TMU Sequel Chapter 2

Another bonus chapter I wrote for funsies...and because I do have a basic plot outlined for this fic. Again, it's just a time thing and I can't fully commit. I miss the shit out of Klaroline and you guys though so if you're here reading this right now...thanks :)

p.s. please excuse any OOC sounding dialogue and the like. In spite of the fact that it's AU and these characters that we know are a little different anyways. I no longer what any of the shows, so it's been awhile since I've actually spent any time with these guys so I'm not as attuned to their personalities and speech as I once was.

Watch out for Marvel references, Jane Austen references, One Direction references. ALL the references!

Thanks to jomosfamilyjewels and livingdeadblonequeen for looking this over before I posted!

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Heavy gray fog choked the night air, so thick that the yellow glow from lanterns swinging above the street could barely beat it back. Caroline could hardly see three feet in front of her as she rushed down the obscured alleyway. She was late.

Her right foot splashed into a puddle, rainwater soaking her dress and her new footwear. She frowned, but kept on.

She should have worn more sensible footwear for the occasion, but she hadn't expected a merry chase when she'd donned chosen her periwinkle gown and shoes that evening. They were low heeled, but still slippery against the wet stone street. The false buttons up the sides made them her new favorites.

A shadowed figure stepped into the light at the end of the alley, its face and body cloaked in darkness. Fog swirled around its feet and knees like a faithful dog. Her steps faltered, the heel of her boot, sliding between the cracks in the street. The figure loomed, not moving forward, not retreating back; its heavy breaths mixing with the cool night air.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention beneath her chignon, but she could not go back, she could only go forward. The figure with its dark anonymity, frightened her.

"Who goes there?" She asked, or thought she asked. She heard the question, but didn't feel her lips move. "What do you want?"

The tall figure shifted, a hiss slid from its unseen mouth, and she felt something at her hand.

Caroline gasped at the touch and spun around, landing in Klaus's arms. He smiled down at her, eyes glowing with mirth from beneath his top hat. "Easy, love."

His overcoat was soaked from the earlier rain and as usual, his cravat was messily tied. Feeling safe, Caroline relaxed into his embrace, taking comfort in his usual messiness. She reached up to straighten the knot.

"You look as though you've been rolling with wolves," she tutted, her voice sounding odd. More lilting. Northern.

"And what about you?" he said glancing down at the hem of her green gown. "Six inches deep in mud."

She arched a brow, recognizing the quote. "Stealing my copies of Jane Austen again?" Klaus's mouth twitched, but he made no other admission to his interest in her personal collection of novels. The particular story in question had gone missing recently. The thief. "I wouldn't have to ruin gowns if Mrs. Hudson didn't keep stealing and hiding my trousers."

"Come now," Klaus admonished, moving to her side and folding her arm into his. Her gloved hand curved into the crook of his elbow. "It pains her to see a lady of merit in gentleman's clothing."

"It'll pain her far more to see a gown with bullet holes," she groused. "It's near bloody impossible to protect oneself in a gown."

Caroline had forgotten all about the shadowed figure in the alley, until it growled at them again, ending their conversation of fashion and practicality. Klaus hesitated, pulling her closer to his side.

"Caroline..."

The man-beast-whatever it was looming before them, raised a hand, stretching its long, clawed finger out from its body. Caroline followed the line from his finger, straight to the middle of Klaus's chest.

Suddenly, blood was blooming through his white silk shirt, pumping out of him in time with his rapid heartbeat. Her gaze flashed to Klaus's face, white as a ghost, lips stuttering in surprise.

Caroline barely caught him as he dropped to his knees, falling onto the cold wet street.

"Klaus," she cried, trying to keep him conscious, trying to find the epicenter of his chest wound. "Klaus!"

"Caroline," a small slip of crimson leaked from his lips.

Her head snapped away, in the direction of the shadowy beast. "STOP IT! MAKE THIS STOP!"

The beast snarled, a dark rumble in its chest, teeth flashing in the moonlight. Yet she still couldn't see its face or what it was. The life leaked out of Klaus as she held him and stared at the beast.

"What do you want?" she cried. What bargain could she make?

"Caroline," Klaus pressed a bloody hand to her cheek, eyes begging, life leaving him.

Her tears fell over his brow, her fist twisting in his shirt.

"Please," Caroline called to the creature. "PLEASE! NO!"

