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About five years after Caroline Forbes landed her first job as a marketing coordinator at a boutique communications firm, she decided to use some intense life-changes going on around her to cash in on accrued vacation days and and take an extended trip through Europe.
Eat, pray, love, she thought.
It was on this trip when she found herself wrapped in the arms of a local man while in far north Germany.
She was to cross into Denmark the following day, and he pushed her hair back from her face, his eyes filled with intensity, as he said something that would stick in her mind for years to come.
“You know, we have a saying here,” he said, his beautiful accent melting her heart. “You always meet twice in life, so I can let you go tomorrow knowing we will meet again.”
When Caroline boarded her train the next day, after kissing him passionately, she was sure he was the love portion of her eat, pray, love.
Though, as she pondered his words - you always meet twice in life - Caroline felt her mind stray away from him, her mind casting to love from many years before.
A love she felt very intensely, very quickly, but was over before it began.
///
This tale took its first steps one mild evening at the end of one October, a little before Halloween. The numeric year mattered little, but that particular October fell during Caroline’s third year of college.
Feeling uncharacteristically spontaneous, she had booked a trip to New York City. She wanted culture, broadway, Central Park, bars and restaurants. She wanted to stay out all night in the city that never sleeps. She wanted free accommodation on her friend Katherine’s couch.
Caroline would likely never admit it, but the spontaneity was borne from a sudden doubt in herself.
For the previous few years, Caroline diligently and confidently pursued her career as an event planner, a career she was, for all intents and purposes, born to do – gifted as she was with the dual talents of impeccable organisation and deep creativity.
Though, during a recent break-up, an especially frustrated egotist snarled at her how frivolous she was. While Caroline chose not point out the man was was studying finance – another fairly frivolous option in her opinion – and while she knew he snarled this with the intention of hurting her, it did not soften the fact that his accusation did, indeed, hurt her.
It knocked her confidence, and she wondered of another life she could maybe pursue.
Thus decided to try spontaneity on for size.
One week in New York City. In the middle of semester.
It was this turn of events that found Caroline out and about the city, on her very final night there.
Katherine, who had always been blessed with the spontaneity streak, last-minute accepted an invite to an exhibition opening with her newest love-interest, Lucien. They had only been seeing each other for little over three weeks, but as Katherine said he was hot in all areas, and too good to pass up.
Though, not wanting to let her friend down on her last night in town, Katherine wrangled Caroline an invite too. The only catch being Caroline would have to be the plus one of Lucien’s friend from out of town.
This friend was handsome enough, thought he was the funniest man on the planet, and was choppering in from whichever ivy league college he attended especially for the event.
A recipe for him assuming he was god’s gift to Caroline.
God’s gift was actually named Tristian, and she instantly clocked his crazy eyes.
She didn’t want a bar of it.
But she had to have a least a little of the bar.. she was stuck with him for the evening after all.
Her final spontaneous evening…
In the first thirty minutes, Lucien and Kat made a tepid attempt of soothing Caroline and Tristan’s introductions, but before too long they had whisked themselves away from the prying eyes of the exhibition-goers for one reason or another.
Leaving Caroline to try with Tristan.
And Caroline valiantly tried with Tristan.
She really did.
But even her new spontaneous self couldn’t bring herself to care about his self-important boasting about how impressive he was.
She cracked it after the seventh anecdote that heavily featured his Mercedes - for heaven’s sake how many car-stories was she supposed to hear? Luckily for her, an equally vapid looking trust fund bro had joined their duo two yacht-stories ago, so she was hardly missed as she excused herself to freshen up.
Caroline made a determined bee-line for the bathroom - anything to not hear the punchline of a joke containing the words “bottomless grandma in a Ferrari and topless granddaughter in a convertible” - however in her haste she didn’t quite notice the elbow sticking out into her path, and she ran right into it.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Caroline gushed, as she intentionally laid her hand on the upper arm that belonged to the elbow in an attempt to convey her remorse. “I should really watch where I’m going.”
“That you should, love,” the owner of the elbow and upper arm said. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Oh you know, blind date gone bad, there’s only so many cars and trips to Ibiza a girl can hear about before she needs some air,” Caroline rambled, her little giggle bubbling out her lips.
“I can help you find that air if you wish?”
It was at this time when Caroline became fully present to the moment. Her hand was still resting on his upper arm, but suddenly she could feel the material beneath her fingers, and the soft but taut muscle beneath it.
