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“I didn’t want to die!”
He turned away, his eyes squeezed shut while he fumbled at the lid with increasing desperation.
“I didn’t mean to do it, I never meant to hurt those kids.”
He shook as the plastic gave way under his hands, the tremors moving through his whole body and doing nothing to help his nerves.
“Why won’t you help me? Look at me! LOOK AT ME!”
Klaus refused to acknowledge the bloody figure standing in the corner, but he did throw his head back as he downed the rest of the pills in the bottle. It was too many, far too many, but he couldn’t bear to see the sight of that man and his--
Klaus felt his chest begin to burn as the world around him turned cold. When he opened his eyes, the specter was still there wailing but no sound passed through his agape lips. Klaus wanted to cheer, it’d been so long since he had silence, except that he couldn’t feel his tongue and his body was swaying violently to the right. He felt his skull crack against the wall though he couldn’t be bothered to care. Is this it? He asked himself, feeling oddly giddy. Will I finally be free? He didn’t want to die, he just wanted to stop seeing the dead. Stop hearing the dead, stop thinking about the dead. That was all. Too late to fix that now.
His eyes rolled back as he started to convulse on his bedroom floor, the overdose taking control of his body. Klaus was just slipping away from consciousness when he heard a voice, so faint and muddled that he was sure he was underwater and drowning in some great ocean.
“Hey Klaus have you seen my- Klaus? Klaus!”
A feather light touch grazed his forehead, and then he knew no more.
-
He didn’t wake up to the bright, white lights of a hospital- nor did he expect to- and he was unsurprised by the feeling of hard wood on his back. Sir Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t big on asking anyone for medical help, nor was he too concerned with the comfort of his patients. Klaus was, however, shocked to be waking up at all. The last thing he recalled was receiving death’s sweet kiss and winking out of existence, all thanks to a ghost who just wouldn’t leave him alone. For weeks he had been tormented by the remains of a man who had, in his attempt to say goodbye to the mortal world, blew up not only his apartment but the one next door as well... and the three little residents inside. He had fortunately not seen the children, but this man’s confusion and grief was enough to drive Klaus insane. He’d be there on missions, when he ate, when he was in the shower. The only release had been drugs. And if staying sane meant getting high, he would do it without a second thought. Look where it’s got me, he mentally chided himself.
Klaus blinked up at the ceiling, hating the pain in his stomach but enjoying the silence that encircled him. Sweet, sobering silence. He made a move to swipe some stray hairs from his face and enjoy whatever moments of peace he had left in solitude... something he couldn’t do because his hand refused to rise with his arm. He bolted upright and realized that he was cuffed to the table, trapped and struggling against the metal.
“Number Four.”
He froze, the voice sending chills down his spine. Oh no.
“D-dad,” Klaus bit out, forcing his body to stay still. Adopted dad Klaus thought bitterly in the back of his mind. Hargreeves approached the table at a painstakingly slow pace, the sound of cane and foot striking the ground made Klaus bite his lip to stop from whimpering. He didn’t know about the drugs-- well, he knew now. No doubt everyone would know now. It wasn’t a secret per-say, but if anyone thought that his habit was dangerous they had kept their mouths shut. Except, Klaus just did something that inadvertently forced action, forced discipline. He started to quietly regret living through this endeavor.
“I must say that I’m shocked by what you tried to do, Number Four,” Reginald stood at his right side, staring down at the shivering teen with unforgiving eyes, “I thought you were better than that.”
“I d-didn’t mean to do it! There was this ghost and…” Klaus trailed off, unable to keep track of his thoughts under the harsh glare of his caretaker. He wanted to defend himself, blame the man next to him for what he had to resort to in order to cope with everything wrong in his life, but found that all the air in the world couldn’t help him catch his breath. His palms opened and closed, grasping at nothing, wishing he had someone to grab onto in the midst of his panic. Reginald made no move to comfort him, just watched with his ancient intensity as the boy he was supposed to raise floundered for relief.
