Archive of Our Own

“He’s definitely avoiding you,” Ben says.

“Great.”

Klaus sighs and rubs his permanent stubble. It doesn’t feel scratchy, not really, but that’s no surprise.

It hadn’t been hard to figure it out. Klaus hoped things would be different now—and they are different, a little, especially after his funeral. His siblings take the time to talk to him, ask about how he is, invite him to hang out. They stop needling him about drugs (mostly. Some, like Luther, are slow learners). They smile at him more. 

Their changes are what make Five’s absence all the more noticeable. It's also that Klaus is hyperaware of the ghosts around him, since he’s sober and a ghost himself, so the absence of any of Five’s assassin-kills is noticeable, too. This is a relief for sure, but Klaus misses his brother. Sometimes his intelligent rambling and his drinking are almost enough to make even Klaus look normal— “almost” being the keyword. Five is Five—a precocious, pretentious, smug, talk-down-to-you-if-he-bothers-to-explain-at-all guy, but he cares. He's Five.

So why is he avoiding Klaus now? 

Five better not be secretly dying. Klaus has seen Iron Man 2. That would be a pain in the fucking neck.

Is it guilt? anger? irritation? Is he blaming himself or is he blaming Klaus? Or is this about something else? 

“So much for brotherly love and all that,” Klaus says. “Yippee! Back to the status quo.”

“That’s not fair and you know it,” Ben says. 

Klaus sighs again, but Ben’s right. Their dear manchild of a brother is in need of some serious help already, and recently losing another brother he thought he’d saved from apocalyptic death probably isn’t making anything better.

“Should we track him down?”

“He won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be,” Ben says. 

“But maybe he wants to be!”

“Not really,” says Five. 

Klaus jumps. “Christ on a cracker, kiddo! I didn’t hear the whomp of your teleporty sound.” 

For a second, that fact alone is enough to make Klaus panic, to make him fear that Five has appeared to him as a ghost. Klaus scans Five’s body for any blood or holes where there shouldn’t be any. Five looks normal, but his uniform is such a dark color. If the blood dried black—

Klaus puts his hand out. He breathes a sigh of relief when his hand passes through Five’s shoulder, Five’s living shoulder. 

Five takes a step back. 

“What the hell?”

“Testing corporeality!” Klaus says. “Visibility and corporeality are different! I’m trying to figure out if I can touch stuff!”

Klaus supposes it’s not really a lie. He would like to touch stuff. And people, too. Klaus and Ben had hugged each other the day Klaus’s lie fell apart. Ben had tried to hug Vanya shortly after, but Ben had passed through Vanya like smoke, and the heartbroken look on both their faces—on all their faces—had been seared into Klaus’s metaphorical brain. He’d like to test the limits of his powers. If he can figure out if ghosts can touch living people—

“Is that what you two idiots are doing in this hallway?” Five says. 

“I take offense to that,” Ben says. 

“Ben takes offense to that.”

“I can hear him.” Five raises an eyebrow.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Klaus says. 

He forgets, sometimes, that Ben has figured out how to make himself visible now. He realized a few days ago that every time Ben puts in that focus, he’s pulling some sort of thread, giving Klaus a moment of dizziness before he rights himself again. One would think that this would make Ben’s visibility more memorable, but Klaus hasn’t been anything but unsteady in years. What’s a split second of dizziness to a man like Klaus? It’s immaterial, is what it is. Forgettable. Unnoticeable. And since they don’t spend too much time with their siblings—even though they are being invited to things other than fights now—Ben probably doesn’t bother too often, since Klaus can see him regardless. 

From the look on Ben's face, it looks like Ben, even though he knows he's making himself visible because he has to will himself to do it, still forgets sometimes that other people can hear what he says. Years of making nothing but sideline commentary, who can blame him?

"We're getting ready to go," Five says. "Be downstairs in a few minutes.” 

He pops away.  