She heard his lilt, English, dripping with promise, softened by the party around them.
She breathed in what she could only guess was his cologne, nothing too fancy or distinct, just enough to have her breathe in again, deeper, just to catch the scent again.
And she rested her eyes on his face. Chiseled and stubbled, puckish lines around twinkling eyes.
It was just taste not present in the moment for her, and as their eyes locked, she batted away the thought that she might get a taste of him.
“You said something about air?” Caroline said, absently, flicking her eyes downward away from his as she dropped her hand from his arm.
As if both felt the loss of connection, the man took a stab at grabbing her hand in his. His hand felt rougher than Caroline’s, as though he used his hands for things she could only imagine. He tugged it slightly and began moving them away from the crowd, toward a passageway marked ‘NO ENTRY’.
The enchantment broke a little at this, spontaneous she was trying to be, but her pathological need to rule-follow kicked in. She couldn’t just abandon her date - even if he was an absolute hum-drum of a person - and there was no way she could flit down a corridor barred from the general public! Was she insane?
“I’m sorry, but I don’t even know you,” she said, stopping in her tracks, limply trying to reclaim her hand. “I’m not going to just follow you down a dark passageway.”
“Follow me, sweetheart and we can get to know each other better,” he said, stroking his thumb over her soft skin.
“Erm no,” Caroline stated, wilfully ignoring how damn good his thumb felt through her body. “You could like human traffic me or something.”
“We’re on the 15th floor of a high rise, love,” he said, snickering. “I don’t think there’s many places for us to go.”
“Hmm, you make a good point,” Caroline said, desperately wanting to follow him.
She bit her lips as she let her eyes meet his.
The knots and butterflies in her stomach indicated keenly that she wanted to keep talking to him, and the look of temptation on his face suggested he wanted that too. She felt the sparks emanating from where their hands were connected, and she knew she wanted to feel sparks emanating from other connection points.
Pushing aside all mannered outgoings, Caroline pulled him a back toward the party, to where she noticed a bench seat earlier.
“You’re going to sit here,” she stated commandingly, as she took her hand back, impressed with how assertive she was being. “I’m going to get us drinks, I’ll be back after that. Maybe you’ll find something that interests you more between now and then, and if so… so be it, I guess.”
With her heart was in her throat, her palms tingling with the phantom of his hand, and all her fingers and toes crossed that he would still be there when she returned, she sprung up and strode away.
For the second time in as many minutes, Caroline was making a bee-line away from a man, though this time she was as if stung by the line of bees, she was just itching to get back.
And back she was, only some minutes later, having swiped a bottle of sparkling wine and a couple of crystal flutes.
“You’re still here,” she said, mostly to herself when he was still waiting for her right where she left him.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice, love,” he smirked, reaching for the bottle, making sure to stroke his fingers along her skin as he did so. “Plus, I thought it rude not to introduce myself.”
He popped the cork on the bottle, with practiced ease.
“I’m Klaus Mikaelson,” he stated, as he began pouring. “And you are?”
“Wait wait wait,” Caroline said, incredulously. “We’re here for you?”
“Whatever might you mean, love,” he said, his smirk widening.
“Isn’t today’s whole art thing for some artist guy named Klaus to debut his latest pieces?”
“There could be more than one Klaus at this whole art thing,” he replied, sardonically.
“Oh yeah right,” Caroline scoffed, that famous foot of hers entering her mouth. “This isn’t some teen supernatural drama show, it’s not likely there’s another Klaus here.”
“Are you insulting the name my mother chose for me?” he asked in mock affront, finding it wildly entertaining to see her suddenly squirm.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean… I just sort of meant…” she stammered. “I mean I guess this is New York, what do I know about New York. Heck, what would I know about art people…”
She trailed off, a light flush spreading across her bare shoulders. It was delightful.
“Relax, love,” he chuckled. “I am the only Klaus here, as far as I know.”
She batted at him with the spare arm, but seemed to relax.
“So, Klaus, how did you get yourself such a fancy art show?” Caroline asked, settling in next to him, a little closer than she would normally have dared.
“No so fast, love,” he replied. “You still didn’t introduce yourself.”
“I didn’t, did I?” Caroline pondered. “Maybe you haven’t earned it yet?”