“Number One never has these kinds of outbursts. He knows that what he does affects the whole team. I can’t believe you would be so selfish as to turn to these,” he let a hiss escapes his lips as one gloved hand pulled out a small bag of powder from his jacket pocket. Klaus unconsciously jerked forward, as if making a move to grab it, but the cuffs held him back. He settled on leaning his head forward, trying to hide his craving. “Your siblings can’t have a teammate who is too busy getting high to help them on a mission. That’s unreliable and weak. You’ll have to sober up,” without waiting for a response, he started striding towards the door of the chamber. Klaus felt hysteria grip his heart- being alone meant facing his thoughts, meant no one to distract him from the ghosts. No drugs to distract him from the phantoms, the man with burns consuming his whole body. Pity wouldn’t work on Hargreeves, but Klaus opened his mouth anyways.
“Wait, wait-- wait! Hold on… you’re right, you’re so right I’m absolutely pathetic but look I’m fine, I’m not going to compromise your little missions or anything so if you could maybe,” he licked his dry, caking lips, willing the sweat to stop dripping into his eyes, “let me out of here. Take off these cuffs. I mean, r-really? Cuffs? This isn’t one of Allison’s romance novels,” Klaus winced at the tasteless joke, but found himself unable to stop rambling, “I’m sure Ben is worried about me, he needs me. I-I need him right now. Please. Please?”
Reginald stopped at the door, his back turned to the scrambling youth. He was silent for a moment, and the room seemed to darken with anticipation.
“I’m doing this for your own good, Number Four,” he stated in a softer voice, and with that he stepped out of the door and let the oak close with a solid thunk behind him.
“DAD!” He yelled after him, surprised by the desperation behind the word but not caring about the implication.
Klaus didn’t like the feeling of being stuck. He didn’t like the way that this room and these handcuffs reminded him of his time stuck inside the walls of a mausoleum, haunted and terrified. He didn’t want to scream-- but for the moment, it seemed like all he could do.
“BEN!” He shouted towards the high point of the ceiling, his legs moving him up into a seated position. “ALLISON! DIEGO! Anyone… anyone!”
Reginald wanted him to go cold-turkey. To stop what he had started just a few weeks ago. But Klaus was already addicted. And now he was going through withdrawal.
His pulse was thready, he was thirsty, his whole body seemed to be twisted into one giant cramp. Klaus wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his stomach, but even that small comfort was stripped from him. This is not what he needed. This would not help/
The room, though dimly lit, was still too bright for his dilated eyes. He felt sick. He was craving something.
What did he need?
Who did he need?
“Ben,” he found himself coughing out of his sore throat. His brother. His best friend. He needed the biggest glass of water and Ben at his side.
And cocaine his withdrawal brain cooed.
Shut up came the response from his sober brain that’s what got you here in the first place.
It also stopped us from seeing that .
Klaus opened his eyes to see a disfigured face hovering directly over his own. He knew it wasn’t possible, but he swore he could feel the burns as if they had been inflicted directly on his own body. The man dripped pieces of himself like candle wax, bits of flesh sizzling into nothing as soon as they went airborne. Klaus couldn’t think of anything to do besides stay very, very still. While earlier Reginald’s eyes bore a hole through him, this man instead seemed to not even see him through a glassy sheen, acting as if he was lost in some troubling memory. Klaus held his breath and stared as the ghost withdrew into the corner of the room, not daring to look away and risk being caught off guard. He had nothing left in him, no more drugs to keep the monsters at bay. Worse yet, he knew that if there was one, there were sure to be more the longer he went without some relief. What did he do before the drugs? He shut his watery eyes, trying to pull a comforting memory from his disturbed childhood.
“B-Ben they won’t leave me alone. I hate them, I hate them- I can’t keep doing this,” a six year old Klaus curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest. Today, a woman with no tongue had choked on her own blood trying to tell him something. He felt useless. He felt scared.
