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caroline forbes

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It's all at once the shortest and the longest walk back to his room. Her head is on his shoulder and her hair tickles his cheek, her fingers are intertwined and he never wants them to get there. There's something perfect about just this moment, but no matter that they're walking slowly enough, eventually they get there.

The door slides open for them and she hasn't been here since that first day, her arrival, and she's here now for reasons so entirely different - or so he hopes, a voice at the back of his mind says - not because he's the only person he knows, but because she chose to come here, to be here.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks as the door slides close behind them, and his fingers gently brush her cheek.

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Caroline smiles, and she takes his hand as she pulls herself to her feet, and she sighs. "Why, I never thought you'd ask." And she's smiling, as letting him lead but it's not formal the way it's been before, it's not stiff, it's just her hand in his and her hand on his shoulder and she's actually relaxing from her super-keyed-up-always-stressed-neurotic-control-freak mindset so that she can just stare up into his eyes, speaking only after a minute or two, her voice soft. "If you could have anything- anything, what would it be?"

And her eyes search his like there's some deeper answer there, like she'll find it and then a lot of things that don't right now will make sense again.

Klaus is just glad to look into her eyes as they dance to the piano and the fire, and it's simple and casual, and just the two of them, and there's a hint of a smile on his lips and a happiness in his eyes. This is the best dance they could have, but then she asks her question, and his gaze darkens. Not in anger, but in sorrow.

He doesn't know what he wants most, he doesn't know how much anything is truly anything, but then in the end there is only one answer that would still lead them here, to this moment. "I'd bring Finn back to life."

They haven't talked about it since the day he went and found her to find out more about it, but it is true, right then. He doesn't even think about going back to their world, because right now, in this moment, he is happy.

Her eyes soften, and she lets go of his hand, her arms slipping around his neck as they don't stop moving, but she's hugging him, her lips against his cheek and her eyes closed as she holds him tight for that one second, and she wishes - really, truly wishes that she could bring his brother back for him, that all of this could have stopped, but she just pulls back after those few moments to press a kiss to his lips, and then to step back to where she had been, to take his hand if he's still offering.

Because she doesn't have words, because she knows how it hurts, and it's all she can do, to hold him close and then nod, because she understands. She doesn't ask anything else, because what can she say, and she lets him.... not talk, or talk, or ask, or not ask, just how he chooses.

It's a surprise, an actual surprise, to suddenly be hugged. He doesn't know if he's ever been hugged quite this way before. Part of him tries to feel offended, because he doesn't want her pity, but he knows that it isn't pity, it's compassion, and it's Caroline, so he hushes that part of him, and gets over his surprise to hug her back, like it isn't a completely foreign thing to him, being hugged so genuinely. A few seconds more, and he turns his head slightly so that he's breathing against her neck, smelling the smell that is just her because there's no perfume for her to put on, here, and he kisses her neck softly, thankfully, because he can't put any of it into words, or he won't.

Then she pulls back and kisses him, and nods, and he nods back, because he knows that she knows, her father, his brother, and they go back to dancing, and he still has no words to say.

Caroline has no idea how long they swayed and turned and were just there with each other, but neither of them speak until the music runs out and she slips her arms back around his neck. She stands in his arms, just breathing for as long as she can, as long as she can without it feeling weird, and she pulls back, her voice low and quiet. "I'm just going to grab one of your shirts, okay?" And she pulls away to tuck herself in the bathroom so she can change, and it's better than the last time because she's not sobbing, she's not covered in blood, and she's not hiding a secret from him.

She leaves her clothes in a puddle in the corner of the bathroom because she doesn't really care this second, and she takes out the hairpins and leaves them on the sink. When she comes back, he's in a t-shirt and boxers, and she's not surprised, because he's the least come-onny guy that she knows, and she still slips into his bed like she sort of belongs, and when it's dark and he can see sort of but not a lot, she feels the dip of the bed and she reaches to brush the hair out of his face. "Can I kiss you again without it being a totally weird come-on?" Because- because she wants to be close, she wants to cuddle and kiss him but he's not acting like he wants-her wants-her, and she doesn't know if that's okay but it seems like it might be. Unless he actually wants her, and she doesn't know how she feels about that. But just a kiss... that, that was doable.

