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She'd been treating him like he was something fragile since he came back from Narnia. It had affected her more than she'd particularly wanted it to, even if she didn't realise it. Still, she was just careful, not raising her voice, not really talking back the way that she would have normally, asking if he was alright, bringing him blood-- Just those things that were ingrained that were Caroline Forbes is taking care of you. Any time it came to arguments, she ended up changing the subject or acquiecing-- which was obviously the sort of thing that was very unlike her.

And, unsurprisingly, Klaus didn't exactly appreciate it. Since she didn't realise she was doing it, she reacted badly to his looks that clearly said not to take care of him-- and she didn't know if it was because he didn't remember how sick he was, or how hard it was; she was constantly in a state of alertness because of it, and crabby besides, so when she sat cross-legged on the couch in the observation room and asked him how he was feeling, the look she got finally made her explode. "Okay, look, what the heck is your problem? I'm just being nice." And she's sort of on pins and needles, looking at him with furrowed brows and a frown.

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"You're not being nice, Caroline, you're being careful and protective and... motherly," Klaus finishes with a twist of his lips that shows exactly how happy he is to have to use that adjective in relation to her.

He let it go at first, because he realises that he'd frightened her, but he has been hoping that it would go away with time. He can be patient about some things, and a few weeks is not that long a time, but it simply gets on his nerves. He does his best not to snap, but he's never been very good at hiding his irritation. He's never really tried before, actually.

Caroline's glaring at him when he says she's not being nice, because she's still tense about it, because she's had dreams about it, and it was just terrifying and she's doing what she needs too. "I'm- I'm not. So just calm down, okay? I'm not. Believe me, last thing that I'm being is motherly." And there's something in her eyes that's sort of guilt along with the anger, because maybe she's been doing it a little that she notices, but she doesn't realise just how much she's been doing it.

"It was either that or smothering, to be honest, so if I were you, I'd pick the lesser of two evils," Klaus assures her, in a murmur, and turns back to the drawing he's working on. It's of three of the wolves in his pack, his three strongest betas. He wonders whether Cadin or Jakor is most likely to have succeeded him, now that he's gone.

Before she can get annoyed, however, verbally that is, he keeps talking, listing what it is she's been doing. "You ask me how I am every few hours, you keep bringing me things, you won't ever have an argument with me anymore - I'm sincerely hoping we're about to break that last trend, at least. And you keep looking at me as if I might just drop dead any second, which isn't ever happening, love," he reminded her, glancing at her before focusing back on his sketch.

She's sitting on the bench, her knees pulled up in front of her, and she's scowling, the displeasure getting clearer with every word from him. She was tensing up, because she hated having that pulled in her face. "I just-" And she frowned. "Sorry I care," she said, and it's half anger and half fear for him that's on her face, because she doesn't want to think about how bad it was, and how scared she'd been.

She'd told him it was fine, when he asked what it had been like. Hard, but they'd made it-- but she'd not taken it nearly as well as she's said. "Just- I guess I'll stop being nice. Okay? I'll just stop being nice, because clearly that's a problem for you. I'll stop worrying about you." Which clearly she wouldn't, but she'd do anything to just stop this conversation in it's tracks.

"Stop reacting so obtusely, Caroline," Klaus told her, and there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice. "Don't apologise for caring." She was much smarter than that, and she knew better than to think he would fall for that, and back off. "You want to know how I am, now you have a true answer. If you want to talk about it, we can. If you don't, stop asking unless you want that truth to come out each time."

"Just stop," she said as she shifted, her own voice rising to meet the steel in his. "Do you have any idea just how hard it was? Do you? I dream about it, okay? I dream about how- you have no idea. Okay? It's horrible." She stared at him. "It was horrible. It was horrible, and I was terrified, and I keep thinking about it. Because you and I are on different pages with stuff, and you're the only person I have, and I love you, and I don't want to go through that whole thing again."

She swallowed thickly. "So, I'll stop. I'll stop asking how you are, or bringing you things, or looking at you like you're going to drop dead, since obviously we're arguing, so congratulations."

By the time she congratulates him, he's already smiling, and when she does he chuckles, and leans over to drop a quick kiss on her lips. Simple affection, really. "Thank you, love. I've missed you."

But he doesn't miss that there is some things she said he ought to take seriously, and he puts his sketch aside to focus on her. His whole body language says that, the way he's slightly leaning towards her, and his hand reaches for one of hers. "I don't have any idea, Caroline, because you kept pretending that it was all fine. If you want me to push you when you pretend, you have to let me know, and I will, when I notice it. Otherwise I'll let you get to it in your own time."

