Author's note: I cannot for the life of me remember what was going on in mystic falls at the end of season 1 of the originals. After writing the first part of this it occurred to me Damon might be in prison world, and hence not available for his cameo here. Anyway i decided not to care because a little bit of Damon is always welcome.

"Seriously Elena it's no big deal" she's trying to get away with the minimum fuss, trying to sell the inconsequentiality of it. No big deal, don't ask, don't question, I'll be home before you know it. She's selling it, casual and confident, and already bored by prospect. It's just a chore, an obligation, and no big deal.

Elena's buying it too, because Elena is good and trusting and genuine. Elena never ever sells anything. So Elena buys everything. She watches her friend's gentle eyes swirl in soft acceptance and knows she's home free.

"Blondie, seriously?" Damon, appearing in the doorway with glass in hand, humourless mimicry on his kiss me lips. Damon never buys anything, presumably because he hasn't told the truth in the best part of two centuries.

She shoots him a hard look, "back off" it says, "mind your business". His eyes narrow, the way they do when he's readying himself for a fight but perhaps there is a hardness in hers, or more likely a desperation, that makes him tilt his head and concede. He's not complex, not really, but even Damon has layers and he surprises her with a crooked smile and a nod that Elena misses.

She hugs them both as she leaves and its Damon's turn to be surprised by the silent thank you in her tightening arms.

"Urgh, ok, I better get this over with" she acts it out for Elena's benefit as she leaves and ignores Damon's pensive frown. "I love you"

….

The drive to New Orleans is hot and uncomfortable and interminable but she's happy enough to take the time, it gives her a chance to decide what she will do when she arrives, what she will say. Hours later the road still blurs past her and she has no more clue what she will say than when she drove away from the Salvatore boarding house with her worried best friend fading in her rearview mirror

….

It isn't hard to find his house, the French quarter is lousy with supernaturals and the story of the summer is the only one on anyone's lips. The originals have gone to ground, entombed in their grief, the once vibrant Mikaelson mansion now a darkened mausoleum of mourning.

Everyone is afraid. The city has an air of terrified expectation, of calm panicked inevitability. The hybrid mourns behind those brooding walls and all of New Orleans is still and terrified because he will only grieve like this for so long. One day, later or probably sooner, he will throw open the shutters, unbar the door and step out into the city again. The city that stole his child from him.

She goes to the shrine, its and odd collection of nothings that mean everything to the few that placed them there. Photos, flowers, a necklace dangling limply, a bottle of beer, a red ribbon, a card with a picture of a winged cherub. Her heart slows painfully at the sight, "Baby Mikaelson" it reads. Klaus' child depicted as a miniature angel, is that how they saw the child she wonders, a savior, heaven sent? Perhaps they did, perhaps it was, she supposes now they'll never know.

It's late by the time she walks trembling fearlessly into the mansion's courtyard. She's spent the time wandering the streets, preparing for this. She still has no idea what she will say.

She doesn't call out. Even she who's never been afraid of shattering a silence can't bring herself to unleash her shrill greeting into the cloying air of the courtyard. What would she call out anyway? "Hello" is too irreverent, his name far too punishing. So she walks tentatively over the cobbles and up the stairs the silence in the place presses down on her shoulders like a heavy load, slowing her steps and quickening her breath. A human would take this silence for emptiness but she can feel him, he's here, hidden and watching and unknowable but he's here and her senses buzz with the realness of him.

Finally she stops, stands on the balcony and casts half interested eyes over the covered furniture and shuttered windows. "I'm sorry," she whispers. Now that she's here it seems ridiculous to have worried about the right words for this. There are no words but these. "I'm so sorry" she repeats because she is. Maybe its true, what the world believes, that he is the last creature on the planet deserving a chance of redemption, but god knows he needs it and she is so very sorry, for him and perhaps deep down for herself, that he has lost that chance.

This is all she came to say, it's up to him now, she'll wait a few moments then she'll say it one more time and then she'll leave. She half hopes that that's how it will go, she half hopes it's not. It's not and she's more than half glad.

"Thank you Caroline," he murmurs softly from somewhere to her right and a little behind her. It's such a human exchange, so ordinary that you could almost believe they were no different from the living, but if they were human he would have had to be intimately close for her to hear his whispered thanks, they are not and she's glad.

"I..." she begins without looking at him but he stops her before she can repeat herself again. His hands on her upper arms, he's right behind her now without her having heard him move and despite everything his body calls to her like it always did and she moves the tiniest fraction into him.

"Thank you" he repeats and she spins in slow motion to face him, his grip loosening to allow the movement but not releasing her completely. She can't meet his eyes and she can't think of anything to say so she leans in close, lays her head on his chest and wraps her arms around his waist.