"I don't see how it could be a weird come-on unless you wanted it to be," he points out, and his eyes have accommodated enough to the darkness by then that he can make her out fairly well, reaching out to push her hair back, fingers lost in the thick of it as he closes the distance between them and kisses. Of course he wants her, but they have time, and he's in no hurry. He doesn't want to rush this, and he's glad for this, for just a kiss, for the way it made his heart tighten in the best of ways, and while they kiss he pulls her closer, and into his arms, because if she's spending the night she's not getting out of that much if he can help it.

She laughs and it's breathy as finally he kisses her first and she sort of slides into him, and it starts sweet, it does, and that sort of low-burning fire thing that they've had going since they'd stopped being pissed at one another, but it changes. She changes it, making a low noise in her throat, and she's kissing him with promise, with more heat, and she can't really stop the way her leg slides up the outside of his, her bare foot against his calf.

Her leg slips higher, and she's not really thinking with her real brain, she's sort of thinking with her wants to get laid brain, because her real brain knows that this is probably not the best plan even though all she wants is for him to touch her.

It all feels so very natural, and his hand naturally finds it way to the underside of her thigh, soft bare skin and if she pressed just a little closer, she would have no doubt of the effect she has on him. Of course he wants her, but he's not going to, not so soon, and even less so when she's a little drunk. So he pulls back from the kiss, and reminds her, a murmur against her lips, "Not a come-on, love, weird or otherwise," and he puts his hand from her thigh on her back, where it's safer, tugging the shirt down where it's ridden up, and he kisses her again, gentle and brief, forcing the heat out of it, no matter how much he wants it, low fire kindled deep inside him.

She makes a noise that's pure disappointment, and she murmurs against his mouth before he pulls back- "There's nothing wrong with making out." Although she's hoping that making out becomes more than making out, and that's a bad idea, and she just sighs, her forehead against his.

"I like it when you touch me," she whispers, and she shakes her head, shifting so that they can still be curled together, and her thigh's still bare on his but it's shifted back a little so it's her ankle against the side of his calf instead of the heel on the back of it, and she sighs, knowing she should just go to sleep.

"And I will touch you more," he tells her, and it's a promise breathed against her lips, breathed with how much he wants to be touching her more right now. For a few moments, he thinks, maybe this morning, she would have sobered up by morning, and if she has a hangover, endorphin would help - rationalisation to justify the very vivid image of his head between her thighs, but he forces himself to dismiss it, because she's right there, in his shirt, and she wants him, so he has to dismiss it. He's glad they're whispering, or it would be all too obvious how husky his voice is. "There's nothing wrong with making out, but we won't want to stop."

"But I don't want to stop," she whispers back, and she pulls in a breath right before she kisses him, and it's brief, and she almost whines with the noise she makes, and then her cheeks are burning and she bites her lip, knowing that this is not- that she really needs to not push. It's not fair. He's being a good guy, and it's not fair, and she finally speaks quietly. "If you don't-" She licks her lips, and her eyes find his in the darkness. "We can just go to sleep, if that's what you want." She's giving him an out.

What he wants - what he wants is not to sleep, and sleep is very unattainable right now anyway, with her there and kissing him, half naked and asking for more. "I don't think I could sleep right now," he answers, and means it, and he wants to kiss her again, her lips so close to his, so tempting, and he almost does, but he wants to wait. Wait until she's no longer drunk, wait until she knows what she's doing. "But you said it yourself. The blue thing was really strong."