"Race you down," Ben says, and then he takes off, Klaus scrambling to catch up.

It doesn't take long to realize that all seven of them can't fit in Diego's car, especially not with Allison's luggage in there.  

"Shotgun," Allison says.

Her voice is still kind of low and hoarse, but she's been talking for a few days now. She prefers ASL still, signing long things especially, but she's successfully saying aloud a few words at a time.

"We could put Klaus in the trunk," Diego suggests.

He's kidding, but that still evokes a visceral, "Hell fucking no," from Klaus, who thinks about Hazel and Cha-Cha and then shudders. 

"Luther and I will meet you at the airport," Five says. 

Luther blinks. "Uh. Okay."

"I can take a taxi," Vanya says.

"No," Diego and Klaus and Five say, while at the same time Allison says, "Absolutely not."

Vanya looks down, somewhat embarrassed, but she also smiles, so it's a win. 

The seven of them all stand around for another moment.

"We could sit on the roof," Klaus says, looking at Ben.

"Are you crazy?" Diego says.

"That might actually be fun," Ben says.

"Jesus Christ."

"C'mon, Diego, what're we gonna do? Die?"

Klaus is the only one who laughs.

In the end, Diego drives, Allison sits shotgun, Vanya sits in the backseat with some of Allison's luggage, the rest of Allison's luggage is in the trunk, and Klaus and Ben cling to the top of the car and scream with glee all the way to the airport.

Five and Luther stand on the front steps of the Academy and watch their siblings drive away. Well, they watch Diego, Allison, and Vanya drive away. Klaus and Ben are invisible so Diego doesn't get pulled over for having two lunatics on top of his car, but Luther knows they're there.

They stand together awkwardly for another moment after the car is out of sight. 

"So," Luther says, "are we going?" 

Five looks up at Luther sharply. He's more than a foot shorter than Luther, and somehow that look still makes Luther freeze for a second despite himself. For a second, Five somehow looks simultaneously exactly like their father and nothing like him at all.

"Give me one good reason," Five says lowly, "that I shouldn't take you to the moon and leave you there.” 

"Uh," Luther says, because what else is he supposed to say to that? That came completely out of nowhere, what—

Five raises an eyebrow.

"Because they're expecting us?" Luther says. 

Five's expression doesn't change.

"You don't want to ruin Allison's big day," Luther tries.

"We're taking her to the airport, not handing her off to be married," Five says.

Even Luther thinks that "handing her off" sounds a little old-fashioned. He starts to say so, and Five steps on his foot.

"Ow."

"Oh, please."

"We'll both die without spacesuits," Luther points out. Then, when there's still nothing, he says, "You'll never have coffee again if we die on the moon."

"Okay, fair play," Five says, and then he breaks eye contact with Luther to look out at the street.

Luther relaxes. He hadn't realized he'd been so tense that whole time. 

They both watch cars go by for another moment.

"You've been less of an asshole lately," Five says. "Less 'I'm the leader of this family.'"

"Uh. Thanks?"

It's nice that somebody noticed, even though he didn't think this was going to be the moment. Luther has been trying. He really has. He still hasn't quite figured out which behaviors are overbearing and which are necessary, but he's doing his best to at least start phrasing things as suggestions rather than statements or commands. That had been something Allison suggested to him, and since her entire power is all about getting what she wants through verbal suggestion—even if she doesn't use that power anymore—he thinks maybe she knows a thing or two about talking. So, suggesting rather than commanding. It doesn't work all the time, and he doesn't get why sometimes they won't just listen to him, but since there's no mission anymore, they don't have as much conflict in that area.

There's no mission since they stopped the apocalypse, so there's no need for a leader, and his efforts to be less of a commander are worth it if it means that Vanya stops leaving the room every time he walks in it. He thinks she's forgiving him. They don't talk, but they can sit together, and that's pretty good.  

"So what's this about, Five?" 

"This is about Klaus," Five says.

