Her laugh was pleasant; it lit up her face. 'No, no.' She insisted, smiling. 'It's my night off.' She explained, gesturing to her glass of wine on the bar in front of her.

He eyed the cheap looking wine with a teasing look of distain. 'They let you order that here? I was under the impression it was bourbon or get the hell out...'

She rolled her eyes, playful as ever. She really was a brilliant distraction. 'I'll have you know that this is vintage. I have connections.' She tilted her head towards the muscular bartender.

He was about to laugh with her. But then she smiled and shook her lovely blonde hair in a way that for a second, she looked just like her. Like Caroline.

He felt the smile fall from his face. And he saw that Camille saw it too. She looked concerned, like it had been something she'd said. He interrupted before she had to say anything.

'Not you love,' He smirked, but he knew that it was a poor attempt at false cheer, 'I was just thinking of something else.'

'You mean someone else?' she asked. She was looking right at him, smiling; her face honest and open. There was no agenda behind her eyes; just friendly curiosity. The only problem he had with his new bartended friend was that she was so bloody perceptive.

Psych major, he thought to himself wryly.

'There isn't enough bourbon on Bourbon Street for that story love.' He murmured, chucking more alcohol down his throat.

'Yep, I know that feeling.' She nodded, her eyes still alight with her smile. Oh she was a little too much like Caroline; it pained him. Too much inner light; he should have known there had to be a reason behind him becoming so quickly fond of a mere human. 'She must be incredibly special, to have caught the eye of someone like you.'

He blinked, and narrowed his eyes just slightly. The way she'd said that set off warning bells.

'What makes you say that sweetheart?' he clutched his glass slightly too tightly. He could feel the glass straining in his hand. Either she was slightly fonder of him than he was of her... or she knew.

'Well I'm not blind, sweetheart.' She said, mocking him jokingly. 'I know you're a pretty big deal around here. You have Marcel's boys all on edge.'

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. So she did know what was going on in the French Quarter. She knew how dangerous he was, and yet...

'If you are aware of 'what a big deal' I am; why would you take the risk in talking to me love?' he asked, smirking as he took a swig from his depleting supply of bourbon from the bottle.

'Jane Anne was my friend.' She answered quietly, her smile disappearing for the first time that night. She looked him straight in the eye. He had indeed been right when he's told Marcel that Camille had to be either very brave or very dumb.

'Careful.' He hissed, eyeing the people surrounding them in the bar. It was busy; and loud. A Friday night in the French Quarter was never a quiet night; so they couldn't really be overheard. But Klaus could sense other vamps in the bar; and any one of them could be reporting back to Marcel.

'And I like talking to you,' she replied breezily, her face all smiles again as she took a drink from her wine glass. 'You seem very complex; a psych major's dream!' She winked at him as she changed the subject.

'You don't know the half of it.' He muttered, still reeling from her insinuation that she was on his side against Marcel.

'And I'm sure I never will.' She murmured back, her cheeks flushed prettily from the wine. She stood up and shrugged her jacket over her shoulders. 'But I will enjoy trying to find out.' She smiled again. She had dimples like him.

'I'm going to head out. There's somewhere I need to be.' She offered no explanation as she reached for her glass and emptied its contents into her mouth. 'You should call that girl. You look like you miss her.' And then she left him. Somebody else immediately took her seat.

He turned away, back to the bar. Call Caroline? That was never going to happen.

They were both immortal; he knew that eventually she was going to find out about Hayley and the baby. But he would keep the secret for as long as he possibly could. If he could keep the child secret from the world until it was of age to be presented as his heir... he could have at least eighteen years. That would be eighteen years for her to think on how she wanted him, how she missed him and how she wanted to let him give her everything. Eighteen years for her to realise what a pathetic shit Tyler Lockwood really is. Eighteen years for him to miss her as much as he misses her now. And then when she found out about the child... and the Hayley thing... well, if he knew Caroline, even if she never wanted to see him again, she would still come to New Orleans and find him so that she could yell at him to tell him so. At least he would get to see her again.

He upended the bottle and drained the contents. Slapping some cash down on the bar, he slipped out of his seat and out of the bar.