She expects him to resist the humanness of it, to hold himself stiff and reserved against her comfort but he doesn't' he melds into her and buries his face in her neck with a sigh. "Caroline" he murmurs and she swears she feels his lips form a smile against her skin. His body thrums against her with an almost excitement that's makes no sense against the city's hushed whispers of brooding, menacing, grief. He pulls away and she's certain his eyes do flash with something almost joyfully excited as his lips part to speak.

"Niklaus!" Elijah's distinctive voice is sharper than she's heard it, laced with warning and reprimand. He nods in her direction "Miss Forbes"

She disentangles herself from Klaus who steps away from her and folds in on himself as if without her touch he is retreating again behind a wall of sorrow. "Elijah" She greets politely. "I just…" she shakes her head slightly, thrown by his unnatural stillness. The others, Elena at least, trusted Elijah, bought into his reputation of nobility and honour, she never did. To her he was always too contained, everything about him too carefully hidden. She'd always been more inclined to trust Klaus, though God knows she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, at least he wore his villainy, like his love, on his sleeve.

"I just came to say how sorry I am." She draws herself up and steadies her voice. It's easier to elaborate her condolement now it isn't just the two of them. "I know we're not friends and everyone was pretty freaked out by the hybrid miracle baby, but no one wanted this."

It's blunt but its honest and she's always chosen the honest over the tactful.

"Thank you Miss Forbes. My brother and I appreciate you making the trip" she raises and eyebrow at him speaking for his brother and glances in Klaus' direction but the hybrids face is turned away and she can't find his eyes. "Will you be staying long in New Orleans?" Elijah asks the question in his same inscrutable way but she senses a subtle dismissal in the question.

"Umm" she looks again to Klaus but he is still watching his own shoes. "I guess just a night or two" Elijah silently holds her eyes and she gets the urge to run from his ancient gaze. "I better go actually, find somewhere to check in"

"Stay here" Klaus speaks to her but his eyes or on his brother and there's a childish challenging insolence in them that an only child like her can't fully understand. "We couldn't turn a lady out on the street now could we brother"

Elijah's eyes twitch in what might pass for annoyance on his impassive features. "Quite" he agrees with a hard look at Klaus before turning to her. "There are many rooms, please do make yourself at home"

…

She is studying a painting hanging in her room when he finally seeks her out, trying to decide if he painted it or not. She realizes she has no way of knowing, she doesn't know his style, his preferences of colour or medium. Aside from a snowflake in dark oils she's never paid much attention to his art, a pencil sketch still hidden in her jewelry box not withstanding.

"Tell me Caroline" He lounges against the doorframe in that way beautiful men always seem to have. Damon is a master of it, that languid arrogant ease; like they're so sexy things should just be there to hold them up. She realizes her mind is drifting and wrenches her attention away from the feline lines of his body and back to his sad guarded eyes. "Did you see anything of our fair city before coming here?"

"Yeah" she replies. "I went all over the French Quarter trying to track you down, heard all the stories. For a man who hasn't been seen in over a month you sure are the name on everyone's lips"

"Ah" he looks almost amused for an instant before he schools his face into impassiveness.

"They're afraid of you" it comes out judgmental, because that's who she is no matter how much she means to be sympathetic. "They're all just out there waiting for you to come out of mourning and rip everyone's heart out"

Now he does look amused in a grim eyed sort of way that chills her blood. "Well they needn't worry, they won't have to wait much longer"

"You don't have to do it?" Caroline states boldly, she has never feared him as much as she should.

"Yes" he says slowly pushing off the wall and taking a couple of meandering steps into the room. "I do"

She sighs because she can't judge his pain, can't begin to comprehend the loss. The one bright light in a thousand years of darkness snuffed out before he ever saw it shine, it turns her stomach to churning water to think of it. But she still has to try to change his mind.

"It won't change anything" She tells him as if he didn't know. "They're not all to blame Klaus. Your baby was innocent, don't kill more innocents in her name."

"Sorry love but I have to" He smirks. "Reputation to maintain and all"

"Reputation? Seriously!" her voice rises in disbelieving anger. "How can you be thinking about your fricking reputation right now? How can it matter at all now?"

"Now more than ever" His ire rises to meet hers but his voice holds more than anger, there's enough fear in it to give her pause

She takes a deep calming breath and tries to understand him. "I get it. All that matters is being king of the city, being the biggest and badest of them all right?" he watches her with stormy eyes and she ploughs on despite the feeling that her words are trite and weightless. "But come on you know you have more than that, you still have Elijah, you have at least one or two friends" she'd visited the bartender had seen the concern in her soulful human eyes when she'd asked her about Klaus. If she includes herself, which she reluctantly must, he has at least two. She touches him against her better judgment, takes his hand in her own. "You still have hope"

He lets out a bark of laughter and his eyes meet hers with a sudden dancing brightness. She's struck again by the thought that he has something to tell her but he cocks his head a little as if listening and his jaw clenches with annoyance.

He nods and lifts their joined hands to his lips. "Goodnight Caroline" and he is gone.