He jerked as a hand came down on his shoulder, but the hand didn’t pull away. An arm wrapped around his chest and he was suddenly in the embrace of his brother. He pushed his head against Ben’s shoulder and sobbed. Ben knew what is was like to be hate the power you’d been given- he hated what he was, what he was capable of. He wanted to convey to Klaus how much he understood, but couldn’t find the words. He was too young. Instead, he tried to cheer him up.
“I bet if we asked Grace she’d make us cookies. And I’ll ask Allison to paint your nails- whaddya say, Klaus?”
Despite himself, Klaus smiled. And when he opened his eyes, he didn’t see a single disfigured spirit, just the kind face of his brother.
Now when Klaus opened his eyes, all that greeted him was pain-- there was no Ben in sight. But recalling a simpler time made him slow his breathing, take back some control over his situation, and when he risked a glance to the corner: he saw a shadow and nothing more.
Maybe you should sleep his sober brain reasoned, temporarily the only other voice in his head. He wished he could listen to it, because he was so utterly exhausted from fighting, but he was too paranoid. He feared that if he slept, he would wake up in a state worse than how we was now. Besides, he didn’t believe he could even fall asleep with his body in such a state: his wrists raw and bleeding from the cuffs, his abdomen screaming in agony.
“This would be so much easier if I had a mattress,” he muttered to himself, his back cracking as he tried to lay flat on the wooden table, “hope Dad can handle a son- adopted son- with early onset scoliosis.”
Klaus was tired, anxious, nauseous, and ached with such an intensity it felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. But he was starting to believe he could get through it. Maybe Sober-Klaus would be able to joke with Diego again, maybe Sober-Klaus would be accepted by Luther. Maybe he’d speak with Vanya more, tell Allison thank you for the lip smackers and the magazines, maybe even try to find Five. Maybe he’d never again see that look in Ben’s eyes like when he first caught Klaus stealing pills. Maybe-
“Have you seen my mommy?” A soft voice to his right jolted him out of his daydreaming. Hesitantly and with great trepidation, he turned his head to the side and swallowed a scream that immediately started building in his damaged throat. A little girl no older than five gazed at Klaus with teary green eyes, holding out her hand as if wanting him to hold it. That wasn’t what scared him.
She only had one hand. The left half of her body was unrecognizable and disgustingly damaged, so charred and so far beyond blistered that it wasn’t even human. She radiated heat in such a horrible manner that Klaus felt sick, like he was going to be roasted alive by her very presence. It was easy to see that once she had been adorable-- but the tufts of blonde hair and patches of fair skin gave no justice to who she once was.
Klaus knew immediately that this was one of the three children the arsonist had been raving about. And if she was there…
He twitched violently, trying to suppress his worsening hysteria as he shifted to his other side and came face to face with two little boys who matched the girl in gruesome appearance.
“Have you seen our dad?” They spoke in unison, and if this had happened anywhere else Klaus might have cracked a joke about how creepy twins can be. But he was losing his grip on what control he had previously developed, and in addition to the specters of the ruined children, the shadow in the corner started to flicker back into recognition. Through the haze that was his fever, Klaus still knew that if that man saw the kids, nothing good could happen. He curled his hands into fists and fought to look the boys in the eyes.
“H-hey, could you,” he was so thirsty , he coughed through his words, “could you go over to your sister please?” Get as far away as possible from that wall, from him , Klaus thought as waves of consternation crashed down on him. He didn’t have much time and he didn’t want everything to fall apart right now when he might be so close to getting of there. Reginald may be heartless, but he wasn’t an idiot and even he would have to send in someone eventually. And when that happened, Klaus wanted to show he was ready to leave. If he was arguing with spirits and shaking uncontrollably, Reginald would likely leave him in there for God knows how much longer. Despite all of Klaus’ justifications, part of him also wanted to help these kids. He just didn’t know how: another curse of his power. Ghosts reaching out desperately needing his help and he had no way to provide it.