She stares at him, her brows furrowed even as he takes her hand. The kiss had left her looking vaguely surprised, but then he'd told her that she was pretending and it made her look away. "You were too sick," she said softly. "You were too sick for me to talk about me, Klaus. And- And I mean, if I'd just kept myself-- You didn't think it was a big deal, and that it was stupid for me to think something could have happened, so, I mean-"

She looks down at where he's holding her hand. "I can't lose somebody else right now, okay? I mean, Elena and Bonnie have probably gotten on with their lives, whatever, but my dad just died, you know? And- and I don't care how you feel about me, but I love you, and-" And she's not looking at him, her face twisting more and more into misery, even though she'd just sort of stopped in the middle of a sentence.

"Caroline," he tells her, and waits until she's looking at him, helping her do just that by cupping her cheek with his free hand, and making sure she looks up, at least, and in the right direction. "It was withdrawal, not cancer. I'll never get cancer, or anything else. There's no white oak here. There's one thing you can be certain of - I will not die."

His thumb is stroking her cheekbone before he slides his hand down, moving his other one as well to pull her close - into his lap, if she wants, and otherwise just close, into his arms, and he kisses her hair. "I'm not leaving you, love."

"But you don't know that," she whispers, letting him pull her into his lap. "You don't know if you'll die or not. These aren't our worlds, you know? Normal rules do not apply. What if you're ability to not-die is dropped just like everything else?" And her eyes search his, her brows furrowed, her voice cracking as she speaks earnestly. "I dream of it. Of you dying, and-" And it kills her inside. "I don't want to argue with you," she admits then. "All I can think is that something could happen, that I could have done something that could have stopped it, if something happens, or- I don't want us to not be speaking-" Both of them. Things could happen to both of them, and she was having a problem with mortality, because the sickness-- withdrawal or no -- was making her think about it when she had already decided that it wouldn't be something to worry about for her, once she'd turned.

"You've made your feelings for me very clear, love," he tells her softly. "Let's say for the sake of argument that I can die. Even if we've just fought, I'll know. And I'm not going to take any risks. That's the best I can give you, and you have to make your peace with that."

There wasn't anything more that he could do, other than talk to her, reassure her. The actual work would be hers.

"Promise me," she says, her voice low, even though everything she's ever said to him that's begun with those words has ended badly, and she's asked him something like this before, but it's different, now - either because she's given up, maybe, or because she'll take what she can get. "Promise that no matter when it is, even if we're- even if something's happened to me, if you and I aren't together, or we are or anything, you'll remember that now existed, and-" She can't ask him to acknowledge that he knows she loves him, and that's why she stops, and shakes her head. "Nevermind," she says softly, and it's that awkward smile that does mean that she's avoiding, that she's burying what she wants to say.

Some day, she'll not do it with him, anymore. He already gets it far less than Elena and Bonnie and particularly her mother did. Instead, she just nods. "I'll make my peace," she says, and it's not really helping much, but it's something to at least start from.

"I'll promise if it makes it easier for you," he answers, unsure why she stopped mid-sentence. He wouldn't forget that this, that they had existed for the world (but for a very good spell, probably). "I don't need to promise to do it, though."

She shakes her head, her gentle fingers brushing the hair from his face. "I know, you'll just remember what happened," she said quietly. "Like, so, there's no real point in me- so it's okay." She licked her lips, and tried to find the right words even though they seemed like they wouldn't come. "I know I can't stop it, if something happens. So, there's not really any reason for me to freak out, I know that." She stared into his eyes for a long moment.

"I thought, before, if you vanish and go back to where you left off, you must not remember, since I saw you after." Unless that was why he'd saved her life. "I'm just- I'm scared, okay? It was scary, and I can't do anything to stop it." And there's a part of her that wonders if he'd be this upset if something happened to her, and she doesn't think he would-- and why would he? She would be a tiny speed bump in his life, four months out of a thousand years. And she's just scared of forgetting, of being forgotten, of it being preventable and her not having done it.

She looks away again, and swallows thickly. "You're not done drawing, are you?" Because usually he finished drawing, and they'd both go back to their room.

"I can be done if you'd rather we talked about this somewhere where we aren't quite so likely to get walked in on," Klaus offers, turning to grab his sketches from beside him on the couch. He is, of course, not moving yet, since Caroline is in his lap.