The air is warm and close, as it always is in Louisiana, but it gets the smell of the bar out of his nose. All things considered; he felt like he and Caroline had finally left things in a good place after her graduation. He had promised her that he would wait for her, and he'd been telling her the truth. He'd just omitted the part where eventually she might find out something about him that would keep her away from him, even if she did ever decide she wanted him to be her last love. Well, she had Tyler for now, so it would probably be a lot of years before she even thought about Klaus again. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

He made his way back to his apartment; the alcohol he'd consumed had only slightly taken the edge off his frustration; and the delightful distraction of Camille had somehow been tarnished slightly by the fact that she knew everything. She was probably ready to support that dreadful Deveraux bitch on the whole thing; for all he knew, Camille knew that Sophie was keeping his unborn child as a hostage. His fists clenched angrily again. His trip to the bar had been almost one hundred percent unsuccessful at alleviating his anger.

His phone was bleeping with unheard messages when he got back. He was beyond tempted to just ignore it. He tried; he cleared his desk and moved the broken hunk of wood out into the hall to be collected for garbage, and he went back into his kitchen and warmed himself a blood bag.

The witches had forbidden him to drink from people; just another thing he was furious with his brother for agreeing to on his behalf. Elijah would do or say anything to ensure the safety of this child and he thoroughly expected Klaus to do the same.

Upon the announcement that he could no longer drink fresh blood Klaus had explained very carefully to his dear brother that the second the child was removed from Hayley, the witches would be the very first humans that he feasted upon. Elijah had grimaced; but hadn't voiced much disagreement; for he too was being forced to drink from blood bags. Although his brother of course preferred pouring the blood into a glass, rather than using the uncouth juice-box method like Klaus. Klaus made sure to slurp loudly from his blood bag deliberately when his brother came over to the apartment to give him a status update on the foetus.

When he'd ran out of things to distract himself from the bleeping of the answer phone he ventured over, blood bag in hand, and pressed the button to hear his messages.

The first message was from Elijah.

Niklaus we must talk about Hayley. I am aware you'd rather not have this conversation; but the witches are keeping her in an environment that can only be described as a cave. I know you do not have fond feelings for the girl; but she is carrying your child Niklaus, and my niece or nephew. We will be negotiating with the witches about moving Hayley to a location which better suits her condition. I suggest you locate a place that is suitable for you; as I know anything I pick you will have issue with. I will visit in the morning and we will discuss. Good Night brother.

Klaus rolled his eyes; trust Elijah to take on a pregnant woman that wasn't even his problem. Although he had to admit, with Elijah there doing all the fawning over Hayley's 'condition', it meant Klaus had received fewer texts from Hayley demanding saltine crackers and anti nausea wrist bands; whatever the bloody hell they were.

The second message was from Marcel; it made Klaus' blood boil.

Niklauuuus, you simply must join us over at the plantation tomorrow night. I'm throwing a huge party to officially welcome you back to New Orleans. I know it's a little late, but what can I say, you introduce yourself to my boys with your teeth, they need a few weeks before they can throw you that parade man. All is good and right in the quarter now and we will finally welcome the Master back to his rightful home! I'll call you tomorrow. Don't you go missing a party thrown in your honour now! Bonne nuit mon ami!

He could feel that headache coming back. He took an angry slurp of his blood just as the third message began.

Klaus?

His eyes widened in surprise. Caroline.

I- I'm not sure if this is even the right number for you... Rebekah gave me it and she... she's not at her most helpful at the moment.

She sounded upset; he could hear the tears in her voice. His throat tightened and his trembling grip on the blood bad caused it to overspill across his fingers.

I wasn't going to call... I know you're starting a new life out there but-

He hears her voice break as she gives in to the tears. His heart breaks. All he wants to do is get on the next flight to Virginia. It takes everything he has to stand there and listen to the rest of the message.

It's Stefan, Klaus. He's not right; I think- I think that Silas...

She sobs; there are tears in his own eyes. He never could handle her pain; and he's never heard her sound so destroyed.

And Bonnie... Bonnie's dead.

There's almost a full minute of near silence in the message as she cries on his answer phone.

I need your help Klaus; you're the only person I can ask.

That warmed his dead heart slightly; that she still thought of him when she needed help. That she would ask him over Tyler; who was surely back in Mystic Falls by now.

I'm at the airport now; I'm coming to New Orleans. I'll be there in the morning. I- Please help me Klaus. Please. I'll see you soon.

Klaus drops his blood bag and the lukewarm blood spatters all over his feet.

'Oh bloody hell!' he cursed.