“You wound me,” he said, taking a big sip of sparkling, if only to hide his even bigger smile. “How may I earn your name?”
“We’ll see.”
And with that began a night Caroline would never forget, and one she’d relay and replay many times.
It was a whirl-wind really.
She learned about his art, that his name was short for Niklaus, and that he had a deep attraction for kisses peppered along his neck.
In turn he learned Caroline’s favourite place in the whole world was the waterfall near where she grew up, that she desperately wanted to visit Italy, and that she adored having her name whispered in her ear.
They shared drinks at his favourite bar, shawarma at a little place Caroline had grown very quickly attached to, and more kisses than either of them could ever have dreamed of wanting.
They stayed out until hir phone battery died, and her phone received a check-in message from Katherine asking why she hadn’t made it home.
They giggled in the cab on the way to his place, telling the driver they were celebrating their engagement that night. They giggled some more from his couch a little while later as they spoke about celebrating their real engagement for real one day.
But all too soon the sun was risen, and spontaneous Caroline’s alarm was buzzing, signalling reality’s time was only a few hours away, as was her flight home.
“Let me come to the airport with you,” he said, pushing her hair back from her face as she nestled into his strong arms, wishing she never had to leave. “We can stop by your friend’s house for you things on the way.”
Caroline had no strength to argue, willing to spend every moment she could with him.
Klaus waited down on the street as Caroline rushed her packing and her farewell to Katherine.
Katherine’s lewd gestures regarding the night she just had were not too far from the reality, and Caroline burned with pride as Katherine praised her capriciousness.
Klaus and Caroline whispered more sweet nothings to each other as the cab battled the NYC traffic to JFK, and then whispered declarations close to love as Caroline’s flight was called.
The last promise made before Caroline took her hand back from him for the last time was we will meet again, however long it takes.
Though as both of them settled back in to the lives that were so separate from each other, things just seemed to just get in the way.
Caroline had finals.
Klaus was working to a deadline.
Caroline had to go home for Christmas.
Klaus had a wedding in LA.
Caroline got a new job.
Klaus was offered a residency.
Their calls waned, the time between texts stretched out to years.
And their second meeting became just an idea lost to circumstance.
///
After hearing the words “you always meet twice in life” Caroline side-eyed creating her own fate for her second meeting with Klaus, though she never quite managed turning to face the idea fully.
So time jauntily skipped on, as it it known to do, and the story of Caroline and Klaus remained shelved for three more years.
It was October again, and Caroline had flown to New Orleans for Halloween, as she was once again feeling as though her life was a little stale.
One of her work friends was slated to take the trip with her, however had been called away for a family emergency only a couple of days before they were due to fly.
Caroline had ummed and ahhed about whether to take the trip alone or just stay home, but ultimately decided going was obviously the only reasonable course of action.
It was Caroline’s second night there, as she found herself getting lost in the throngs of the French Quarter. The street, teeming with life and music and joy, was making Caroline feel alive.
Only a couple of hurricanes later, and she found herself at an open swing dancing class in one bars just off Bourbon Street, a live band accompanying.
As one of the songs finished up, and Caroline decided it was about time to vacate the dance floor for her next drink. However, as she went to leave, she felt a hand on her upper arm.
“Maybe I should watch where I’m going, love,” an English voice whispered into her ear.
Caroline turned and her eyes locked instantly with his, the rest of the world falling away.
“Klaus,” she breathed.
“Caroline,” he replied. “May I have this next dance?”
The exuberant smile that split Caroline’s face was answer enough as he took her hand and gave her a twirl, before pulling her close.
“I can’t believe we finally made it work,” Caroline tinkled, as they swayed to-and-fro. “After all this time.”
“Let’s never let it be this long again,” he replied, a promise in his voice.
The rest of Caroline’s trip saw her living her life at Klaus’ side, in a way that felt as right as it did their very first time meeting.
Klaus lived in New Orleans these days, Caroline learned.
Caroline was in the market for a change of pace, Klaus learned.
When they parted at the airport this time some four days later, there was a solidified time and place of their next meeting and that change Caroline was looking for had been discussed in depth.
Years, and many perfect days together, later, Caroline would look back on that second time meeting her husband, and would be so grateful that the distance left after their first meeting had not been foreshadowing.
And she would look back so very grateful that those words came true for her and Klaus.
You always meet twice in life.