The two boys held hands and mutely walked over to their sister, who reluctantly put her outstretched arm down. Klaus propped himself up on his elbows despite the twisting pain in his gut, leaning his body towards the siblings. Fuck it , he thought.
“What can I do to help you?” He whispered, trying not to think about the glitching shadow.
“I want my mommy,” she pouted, her foot stomping the ground and eliciting a sharp noise. Klaus tensed, hoping that that action hadn’t just disturbed the room’s delicately held peace.
“What’re your names?” He asked, trying to shift the conversation to something less distressing.
“I’m Cara. I’m the oldest, I’m gonna be six soon. That’s Tom and that’s Henry. They don’t talk much but mommy says they’ll be talking a lot like me when they’re my age,” the little girl, Cara, shifted from shoe to melted shoe. Klaus could sense she was getting antsy, antsy meant noisy and noisy meant alerting the enemy. He racked his brain trying to think of something he could do.
“Cara, that’s a pretty name... H-have you thought about going to find your parents? I don’t think they’re here.” He tried to reason with her, get her to leave on her own volition, but her face screwed up with tears.
“We can’t leave. I’ve been walking and walking for so long and I always come back to a place I’ve never seen. I’m scared, I want my mommy why can’t you find my mommy!” She let out a whine from the back of her throat, which made her little brothers cry. Klaus saw stars as his mind began to panic.
“Shhh, shhh wait stop I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t do that. Please stay quiet-”
“I didn’t want to hurt them… just let me see them, let me see them, ” Klaus didn’t need to turn to know who was standing at his back. The children began bawling as they saw the disfigured man eyeing them with a mixture of guilt and rage, hiding behind Klaus who was helpless to do anything at all. Klaus found himself snapping, weeks of pent up aggression and grief cracking out of him.
“No! No, you don’t get to do anything! I’m tired of you, just go away-- go away! You were mad at the world and you took it out on the wrong people and now you have to find some way of dealing with it, not me, not them. Go AWAY!” Klaus pulled his head in towards his chest and jerked against the cuffs trying to cradle his skull. His brain was pounding, he couldn’t believe that a person could feel this much pain and still be living. Yelling made everything worse, but he couldn’t stop, he had so much to say.
“I wasn’t always like this, I was strong once -”
“And now you’re weak and I don’t care, no one cares-”
“No weaker than you! At least I committed to what I did, you’re just filling your body with poison. How are we any different?” Klaus stiffened, finally facing the man. For the first time since he awoke in this cursed room, he was absolutely still.
“Because I didn’t murder any innocent children!”
“You’re killing yourself, aren’t you?
Klaus exploded. Everything was too much, the wailing of the children, the jibes of the burning man, the pain in his body, the pain in his heart, it was too much and it was killing him and he was…he was...
He was screaming.
“WHAT DOES IT MATTER? GO AWAY, ALL OF YOU JUST GO AWAY I CAN’T HELP YOU, I CAN’T EVEN HELP MYSELF!”
“Klaus!”
“I’D RATHER BE DEAD THAN LISTEN TO YOU SHUT UP, SHUT UP!”
“Klaus, please!”
“STOP IT JUST STOP-”
“KLAUS!”
His eyes snapped open, but the room was a hazy shade of oaken wood and stinging reds. He shrunk back instinctively, unsure of his place. When his vision finally cleared, he found himself in the presence of a familiar, comforting figure.
“Ben?” He choked out, not believing his eyes.
The cuffs snapped off his wrist and he relished in the way he got to wrap his arms around his torso, ever so slightly rocking back and forth. He was slowly coming back to his senses.
“I’m here,” Ben said, his eyebrows knitted in with concern. And anger.
“How nice of you to visit,” Klaus tried to joke lazily, just to see him smile, but it only made Ben’s features harden.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“No, don’t, then he would just haunt me from beyond the grave,” Klaus muttered, falling forward and savoring the cool touch of Ben’s hand across his forehead. He had nothing left to give. “How are you here right now?” He asked softly.