The beast crouched lowed, snapped its jaws, and lunged forward.

Caroline snapped awake.

She shot up out of bed. The alarm clock on the nightstand next to her demanded attention. She slammed her hand down to shut it up and laid back, trying to settle the furious beating of her heart.

It had been a while since she'd had any Klaus dying nightmares. The combination of their arguments and her ghost research before bed, probably had something to do with the recurrence.

The blanket and sheets were kicked to the foot of her mattress. Taking another deep breath, she rolled her head to look at the time on the clock. It was her late alarm that rang, the one that kept her from sleeping in too long, in case she didn't naturally rise at a decent time.

With a groan, she rolled up and out of bed, to make her way down to breakfast. Thought of death and blood and fear still lingered at the sleep fogged edges of her mind as she strolled down the hall. Voices murmuring from the living room caught her awareness as she tried to figure out who was speaking.

The droning sound of television news grew louder as she rounded the corner of the hall and saw that the voices were that of morning news reports. Klaus stood in front of the sofa, staring at the half dozen TV's—similar to the set up he'd had in Chicago-all tuned to different news stations.

"Can you believe this?" Klaus asked as she moved past him and toward the kitchen. If she was going to believe anything, she was going to need coffee first.

While she prepared the coffee pot, she listened to the various reports, trying to pick out a common denominator. There were attacks in Syria, arms dealers in Africa, the shifting American relations with Cuba, a chemical leak in—she didn't catch where-and something about Prince William visiting Wakanda.

She shuffled back into the living room, coffee mug snug in her palm, and ran a hand through her sleep-messed waves.

"The world is as terrible as it usually is?" she replied sardonically, dropping down to the couch behind him.

"It's what isn't being mentioned. At all," Klaus grumbled. "A titan of the media industry is on trial, his lawyer has been murdered, and there isn't a word of it anywhere."

She recalled hearing a few mentions of the story of the infamous Ashford Loveless being involved in a phone hacking scandal. He-along with ten editors of his various publications-were currently under criminal investigation over alleged hacking, extortion, and other criminal charges.

Not much had developed from the story, aside from the recent murder of his lawyer.

Caroline sipped her coffee. "Maybe there isn't much to say?"

Klaus shot her an arch look over his shoulder. "When has the lack of having something to say on a subject ever prevented a news program from commenting on it?"

Fair point. Perhaps it was a little strange the talking heads weren't debating the matter at length.

"Loveless is the big boss of all these stations," Caroline posed. "Maybe they don't want to say anything that could land them in a weird spot if he doesn't get charged and go to prison."

Klaus dropped down onto the couch beside her, his brow furrowed. He leaned his elbows against his knees and folded his hands against his chin. "The charges haven't even been made yet. Why murder the lawyer before there is even mention of a trial?"

"He probably has a whole legal team, what does the death of one lawyer matter?" Klaus shot her a sideways look and she caught herself. "I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did…I just meant if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting—"

"And what am I suggesting?"

"You're suggesting that the lawyer was murdered to disrupt something with the investigation," Klaus gave her a full smile and she knew she'd gotten it right. "Then why kill him now? If it's someone on Loveless' side, it just makes him look more suspicious and draws more attention. If it's something on the other side…"

"It distracts from the point."

Klaus and Caroline stared at one another, both lost in their respective gazes, a thread of shared theory linking them. Caroline noticed how close they were, the bare skin of her thigh touching the material of the leg of his jeans. Clearing her throat, she shifted off the couch.

"I need—" The doorbell interrupted, startling her. "Who's that?"

"I have other appointments today," Klaus replied. "You made them."

"For clients? I thought we were taking the ghost case?"

"You are taking the case. You're perfectly capable of going at it on your own, as you already have been. You've proven that you don't need me." There was a certain sour note in his statement that made her guilty and angry all at once. "I shall find a case of my own."

Caroline wanted to argue. The point was for them to work together, as they always had. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was important to find their independence. It had only been eight hours ago that she'd been wanting some space from him.

The bell rang again and Klaus left her to answer the visitor at the door.

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Klaus spent the rest of the morning taking the few appointments Caroline had scheduled for him. She'd breezed out of the door an hour after she'd awoken, off to continue her work on the ghost case. He watched her go from the leather chair in the living room, whilst his potential client nattered on about something or other. He didn't know what.

