Chapter Text
For once in a lifetime, Klaus woke up fresh. No headache, no emptiness in his guts. His vision was steady, furniture stationary and not swimming around in waves in front of his eyes. The blankets were heavy, the bed was comfortable, albeit a bit short for his current height, and Klaus just really wanted to stay there. Yes, he hated this house, and swore to never step in it again many, many years ago, but now… Now that dear old Dad kicked the bucket, Apocalypse was averted and everything settled peacefully between the siblings, Klaus could admit that the house lost its bite. He also liked to have a bed to sleep in, if he would be frank.
“Its 3 p.m., Klaus, go get some food” rang the soft voice of Ben, whose ghostly form sat on Klaus’ desk. Klaus only mumbled something incoherent as an answer, burying himself deeper into the blanket and its warmth. He was about to drift off again, catching up on all the sleep he missed out throughout the years, when a heavy object fell on the bed, hitting Klaus on his chest through the protective shield of the blankets.
He unraveled his cocoon, only to find some old book laying on him and Ben smirking from his place at the table. Smug little shit decided to use his newfound ability to interact with the living in the worst ways possible: by annoying the hell out of Klaus. He could never stay mad long, though - he loved his brother and forgave all his faults.
But Ben won’t forgive him the fault of sleeping in late, so Klaus curses him softly as he untangles his long limbs form the bed, falling to floor in the process. Ben is laughing, and the glint in his eyes tells Klaus that he will never, ever live this down but he won’t let his brother enjoy his fall from grace for much longer. So he stands up, dresses himself half-way decently and walks out of his room, ignoring Ben’s jabs as much as he can.
He walks down the large staircase, intending to visit the kitchen first, but he wanted to see if anyone else was in the house right now. Most of Hargreeves siblings left the nest again - Allison went to her family, Luther moved out in search of independence. Diego visited sometimes, but he would mostly hang out with Mom (which did not stop Klaus from harassing him at any opportunity). Vanya, well, she didn’t want anything to do with this house, it seems. So it was mostly him, Ben, and Five, who seemed content with living in this house and ignore all negativity that surrounded it.
Klaus felt the heat of the sun even through the painted glass of hallway windows as the rays shone down his pale skin. His steps echoed dully against the stairs as he continued his way down. He was still sleepy, and very, very hungry, which would make sense since slept for 12 hours and did not have a particularly satisfying dinner. But he wanted to annoy Five just a bit before raiding the fridge, so he turned towards the living room, newfound spring in his step. Little old man preferred to stay in the big chair most of the day, jotting down equations in a new notebook each day. Klaus found that strangely adorable.
“How does my favorite little brother is...” he asks as he walks into the room, but the last word dies on his tongue. His legs suddenly feel unsteady and his shoulders tense, and all that sleepy warm gone in an instant.
His brother was sitting in his chair surrounded by dozens and dozens of ghosts. The filled the room almost to the brink, waiting to spill over, their sunken faces all turned to Five.
“Klaus?”
There were so many of them, they packed the room and turned the air around stale, ashy taste landing on Klaus’ tongue as he swallowed down his rising fear. The figures - old and young, of all appearances and time periods possible, - were unmoving, almost like statues, they didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, the dead don’t need to breathe, Klaus-
“Klaus?..”
They all turned to him, suddenly, rotting eyes wide. He expected them to start reaching for him like so many others did, but they didn’t move again, only stared and stared and stared-
“Hello, Klaus?”
“Huh?” Klaus says blinking rapidly (the ghosts won’t go away, they are still here, still watching), his gaze now turned towards five. His little older brother is looking at him something like suspicion, almost concern, in his dark eyes. He is sitting in his chair, as he did in the beginning, but now there was a cup of coffee in his hand instead of a pen, the notebook down in his lap.
Ben was standing next to Klaus, concerned and protective, but Klaus couldn’t focus on him.
“You were going to ask me something, if you can recall?” Five asks again, his impatience creeping in his tone. The suspicion-concern however didn’t leave his face, brows furrowed and eyes gleaming dangerously. Eyes of a killer, Klaus realizes quite belatedly.
Klaus would love to hang with Five, really, but the ghosts won’t leave, so Klaus will have to.
“I was gonna ask you about your definitely busy day, but since you’re clearly doing important life-or-death work in that little book of yours, I will just… be on my merry way” he says, rushed and impatient to get out, to weary to notice the growing suspicion radiating from Five.
Klaus’ strides were longer than usual as he hurried to the kitchen to get that oh-so-needed breakfast as soon as possible so he could take a long, long walk afterwards. Just to clear his head.
There was a sudden sound next to him and blue glow illuminated the hallway for a fraction of a second, and now Five was right next to him, keeping up with his fast pace without blink.
“Jesus Christ- what do you want, shorty?” Klaus exclaims, keeping his eyes front even as he saw multiple human-shaped shadows moving along the walls. Five’s eyes squinted as a frown on his face deepened, ready to be replaced with a condescending scowl.
“Make another comment about my height and I will put your head through the wall,” Five threatened lowly as two brothers entered the kitchen space. Klaus immediately headed towards the fridge, opening it hastily, eyes searching for anything halfway edible.
“Something is up with you” Five states, not even bothering to phrase it as a question. Klaus doesn’t look at him.
“Oh, me? I’m just peachy. Now why don’t you skedaddle and do whatever kids do these days, hm?” Klaus said, irritated, eyes still scanning the fridge, though at this point he just needed and excuse to not look anywhere in vicinity of Five.
Another ‘pop’ accompanied by a moment of bright blue, and Five was right next to him, his features lighted by the light in the fridge.
“What is wrong with you?” Five growled out, his hands in the pockets of the shorts. Klaus didn’t even look at him.
‘What is wrong with you, huh? I thought you didn’t waste your time on useless things, anyway,” Klaus retorts bitter now. He wanted to just leave, and at this point being rude and mean to Five didn’t bother him as much as the shadows looming behind, countless and countless dead filling the room.
Five seemed to be taken aback for a second since his reply did not come immediately. Maybe, just maybe, he would leave and take all of these dead people - all of his victims, oh god, - and leave Klaus alone.
“You are not useless,” Five finally declares, stoic as ever, and it catches Klaus off guard enough that he can’t stop himself from looking at his brother.
A mistake, really.
There a tall woman behind Five, taller than Klaus himself, clothed into World War II nurse uniform. Blood goes down from her lips all the way to her chin and covering her neck, her blank, grey eyes stare Five down. There are tear streaks on her cheeks mixed with grime and blood. Her bloodied hands twitch, as if she wants to reach out, but won’t.
There is a hole in her chest.
“Klaus?” Five again pulls Klaus attention away, but only for a second. Just as Five called his name, the nurse’s eyes snapped to Klaus. And he couldn’t look away, just couldn’t there was desperation in these eyes, and fuck, Klaus seen something akin to this in the faces of his fellow soldiers in Vietnam, hell, the mirror graced him with the same look on more than one occasion.
He can’t ignore this, so he won’t.
Instead, he speaks.
“What’s your name?” he asks, throat dry. Five looks confused, but doesn’t have a chance to interrupt.
“Lizzy. Lizzy James” said the nurse, her cold-blue lips forming words agonizingly slow, like she forgot how to speak.
“Lizzy James,” he repeats, and then looks down. Confusion on Five’s face was quickly replaced with growing understanding. To his credit, he didn’t go pale or scared. He just looked tired, tired enough to finally look old enough for his age.
“Oh,” is all he says. Klaus just nods.
The room grows silent.
And then, Five leaves with a ‘pop’ and a glow.
The ghosts leave with him.