Ben pulled his brother into a hug, chin resting on shoulder.
“It’s been a whole day, Klaus. When I found you after… after you had- um,” Ben coughed, losing his words, “ after, I started panicking and when Dad came in he had Grace take you somewhere to treat you, or take care of you or whatever and uh…” he trailed off again, guilt flooding his conscience.
“Ben, it’s okay. I’m just peachy,” Klaus tried to reassure his brother even though he had never felt worse in his life. This was worse than when he had broken his jaw running down the stairs in heels, worse than when Diego had accidentally gutted him with one of his knives. But he wasn’t going to let Ben know that. Ben squeezed Klaus which hurt before pulling back and continuing his story.
“He said that you needed to rest and that we couldn’t see you, he said that you tried to-”
“I didn't. I wouldn’t do that. It was a ghost-”
“I know! I know, Klaus. But don’t… don’t you ever do that again I don’t know what I’d do if…”
“Okay,” Klaus looked down, making a promise to himself and Ben that he didn’t know if he could keep.
“I knew something was wrong when I went looking for you in this stupid house and couldn’t find you anywhere and everyone was telling me it was fine but it wasn’t fine because they didn’t see what you looked like and you weren’t fine you were dead ,” Ben took a deep breath to compose himself, “so I got Diego to get Grace to tell me where you were. And as I was coming looking for a key I heard screaming so I just…” he trailed off as he looked back at the wall, which had been completely demolished. Klaus dropped his jaw as Ben ducked his head sheepishly.
“I panicked!” He sighed, standing up and off the table. He stretched his hand out to Klaus offering support, and if he was hurt that he had instinctively flinched at the gesture, he didn’t say anything. Klaus gripped his brother’s hand as he carefully swung his legs off the table. He would have slid to the ground like a rubber snake if Ben hadn’t been there to catch him.
Klaus almost threw up on him. Almost.
Ben helped him limp out of the room and through the trashed doorway even though every step was a new agony and Klaus was fading fast.
“Hold on, I’m going to get Diego. Don’t move,” he said completely serious as he gently let Klaus sit against the hallway wall.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, on the verge of passing into sleep.
“But would you dream of me?” A haunting voice spat into this ear.
Klaus didn’t have the energy to stay awake and bicker, his mind finally entering the blissful, dark void.
-
This time when he woke up, he had a whole host of siblings around his bedside with no unsightly figures to be seen. He was suffering but nowhere near to the degree he had been earlier, which he considered to be progress. Another upgrade: he had a mattress. Oh mattress, how I’ve missed you he sung in his head. He could feel bandages wrapped around his wrists and a cool towel pressed to his head and once again he believed he could be okay.
“Klaus if you scare me like that one more time I’m going to punch you in the face,” Ben spoke harsh words but was definitely smiling. Klaus allowed himself to smile back.
“Okay, he’s awake, we’re going to go spar,” Luther stood up, feeling awkward. He was the one that had carried Klaus back to his room, and while he was very grateful he was okay, he wasn’t quite sure what he could possibly do now. Reginald had raised him to be a leader, someone who could communicate orders but not emotions. He grabbed Diego’s arm, who let out an startled sound but still let his brother lead him out of the room.
“I’ll be b-back later, Klaus!” He shouted over his shoulder before vanishing from view. Diego too did not know how to properly share everything he was feeling (which was, at that very moment, a sense of relief beyond power of speech), another product of Reginald’s failed parenting.
Then it was just Ben and Allison and Klaus. Allison hesitated in the silence before pulling Klaus into a hug.
“I heard a rumor that you don’t feel any pain right now,” she whispered into his ear, and just like that he could breathe without feeling like he was being skinned alive. He knew it wouldn’t last, he knew that later he’d have to face reality, but in this moment he basked in the absence of scars. “I have to go, but I’ll bring some brownies back with me I swear.”