The televisions were still on, still tuned to the news. Klaus could multi-task. He could tune out the droning of his would-be clients while taking care to listen to study the negative space in the news.

He moved to the sofa, laying out across the gray cushions, and stretching his legs out.

"Umm, pardon?" The little old woman on his loveseat inquired. "Are you listening?"

"No, of course I'm not," Klaus replied, closing his eyes, "but you can continue on."

The little lavender haired lady considered for a moment, but must have come to the conclusion that his participation in the conversation did not matter, for on she went.

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Caroline had no sooner made it out the door and into the beautiful day before she was being accosted by a five foot four whirl of fury.

Katherine Mikaelson-nee-Pierce coming through the gate of the building. As usual, she was clad in a tight, dark colored outfit that looked more biker-chic than posh doctor's wife. Her chocolate curls cascading down her shoulders and her dark eyes challenged anyone who dare meet her gaze. As soon as she saw Caroline, the woman stopped, crossing her arms and tapping the pointed toe of her 5-inch heeled shoe against the concrete.

There was a time in her life when a woman like Katherine would have intimidated Caroline. But Caroline had no patience for whatever it was that Katherine was there to yell about. She sidestepped her and shoved open the gate, continuing on her original path.

Unfortunately, Katherine followed.

"So, is it acceptable in whatever hick ass town you're from to go around having secret dinners with another woman's husband?"

Caroline scoffed. It shouldn't have surprised her. The first time they'd met—when Elijah had come to Chicago after Klaus's death to carry out his will—Katherine had accused her of being a scheming gold digger. That was just how her slimy mind worked.

"Seriously? You actually think I was making a move on Elijah?"

"No," she replied. "You may be blonde, but you aren't that stupid."

"Gee, thanks." Caroline muttered, holding her out her hand to flag a cab.

"Where are you off to in such a rush? Shouldn't you be having celebratory sex with Klaus now that he's not dead?"

Thankfully, a cab pulled up to the curb, saving Caroline from having to answer any intrusive questions. "As fun as this has been," she said, giving Katherine a smile that said their little conversation had actually been the opposite of fun. "I have work to do..."

"Work?"

"Yeah, work. Not all of us can be gold diggers and trophy wives."

Katherine bristled and Caroline felt proud of the cheap shot; considering how many times Katherine had tried to imply that Caroline herself was only after Klaus for his money.

Caroline flipped her hair over her shoulder and tossed open the door to slide into the cab, leaving a miffed Katherine alone on the street. As she pulled the door shut, Katherine's hand caught the side, holding it and throwing it open once more.

"Move," she commanded, getting in before Caroline had the chance to protest. She slid over, only to avoid being sat on.

"What-"

"You're talking about that little detective thing you two do," Katherine's grin was full of mocking. "Elijah told me all about it. I'd love to see you in action."

Caroline knew the game she was playing. She could hear the supposition and doubt in her tone. She didn't think Caroline was smart enough to be any sort of detective. She took a look at the blonde hair and bright disposition and made her snap judgments.

Caroline had thickened her skin toward reactions like that. She'd gotten used to it back when she was investigating her father's murder in Virginia. She'd gotten used to it building her college career in academia. She'd gotten used to it working a sober companion, meeting Klaus, working with the CPD.

And she'd proved every damn one of them wrong.

Caroline decided to lay it on thick and smiled her beauty queen, southern belle smile. She gave the cabbie the address. "Sure, you can come along. If you think you can handle it?"

Pleased that she'd won, Katherine answered with a look that was just as sticky sweet as Caroline's and settled back into the vinyl seat as the black cab pulled away from the curb.

Proving Katherine wrong was going to be fun.

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Judging by Geoff, she expected an apartment building, bachelor pad, decorated geeky movie posters and well used furniture. She still didn't have a good grasp on the varying neighborhoods and areas of London. She was still getting to know it all, so judging by the address she had no expectations of Geoff's home.

The cab pulled up outside the address and Caroline almost thought that they'd come to the wrong place. They'd parked outside a lovely gathering of townhomes, more fit for families than socially awkward bachelors. She called Geoff to double check the address, and he soon appeared at his front door, waving at the cab from the doorstep.

With a derisive, "he looks charming" from Katherine, Caroline paid the cab driver and got out to meet her client.