Luther should've known. What Five said to him on the rooftop that day still reverberates through him when he looks at Klaus sometimes. 

"I know I shouldn't have left him there," he starts, but Five holds up a hand.

"Not that," Five says. "You need to watch your strength."

Luther frowns. "I'm not following."

"Did you see the bruise marks on Klaus's neck in the photos in that file?" Five says. "Or even looking at him now, when he's walking and talking. They're not as purple on his ghost-self as they are in the photos, but Jesus Christ, Luther, you could've accidentally killed him before that asshole in the nightclub ever got the chance."

They just look like shadows under Klaus's jawline and chin if Luther just glances at him, but after seeing the photos in that file, Luther had seen them for what they are—bruises. Like somebody had grabbed his throat.

And Luther had grabbed his throat.

The day Klaus died is a drunken blur smeared across the edges of Luther's memory, but he remembers the sound that echoed through the room when he pinned Klaus to the pillar. He remembers that Klaus's throat had been warm under his fingers and that Klaus had struggled to speak. Throwing Klaus across the room after had been like throwing his jacket onto his bed—effortless, and it gave him somewhere to put his anger. He put his anger in his hands and threw it away from himself. Luther doesn't actually remember Klaus's face, in that moment. He doesn't remember what direction he'd thrown Klaus, or what Klaus had said to him, or what he'd said to Klaus. If it wasn't for the fact that Klaus had died in those clothes, Luther probably wouldn't remember what clothes Klaus had been wearing. But Luther remembers that for a second, he'd felt satisfied. He remembers that very well.

"How'd you know that was me?" Luther says, because it's easier than trying to put his shame into words. 

"Ben said something about it during his rant at us the day we found out about Klaus," Five says.

Luther remembers that, actually.

"I had to talk Diego out of trying to knife you again. Vanya wasn't too happy, either." 

"And Allison?" 

"I don't know," Five says. "She didn't talk to you about it?"

She hadn't. Or, at least, not directly. They'd talked about his anger, in the days after that big family meeting. They'd talked a lot about his anger and how he dealt with it. How he continues to deal with it. How he'll try to channel it into more positive actions in the future.

"You know, you threatened to burn me with a cigarette lighter when you got mad a few weeks ago," Luther says. "A little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"Luther, if I tried to burn you with a cigarette lighter, you would knock me into next Tuesday," Five says.

"If I could catch you," Luther says.

"If you could catch me," Five agrees. "But what the hell was Klaus gonna do, huh? Sic his ghosts on you? You wouldn't have been able to see them. There'd've been no point."

"He's not defenseless. He received the same offensive and defensive training we did.” 

"Yeah, and you're stronger than a hippo. Non-lethal or non-mutilating tactics wouldn't have worked too well on you. And you're his brother; he wouldn't have jabbed you in the eyes."

Luther chews on that one for a minute, shifting uncomfortably, but he doesn't argue, which he thinks is big of him, all things considered.

"You gotta do better," Five says. "I can't keep losing people, you hear me? I'll kick your ass before you get mad at somebody else."

"I know," Luther says. He does know. He's gotta do better. It's too late for Klaus, but for the rest of them, Five is right. "I'm sorry."

"I know, big guy," Five says, and then he sighs. He looks tired. Then, "Hold still. This'll feel weird." 

Luther says, "Wait, what?" just as Five grabs his wrist. They teleport away.

Klaus and Ben drop through the roof into the backseat of Diego's car once Vanya has stepped out and taken the luggage with her, and then they make themselves visible and exit the car themselves. Seemingly popping into existence is a little bit weird to any potential onlookers, Ben reminds Klaus, which spoils Klaus's fun of just making himself appear splayed on the roof like he's Rose from Titanic, but oh, well. He can't take his clothes off, anyway.