Allison left the room with a promise, but not before shooting another comforting smile in his direction. She breezed right past Vanya, who stood nervously watching from the doorway, unsure of how to approach. She made a move to knock and drop off the books she had brought with her for Klaus to read if he got bored, but her hand fell to her side and she quietly backed away. Convinced that her extraordinary brother wouldn’t want, need any help from his less-than-special sister.
Maybe I’ll come back later she told herself, after she had gained the confidence. Knew what words to say.
(She never went back).
Klaus looked at his brother, trying to find the words to express everything he felt. Gratitude, guilt, fear, and-- christ on a cracker what is Dad going to do to him?
“Ben, this is all very nice, but I should go back to that room before Dad just pops ,” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth for effect, “I don’t want you getting in trouble with the old man for my sake.” Klaus made a move to get off the bed but Ben shoved his chest down with a snort.
“Don’t be stupid, Klaus, you may feel fine right now but your body is still healing. Dad is wrong. You don’t have to do this alone-- you shouldn’t have to. We’re a team, remember?” Ben stuck out his pinky for Klaus to grab, a small vow being shared between them. Help each other, always.
(Klaus didn’t know just how badly he would break that vow).
Ben yawned, dropping his hand to shove it in the pocket of his hoodie. He looked exhausted, and while there was so much Klaus wanted to tell him, he could wait until Ben had rested.
“Thanks for everything. Now go to sleep, you look worse than me.”
“Bet.”
“Yeah? Whatever. I look better than everyone in this house, that’s my real power. This ghost talking business is just a side job.”
“If I were your boss I’d fire you.”
A pillow slammed Ben in the face.
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite person named Ben.”
“I’m the only Ben that you know.”
The pillow swung around and whacked Ben in the chest with a solid whap.
“Geez, I see the talent is testy today. I’ll be right down the hall if you need me and,” Ben crossed his arms, “if you so much as move from this room, I will have Luther snap you in half.”
“Imagine getting Luther to do anything that isn’t his idea.”
Both boys chuckled as Klaus leaned back against the mountain of pillows at his back. Ben gave him one last hug before standing up and cracking his neck, wincing as his bones popped. He hadn’t really sat down since Klaus went missing and his whole body called for rest. He walked to the door and paused, turning back to give his brother one last wave.
“I love you, Klaus.”
“I love you too, Ben. Now leave before I set your hoodie on fire,” Klaus threw one of his pillows at the retreating figure as Ben cackled, racing to shut the door behind him.
Once again, he was alone. But for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t lonely. He had no trouble or second thoughts about closing his eyes and not being afraid of opening them.
-
“Number Four.”
No.
“Number Four, I know you are awake, don’t be foolish.”
Klaus reluctantly rose to stare at Sir Reginald Hargreeves, not daring to back down.
“Dad,” he stated matter of factly, his tone not revealing how nervous he was. There was a tense silence between the two Hargreeves, but for the first time in front of Klaus, the monster blinked first.
“It has come to my attention that my methods earlier today were apparently… ineffective.” He didn’t have the decency to look away or apologize, but this was the closest thing to an admittance of wrongdoing Reginald had ever come to. Klaus was first taken aback, and then he resolved to quietly gloat this small victory later.
“Apology accepted,” he drawled, trying to take advantage of his current moral high ground. Reginald struck his cane against the ground and Klaus flinched.
“I’m not sorry, Number Four. You are still doing a terrible thing that isn’t going to help anyone, and it certainly won’t save the world. Useless…. All I’m saying is that I recognize my tactics were not the correct ones. Now sleep, I’ll be sending Grace in with some breakfast after I leave.” And with that, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made for the door.
Klaus felt like he had been slapped around by some divine hand for a solid three sentences. He didn’t know what else to say to that except--
“Cheers to trying, Dad,” he tossed out flippantly, his humor his final defense from his sorrow.
As soon as he left, Klaus pulled a small flask out from underneath his mattress.
He could always start this whole ‘getting clean and sober’ business tomorrow.
Yeah, tomorrow.