It was possible Geoff only owned one t-shirt. Or he hadn't bothered to change since he'd been in Caroline and Klaus's flat.

The ginger man welcomed them both inside, offering tea, and making comments about the mess. It was true. The apartment was cluttered, but it wasn't dirty. There were geeky posters, accompanied by sleek, modern furniture, leather couches, dark wood tables. But there was also take out containers, bowls filled with popcorn, and video game cases scattered around the living room.

"What is it you do?" Katherine snarked.

"Programs analyst," Geoff replied. "I work from home."

Katherine shot him a sharp smile and picked up one of the video games like it was a dirty, wet rag.

"Where's Mr. Mikaelson?" Geoff asked, glancing dubiously at Katherine. From his gaze, it was easy to see him trying to decide if he was attracted or afraid. Some combination of both was probably practical.

"Just me today," Caroline answered, not bothering to introduce them. "So, can we see upstairs?"

"Uh, yeah right," Geoff walked back to the front table and picked up a brass key. "The landlord gave me this, in case anyone with the funeral home needed to be let in he didn't want to have to keep coming back and forth."

Geoff took the two of them next door to Mrs. Bank's flat. Geoff hadn't mentioned too many details about the old dead woman. Caroline had done what research she could, but there wasn't much to go on.

From what she could tell, the layout of the home similar to Geoff's, just flipped around.

"Oh god, what is that smell?" Katherine moaned, her heels clacking on the hardwood. She pinched her nose and poor Geoff looked embarrassed, in spite of the fact that the smell wasn't his fault.

There was a sour hint in the air. A mixture of cleaner, old people smell, and spoiled food. Caroline hoped that the smell was coming from fridge leftovers, rather than the possibility that some hint of aged death still hung in the air, invading her lungs.

She coughed. "Have you still been hearing noises here at night?"

Geoff nodded.

Caroline strolled into the living room, studying the rugs, couches, armoires. There was a shelf of old look encyclopedias, random porcelain knick-knacks, and lots of decorative vases. No personal photos hung around.

It was unkind, but the home felt old and sad. Nothing spoke of a cozy place full of love and happiness. The objects around looked untouchable, cold and distant. Even the throw pillows on the couch warned people away from getting too comfortable. Caroline thought the old woman that lived there must have lived a similar life, considering she had no relatives, and no one knew she was dead until days after she'd passed.

A shiver tickled her spine, thoughts of her loved ones dying alone. She made a mental note to call her mother.

"What kind of noises?" Katherine asked, picking up an old vase, giving it a judgmental once over and setting it back on the wooden end table where it lived.

"Stop touching things," Caroline hissed behind her back, crossing to examine the hallway as Geoff explained the mysterious noises to Katherine.

Katherine ignored her warning and moved away. Caroline continued out into the hall, noticing scuff marks against the corner of the otherwise pristine walls.

"Noises, like..." Geoff made a sort of "oooo" sound, wobbling his hands through the air in what was meant to be a spooky fashion. He cleared his throat, blushing. "And, ya know…footsteps and such."

Caroline looked up the stairwell, noticing a lift chair, meant for people in wheelchairs.

"Hang on," Katherine whirled to face Caroline, a look of complete mirth on her face. Like a cat discovering a mouse already caught in a trap, ripe for eating. "Are you investigating ghosts? I thought you investigated real things?"

Klaus was to blame for that moment. If he hadn't stuck her with the case...

"I'm not investigating ghosts. I'm looking for answers," Caroline defended. She turned her attention to Geoff. "Was Mrs. Banks in a wheelchair?"

"Yeah, she never really left. Sometimes she'd sit outside in the garden."

"Pretty clean house for someone who can't get around," Katherine observed. Caroline was thinking the same thing. She must have had a housekeeper. Further in the house, there was a den that had been set up as a study. It was empty, except for a large red rug and giant, old look writing desk tucked against the far wall.

The black mahogany loomed, even in the bright room. Caroline approached it with some measure of reverence. There was a shine to the obviously hand crafted piece, barely a scratch. Brass knobs need a little polish. Gingerly, she pulled at the cabinet to peak inside. It was empty. No books in the bookcase, no papers or pens in the drawers. Strange.