Diego had just decided to pay for a parking spot so they had plenty of time to unload Allison's belongings and say their goodbyes instead of having to rush through the drop-off line. The airport was large and busy, and Klaus is glad he wouldn't have to sit through Diego's road rage on their way out of that mess.

Luther and Diego unload the rest of the luggage out of the trunk with a surprisingly minimal amount of bickering. Five stands with Vanya, who looks about seven seconds away from having a breakdown.

"Call us as soon as you land," Vanya is saying to Allison. "And let us know when you get home safe."

"She's getting on an airplane, not going to war," Luther mutters. Diego punches his arm.

"Good thing, too," Klaus says. "But, hey, that doesn't mean it's not scary! We've all seen the movie Airplane!"

"Klaus, I don't think any of us have seen the movie Airplane!," Diego says. "Have you seen it?"

"Well, no, but when I saw the DVD box at the library, the plane was all twisty, and that looked pretty scary! I think it was twisty, anyway. Wasn't it twisty, Ben?"

"What Klaus is trying to say is that it's okay that you're worried," Ben says, giving Vanya a small smile. "But you're gonna be just fine, Allison."

"I'll miss you," Allison says. "Keep Klaus out of trouble."

"Will do," Ben says.

To Klaus, Allison signs, I love you. I'll see you soon. 

"I love you, too," he says. "But I better not see you soon."

"Say hi to Claire for me," Luther says, and his voice is gentle the way it always is with his favorite sibling, his best friend. 

Allison's face softens, and she gives him a hug. 

"I can't wait to meet Claire someday," Five says, and it's also gentle, also soft. 

"You can all visit," she says. "Any time you want."

She hugs each of her living siblings a long hug. Vanya is the last and the longest. They touch their foreheads together at the end, and both look like they're on the verge of tears, and then Vanya lets go of Allison's hands and steps back.

"We're gonna be alright," Vanya says, and she takes a deep breath, becoming calmer and more composed. "And we will come visit."

"Get her back," Diego says. "Visitation, at least. You can do it. Get her back."

"I will," Allison says.

Klaus and Vanya wave goodbye as Luther, Five, and Allison walk towards the airport. Luther's helping Allison with her bags, and Five is going to take Luther back to the Academy when they're done. Diego could probably fit all of them in his car now that the luggage is out, or, at least, fit everyone except Klaus and Ben, who would sit up top, but trying to figure out how they would seat everyone without putting together two people who could set each other off was giving even Klaus a headache, and that was just with Diego and Five communicating with each other in muttered whispers. So Klaus and Ben would ride with Diego and Vanya, and Luther and Five would teleport home. Settled. 

And then Allison, Five, and Luther were in the airport doors and out of sight.

"I'm gonna miss her," Vanya says.

"Yeah," Diego says. "Me, too."

"Me, three," Ben says.

"No, you Six," says Klaus, and Ben punches his shoulder lightly. Klaus punches him back, and then he gives him a hug because he can. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.

They drop Vanya off back at her apartment instead of the Academy. Ben and Klaus bicker over shotgun until Diego tells them both to shut up and starts driving away without giving either of them time to move up into the passenger seat, which is good, because Five teleports into it a split second later.

"Jesus," Diego mutters. "What if someone had been sitting there, huh?"

"That would've been unfortunate," Five says.

"Hey, what does happen if you teleport somewhere where somebody's already at? Do you merge bodies? Push them aside? Ever kill anyone that way, by you teleporting into them?" Klaus asks. "Anybody lose any limbs?"

"Luther's binge drinking downstairs," Five says, instead of answering any of Klaus's really important questions. 

"So?" Diego says. 

"Everything okay?" Klaus asks.

"Yeah," Five says. "He's just moping. But I wanted to tell you."

"Okay," Diego says.

Nobody says anything else for a second. 

Five makes a frustrated sound. "Everything I do for this family—" and then he teleports away again.

Ben looks at Klaus, and Klaus shrugs. 

