Disclaimer: I do not own Maroon Five's "Payphone," Vampire Diaries, or Joseph Morgan…oh, but if I did ;) (That's a JoMo twitter-style winky face in case you fellow Klaus lovers didn't catch that.)

A/n: I got this idea because this song has been stuck in my head ever since I watched a Klaroline vid to it. And I feel like the lyrics would match exactly how Klaus would feel…you know, if one Miss Plec hadn't decided to desiccate the very reason I WATCH TVD.

Two Hearts and Shattered Glass

"All those fairytales are full of shit. If I hear one more love song, I'll be sick."

She didn't know how she felt. Ok, that's a lie. She did. But she felt two different things. She understood the elation and relief she felt; he had killed so many innocents and caused so much heartache and worry. She wasn't confused about why she felt so relieved that he was…out of commission. But she felt more than that; she felt guilty. He had shown how he felt for her; he'd saved her. All those other times he'd tried to win her over, the gifts and the compliments, she hadn't believed those. And that's why she had rejected him time and time again. That's why she thought of his courting her as some joke that she thought was meant to either be cruel or stupid. She even had the passing thought that she was supposed to be some pawn in his plan. But he'd saved her. When she was running and hurt and more scared than she'd been in years-and with her life, that's saying something- he was there.

Why's he HERE? Was the first thought that had flown through her head. The man she thought he was would've sped right into the classroom, killed Alaric, kidnapped Elena and ran, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves. She had stared at him, probably looking like an idiot little girl, because she couldn't figure out why he chose to come make sure SHE was okay. But then, when he put his arms around her, she knew. She knew he loved her. She felt it in the way he'd held onto her like he'd let Alaric rip his heart out before he'd let him get to her. She heard it in the way he whispered to her, his words, "It's me; you're safe," impacted her more than she wanted them to. It sounded like he thought it should be obvious that as long as it's him with her, she'd be perfectly safe.

And therein comes the guilt. She'd celebrated his death, like it was a momentous occasion. The very thought of having a party over someone dying is sick all in itself. But the relief had drowned that out. But now, now she felt the guilt. He'd truly loved her. He'd saved her and cost himself valuable time. And she'd helped her friends kill him.

But the weirdest part of it all, the feeling in her chest that she just didn't understand….was grief. She was sad. And it confused the hell out of her. Why should she be sad? She was mad at him, beyond the grave and unreasonably so, for making her feel sad that he was gone, even when she knew all the beyond horrible things he'd done. But some part of her was still sad, despite the anger and relief, so sad.

It was strange to think, the thoughts felt foreign in her mind, but for those last few weeks, when he was trying to persuade her, she'd seen him. Truly seen him. She guessed that the only people that had ever done that were Rebekah and Elijah. Rebekah saw him; she saw Nik. That was why she'd always defended him, always took his sad even when she was pissed at him. She saw who her brother was and she loved him, whether she thought she should or not. Elijah saw his little brother, all the time. Oh, did he. He saw him and tried to help him, but somehow he always pushed everyone away, spun out. Elijah loved his brother, but felt sorry for him. And over the last few weeks, Caroline thought that she had seen Nik too. While her friends saw the unafraid, merciless, hybrid Original, she had, knowingly or not, been seeing him for Nik. She saw his bad temper, , she saw him trying to turn off his feelings and then turn them back on when it was useful, she'd looked into his eyes and seen the lost paranoid little boy that thought everyone was out to get him. But she'd also seen his charm-he could be quite a smooth talker when he wanted to be. Not that she'd fallen for it, far from it, but she'd seen it. And she'd seen his almost inborn passion, creativity, she'd looked at his paintings and drawings and she had suppressed it at the time, but the colors and lines and pictures, the way he'd blended it all, it screamed genius. It was beautiful and tragic and tortured. The tortured artist was one of the worst clichés Caroline could think of, but he fit it well. She'd seen that he was a natural leader, but he could also be shy at rare times, when he was trying to get something he truly cared about, when he was trying to be delicate and was nervous because he was so unused to it.

And so how could she not, how could she not mourn him? Because he was a person and she'd seen him for that. It didn't matter if she'd hated him for a long time or if he was horrible most of the time, he was still a person. None of the others would ever grieve him; they'd never seen the person in him. But Caroline had; she saw humanity in his eyes and she'd been too scared to try to fish it out of 'd chosen the easy way; she'd stayed with Tyler and defeated the bad guy. All a day's work for a good-girl, bad-ass Vampire Barbie. Or at least, that's what she'd tell herself. But she couldn't help but think that she was choosing the way that didn't include any confusing emotions or hard decisions. She felt guilty for that; because she'd chosen the easy way, he'd died. His words burned through her brain and she wanted to wash herself a thousand times over for feeling this way and then cry because he was gone and because she knew he had been right, "Small town boy, small town life; it won't be enough for you."

She knew that his words were true; she'd known the moment he'd said them, she just didn't want to listen to him. She would eventually get bored here and feel stifled and suffocated. She knew she would. She was just stretching out her life here as much as she could, fighting the inevitable.

She sighed as she realized that now when she finally did want to leave this town and everyone in it, he wouldn't be there to show her all the places she didn't know. And then she mentally hit herself because she'd for a few minutes forgotten all the bad things he'd ever done.

"If happy ever after did exist, I'd wished to be holding you like this."

He looked around the bar he'd chosen to hide in after Rebekah had knocked over the Salvatore's car and saved him. He'd chosen it because of how nondescript it was, but now it's blandness was making him sick. It mirrored the way he felt, in a sense, because he didn't want to feel anything bright or effusive or anything near the way that little blond baby vamp had made him feel anymore. He knew it had been a mistake-to let his guard down and actually try to show someone who he was. He was a fool, he'd gone against his own advice, "Love is a vampire's greatest weakness."

They'd all probably thought that he was just trying to use her for one of his schemes. He wasn't. And that was the part the stung him the most. Something inside of him had ached, some knife that as being twisted into his heart, when they'd all defended Tyler and attacked him. He wasn't surprised at all, but in that moment, his mind had shot to thoughts of Caroline. She probably didn't know exactly what they were going to do to him, but she certainly didn't seem to care if they did. Or maybe she did know.

A love song started playing on the radio, something about two hearts fitting together and never leaving the other. It made him want to simultaneously barf and hit someone. He knew better than to let someone in. He hadn't even fully realized he'd been doing it, but he'd let Caroline in. Even if she never gave in, he certainly had. He berated himself for hours on end, ordering scotch after scotch. The bartender even tried to cut him off once. That was, of course, a bad idea. He tried to kill him. He wanted to kill him. But he didn't. Somewhere, way far back in his mind, he saw her face and knew that she wouldn't approve. He consciously didn't give a damn if she approved, but his subconscious mind disagreed. He wanted to hit himself now. He was a bloody softie, an idiot, and super pissed. In both senses of the word.

But the thing that twisted the knife most was the way she'd thanked him, after he'd saved her life. He remembered the light in her eyes, that damn light that he'd unknowingly become so addicted to. He saw the gratitude and surprise written across her face plain as day. He'd been touched that she was actually appreciate of what he was doing and he'd been hurt that she was surprised he was even doing it. That one look had shown him that up until that moment, she had not believed him. She didn't truly believe he cared for her until that look passed over her face. But after, she did. And she still let her friends kill him. That was why he was here in the middle of nowhere at noon, drinking himself into oblivion. Actually, it was probably because, despite all of that crap, he still wanted to hold her in his arms.

I'm an idiot, he thought and slammed his glass down on the counter, shattering the glass.