Her eyes went down to the floor, and noticed scratches on the floor by the bottom. Digs deep enough that wood had curled up from the indents in the floor. She stood back from the old piece of furniture, noticing the way it was off center against the wall. Walking over to one side, Caroline attempted to push, realizing that the empty, old desk was rather heavy. Using her shoulder, she leaned against it, only moving it just a centimeter or so, using all her weight against the object.

"I thought we weren't touching things," Katherine goaded from the doorway, Geoff peeking in behind her.

"You're certain there weren't any relatives?"

Geoff shook his head. "None that I saw. No one ever came to visit."

"Would anyone else have access to the house? A nurse? Caretaker?"

"I'm not sure, maybe?" He blew out a breath. "I'm not sure what this has to do with a ghost."

"Ghosts aren't real," Katherine insisted. "Is this what you used to do in Chicago? Humor socially awkward insane people?"

"Oh my god," Caroline sighed, exasperated. "Geoff, I'll need to stay overnight. To be here when the ghost is here."

"You really think there is a ghost?" Caroline ignored Katherine's jab and kept her focus on her client.

"Fine by me," the man said and made plans for her to come return later that night.

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"What are you doing?" Klaus was in his studio room, papers spread before him, and music playing from the stereo in the corner. "And what are you listening to?"

Caroline made a face as if she was hearing nails on a chalkboard, rather than sugary, bright pop music coming through the surround sound. True, it was a hard left from the scratchy guitars and anger induced vocals he normally preferred.

"Is this boy band music?"

Klaus peered at her over his copy of Hello! magazine that he'd picked up from the shop earlier that day. She was dressed to go out, jacket on, a practical blouse and jeans. His eyes went to her footwear. Boots, not heels. That was something.

He grinned at her "Why, yes. Yes it is. I believe the band is called Northstars?" He flipped out the magazine and made a show of turning his attention back to the story. "Did you know that despite the band's cookie cutter, youthful demographic...there is a certain amount of darkness in the tale of their professional lives? Romantic tragedy, sex scandal, lies. Every moment of their lives as public figures have been carefully crafted into a particular narrative by their managers and publicists. It's really all quite fascinating. In fact," Klaus walked to his sawhorse desk and plucked a photograph from a pile, holding it up in front of Caroline's pretty blue eyes, "there is an entire conspiracy theory devoted to the hypothesis that this band member's newborn child doesn't even exist."

He allowed her a moment's examination of the photo of the boy band-er with his alleged son, before pulling it away from her line of vision and tossing it back onto the pile.

He struggled to hold back the amused smile when he turned to face her again at the site of her crossed arms and irritated look. He loved to see her feathers ruffled.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm quite serious," he claimed innocently. "My first appointment this morning-poor girl-came in crying because of break-up rumors. She told me the entire sad tale, presented the evidence she and hundreds of others have already collected, and begged me to aid her in exposing the truth."

Caroline let out the most exasperated of groans, throwing her hands in the air, and whirled away from him. It only furthered his amusement.

"Is something the matter, love?"

"You know what's the matter," she ground out, continuing away from him and into the hall.

"On the contrary, I'll have you know I find this entire situation quite enthralling. As a case it has potential."

Curls flew around her shoulders in an angry wave as she reeled to face him again. Her face tinged pink, brow furrowed, and as she glared, trying to decide how best to react.

"You know, you're rendering this whole private consulting detective thing pretty pointless."

"I already told you it was 'pretty pointless.'"

"If you're going to act like a child about everything I'll-"

"You'll what?" Klaus countered, stepping into her space.

He toed the line of tension between them, coming close enough that they were nose to nose. Between his shallow breaths he could smell the lavender that lingered on her skin and the rose tipped tea she'd had that afternoon. Her irritation rolled into him and he let it. He hated his own sense of preservation holding him back from what he truly wanted.

There was no advance or retreat. He was held captive by the poppy-colored stain on her cheeks, the stutter of her lips, the blue twin flames in her eyes…

The door chime cracked the moment.

Klaus clenched his fist with a curse as Caroline stepped back from him.

"Can you get that? I have to finish getting ready." She stepped around him and went to back her room.

Klaus called after her over his shoulder. "Where to tonight, love? Another secret rendezvous with my brother?"

"Stake out tonight, for my case," she called back.

It was late for someone to be at their door, but Klaus wasn't thinking about whom might possibly be calling on them at a quarter after ten. He yanked open the door, already glaring at the bastard on the other side, imagining a certain amount of violence toward them for interrupting the heated moment.