That's not really what she'd meant by that. She'd not meant so we can talk about this elsewhere, she'd meant so we're done talking about this, right? but still, she shifts out of his lap. "Just if you want to go," she says quietly, and she reacts badly to stuff like this, to honesty when she's not prepared for it, and it's making her be on edge worse than usual.

"I can just try to stop doing that stuff," she said, as a sort of compromise, one that makes it so she can slide back to saying she's okay, as long as she's trying to stop.

"And we can just worry about the symptoms and let your fear fester," Klaus mock-agrees, although he actually sounds perfectly serious. He's got up and he pulls Caroline to him for a kiss, his free hand on her hip. It's a promise of a kiss, really, and not the kind that promises sex. He keeps close to her afterwards, intimate. "But they're your fears. If you want to keep your head buried in the sand, you'll be the most beautiful ostrich I know, and that'll be that."

It's a thing. Given the kind of thing Caroline has called him out on, Klaus has made it a point, since this started, to give her choices.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, staring up at him once he pulled back from the kiss, her brows furrowed. "I don't want to be- You know I don't...." She trailed off.

"I have nightmares," she admitted, staring up at him. "I... Let's go home. We can talk, I... I need-" And she wasn't really making a lot if sense, which is why she stepped back and moved to head to thier room even before he did, because she was worrying. Shock.

Klaus followed suit, catching her hand on the way and threading their fingers together. If she looked at him then, he even went as far as to raise their linked hands to press a kiss to her fingers.

Once in their room, he dropped paper and pencil on his desk and pulled her back to him, kissing her long and deep, hands cupping her face. "Now," he told her, letting take a seat where she wanted. "Tell me about your nightmares."

That was as good a starting point as any.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, leaning up into the kiss until she took a half-step back and sighing softly, her eyes dark with worry as she looked away, perched on the end of his bed-- or, maybe, their bed.

"You die," she says first, her voice low. "Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, you hate me, and-" She's looking down at the comforter. "Sometimes, you beg for me to help you. And I can't do it. But usually you just tell me that it's happening and there's nothing I can do." And that's how her father died, and it was why she clenched her hands tightly in her lap, only glancing back up at him at the very end.

If only it was as easy to walk in her dreams now as it would have been back home, Klaus wished. Not because it would have been a simple solution to a complicated problem, but because working on her dreams could have helped her deal with it all. Klaus had seen the birth of modern psychology, and he was in no way an expert, but he had read a few things in his time. Met a few famous psychologists, while he was at it.

"And you've been fighting this feeling," Klaus guessed, as he came to sit beside her. Not too close, so it would not be smothering, but close enough that she could easily reach for him if she wanted to.

She shrugged even as she shook her head. "It's not--" She licked her lips, clearing her throat. "It's not something I can do anything about, I mean, it's a dream. It's- Sometimes, it's their fault, you know? Elena and Stefan and Bonnie, and I should have done something, but I didn't know, and you think I did. You think that I knew and that I helped them. And-" And there's been a lot of them, and she's just been hiding them from him, and that's not really a way to foster trust, but then again she's also been hiding them from herself, as much as she can wake up, shake it off, and not think about it again.

"It's not like you can magic them away, you know?" She said it softly, and she's not looking at him again, but she reaches for his hand and entwines their fingers, staring at where they twined together. "And I can ask you now that you not think I'll do that, but I know you won't. I know you won't promise that, because you don't know what the future would be like, even though I wouldn't- I wouldn't let them do that. I wouldn't let them try to hurt you or your family." She was insisting, and that's when she looked up at him, her eyes intense.

"That just means they'd do it behind your back, love," he points out, eyebrows raised as he looks her in the eye. "But that's... not what I meant." Much as he hopes it will, one day, be a relevant conversation to have, because they will be back home. He can't stand the thought of staying here forever, or of never seeing his family again.

"I didn't mean have you been trying to fight so I don't die, I meant have you been trying to fight this feeling of helplessness, and loss?" he rephrases, and hopes it makes more sense this time.

"Of course I have," she said quietly. "I mean, what I'm I supposed to do? I can't - it's not something that I'm- if I don't try, then what can I do? This isn't what - you didn't know, so... It just had to stop." She pulled in a breath, her fingers tightening on his.

"I think," he tells her gently, his thumb stroking the fingers clinging so tight to his, "that you might want to try and accept it, instead. Not that it will happen, because it won't," he assures her again. She might not be certain of it, but he is. "But that in that case, this is how you would feel. Accept that you can't save me in your nightmares. Accept that you can't control it all."

Said by the greatest of control freaks, and Klaus is well aware of that, but he isn't plagued with nightmares. Well. Only when he is in withdrawal, apparently.