She's staring at his mouth, and her breath isn't calm and slow, it's quick and she's trying to not press closer, to not let her leg slip around his hips, and it's hard. It's difficult, and she takes a deep breath and forces herself to pull back all at once, to roll back on the bed and her breath catches as she stares up at the ceiling, and she's nodding once. "Okay. Okay, I can just- We're okay now, right?" She rolls over, so she's facing the wall, and she can take a deep breath without just throwing herself all over him. "Sorry, I- I know you don't- I want you," she blurts, and she's not facing him because she can't, and she forces herself to take another deep breath.

"So much," he finishes her sentence for her, his hands on her back, stroking it through the fabric of his shirt, because she's not in his arms anymore, and somehow it makes it harder. "I want you so much," he tells her, moving closer to lean his brow against the back of her head, his hips safely away from hers, they don't need that. He breathes in the scent of her hair, a hand still on her back, the other one on her arm, focusing on the points of contact and not moving, not doing anything, no matter what passes through his mind, and for once he's glad for whatever limits their abilities, or he might have unwillingly passed the visions on to Caroline.

It would be the easiest thing. It would be the easiest thing to take his hand, to move it, but she's not, she's not doing that, she's lying instead perfectly still, so still she's barely breathing, because it would be the easiest thing so she has to force herself not too. She breathes in and out slowly, because she's got to calm herself down and she knows it, and it's only fair.

"Goodnight," she says softly, to the air of his room instead of to him.

"Good night," he answers, a murmur against her hair, his eyes closed, and he's focusing on the sound of her breathing, and her smell, and again he's glad for the lessening of his abilities, that he can't actually pick up the scent of her arousal yet. And he doesn't move, and doesn't sleep, but just stays there, and wills himself to calm down.

It's hours later - it's hours later and she's been sleeping, and she's somehow slid back against him so the solid feeling of him is behind her back, his arm heavy over her waist. The sky would be green with false dawn if they were home, but they're not home and the sky just watches on as it always does.

It starts slow. A dream - Caroline is at school, and her ring is missing. She's trying to stay away from the sunlight, but it's not a nightmare yet. It's not, it's just a scary dream, and when she finds herself face to face with Damon - Damon who is looking at her and he's hungry, and all she can do is back away, her voice a low no, no, no.

Her back hits a doorknob and she tries it, and she screams as her skin burns, and it's full fledged nightmare now, it's a nightmare and it's disjointed, but she's running from Alaric, she's running from Bruce and he throws her into a wall and she's pinned, he's pinned her with pencils and all she can do is beg Elena not to hurt her, and she's so with the stake, and Damon's in her face and all she can ask him is Are you going to kill me now and she whimpers in his bed, trying to curl herself up, to keep herself safe.

It's not quite been a week since it happened - since the day she came here, when Alaric had hunted her down and tortured her, when he'd tried to force her best friend to kill her. She's had nightmares every night, and they're getting better, but she hadn't thought of them like she should - that she shouldn't have spent the night here, because he'd know. She's making these horrible tiny sounds in her throat, and it's because she's trapped in the dream and can't get out and she knows, somehow, in the dream, that she's going to die and it's terrifying.

Eventually, Klaus manages to go to sleep.

And eventually, he's woken up by Caroline fretting in her sleep, making some choked noises, and it pulls him out of his sleep and straight into the here and now. Caroline's having a nightmare, and now he isn't glad for the lessening of his abilities anymore. But she's young, and he's not sure she even knows how to do any of this, so her mind should be as open as it gets.

He puts a hand on the side of her head, gently, and leans his forehead against her hair again. His eyes close, and his focus sharpens, and he can't get in the way he should, but he's getting flashes of her dream. He can't even will himself in there, only watch these flashes as they come, and they all have one thing in common: Caroline is being tortured, oppressed, she's suffering. He could wake her up, but he wants to try first, because dreams help heal, and he wants to help her.

He knows he can't change the dream itself, and what happens in there, but he's at least trying to breathe a sense of security in, of control, of power instead of the helplessness she feels. He doesn't know if he'll be even remotely successful, and he can feel it pressing in on his brain, the price for what he's doing, but it doesn't matter. He wants to help her.

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