The glare changed to a look of curiosity as he took in the dark eyes, hair, and smile greeting him.

"I didn't expect you to be the one darkening my doorstep so late in the evening."

Deep pink lips twitched up into an amused smirk. She lowered her eyes momentarily to the ground, in what he was assumed was meant to be a demure fashion, but there was nothing demure about the women filling his doorway. Nothing at all.

"I see I need no introduction," she purred, extending a smooth, polished hand in his direction. "But allow me to introduce myself. I'm Katherine."

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The brunette strutted into his flat, dangerously tall heels crisscrossing one over the other with each step. It was true she needed no introduction. Klaus had seen photographs of the woman who was his brother's wife. His sister-in-law.

Elijah's opposite in every way, Klaus wondered at their pairing. She oozed sexually and confidence, not in a overt way, but a way that said she could murder a man and he'd thank her with a kiss at his last dying breath.

Nothing like the women Elijah had chosen in the past.

"Congratulations," she said to him. "On not being dead. I'm sorry to have missed your coming out."

"Thank you," Klaus replied, folding his hands behind his back. He followed her, watching her peruse his flat, studying his possessions and his art with a discerning eye. Her fingers took in details that her eyes did not catalogue sufficiently. He didn't care for a veritable stranger touching his things, but he allowed it to slide, preferring to study her as she studied him.

When she was satisfied she faced him again, flashing him a smart smile.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear," she began. "You may be Elijah's brother, but I'm his wife."

"So I've heard."

"I know all about you and your detective thing and how smart you think you are. I also know that you used to be a sad, drooling junky who could barely function. So I'm telling you right now, if you do anything to hurt Elijah ever again, I will-" she paused to let out a short, merciless laugh. "Well, you don't want to find out what I'll do."

"Big words from a trophy wife, love."

She shrugged. "That's what you think."

Klaus considered the act of intimidation. Startling, but not unheard of from her kind. Woman like her always thought of themselves as intimidating. There was never any weight behind their threats, and when there was, it came at the hands of another, more physically capable source.

Something about her carriage said that she didn't rely on others to carry her threats. Katherine Pierce was perfectly capable of keeping her violent promises.

"My brother is so lucky," he replied. "To have found such a lovely protector."

"Oh god, what the hell are you doing here?"

The pair of siblings-in-law turned to see Caroline frowning at Katherine.

"We're going ghost hunting right? I didn't want to miss out."

Caroline didn't look at Klaus. She groaned and grabbed her purse, yanking it over her shoulder. "Fine. Whatever. I'm leaving now."

Katherine shot Klaus one last dark look and followed Caroline out the door.

He watched them go and retreated back to his studio, with his cell phone, sitting down at the desk in front of his laptop.

His thumb pressed a number and he waited two rings for the person on the other end to answer.

"Klaus."

"Marcel."

"I assume you're calling me for a favor."

Straight and to the point. "Not very chatty this evening, old friend."

"Now isn't a good time," he replied with some edge to his voice. "What do you need?"

"A favor, but an simple one. I need to know everything you can find for me on Katherine Pierce. I'm sending you a photograph now."

Klaus hit send on the email and heard it ping on Marcel's end a second later. "Now there's the devil in high heels," Marcel assessed. "Have you moved on? Did Caroline finally wise up and leave your death-faking ass?"

It was a joke, but it hit too close to the mark. "Elijah's wife."

"Klaus…"

"I don't have an sexual interest in her," he insisted. Sleep with his brother's fiancée one bloody time and people never forgot. "Just find out what you can for me."

"Give me 24 hours," Marcel said and ended the call.

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There's a chance I might write a couple extra scenes...since I already have them planned out in my head. Just depends on the time I have. Thanks all for being good sports and to anyone who is reading and leaving reviews. You guys are magical.

Please excuse the shameless dream sequence in the beginning an my lusty need to imagine Klaus and Caroline in a Victorian-Steampunk setting. Also watching The Abominable Bride back in January gave me inspiration for twisting something like an alt-setting into this fic :)

Also I am INCREDIBLY fascinating by the on going craziness with One Direction. If anyone is a fan-maybe even if you're not-you have some clue of what I speak of. I have a head canon that TMU Klaus would find himself sucked into the multiple conspiracy theories surrounding the group lol

I used to be hybridlovelies but now am MarvelousKatie :)