When they get home, they go their separate ways. Klaus lets go of his focus and lets his visibility lapse, that tingling feeling going away, and he steps nimbly around Luther's drunk, napping body on the floor in order to get to the right staircase to go to his room. He waves bye to Ben, who's walking in some other direction, and Ben waves back and then turns the corner.  

Klaus steps into his room and makes a beeline for the hidden panel by the head of his bed where some of his drugs are hidden. He can't open the panel or dose himself with anything, so there's no point, but when he gets a craving he just likes to be near it, to pretend that he could take drugs and that he's being strong by resisting the urge. It's not true—he thinks these cravings are just like a phantom limb aching, and there's no way he can do anything about it—but it makes him feel better, to pretend that sobriety is his choice. His whole self feels nauseous for a moment, and he closes his eyes.

A small clinking sound makes him open his eyes again. When he sits up on the bed, he realizes that Five is sitting on the bed—sitting through Klaus's legs, since Klaus was laying down—and Five is looking at Dave's dog tags, the real ones. 

"Jesus," Klaus says, because that's why his legs had felt so icky, and he throws himself off the bed just so Five's not sitting in him anymore.

Five doesn't notice, of course, since Klaus is invisible, and he keeps looking at the dog tags. There's a ghost standing in the corner with half his head missing and Klaus deliberately avoids making eye contact with him. Another ghost is sitting in the doorway, her legs crossed and her throat slit from ear to ear. Blood covers her pajamas like a massive red bib. Klaus doesn't make eye contact with her either. She makes a weird rasping sound that reminds him so much of Allison that he gets suddenly very nauseous again.

"It's not real," he tells himself. He's talking about the nausea. "It's not real. You're dead."

The man in the corner moans.

"Not you," Klaus says. "Me. I'm dead. I can't help you."

Talking to the guy is a mistake. He moans louder and walks forward. 

"Don't," Klaus hisses. "I'm dead! I can't help you! Look!" Klaus puts his hand through a bedpost.

The ghost stops walking toward him, but he moans louder and louder until he's wailing, and then the bloody woman sitting in the doorway starts making sounds like she's a cat getting strangled, all hoarse and scratchy and pained.

Klaus covers his ears. "Shut up!" 

They just get louder until Klaus can't even hear himself think. He stares at the doorway—he can't get out, she's blocking him, and he can't walk through her because they're both ghosts, he'd bump into her, and then the ghosts would know they could touch him, and then what? Then what? His nightmares of the mausoleum would become real, and they scratch at him, pull at his hair, press his eyes until they burst— 

Klaus is a ghost. Klaus is a ghost.

Klaus runs through the wall. He passes one of the women with broken necks who likes to call, "Four, Four," but she doesn't follow him, and neither do the two ghosts who'd been with Five.

Klaus comes back later, after about half an hour, and Five is still there but the two ghosts are not. There's a new one there, a boy with a bullet wound straight through his neck, but he seems distracted by Klaus's fairy lights and doesn't pay Klaus any attention. Klaus's skin crawls. It doesn't actually, of course, but he's shaking, still, and his eyes dart around the room, waiting for something to burst out and try to get him. Nothing does. Echoes of the mausoleum's screams bounce around in his head and he needs to be high. He needs it like it's water and he's in the fucking desert. He can't get high, though, and even if he could, Five is in his room and doesn't look like he's leaving any time soon.

Five is still messing with Dave's dog tags.

After the funeral, at Klaus's request, Diego had put a nail in between the window and the pen drawing of an eye on the wall next to Klaus's bed for him and hung the dog tags there. Klaus hadn't told them all everything about what had happened to him—he hadn't said much at all about it, really—but they heard enough to know that the dog tags are important, especially since Klaus had asked for his clothes to be burned but he didn't want to dog tags buried with his ashes. He wants them here, where he can still look at them, still have them, still wonder if Dave will be drawn to them and come back to Klaus someday. 

Because Klaus wants to see him. He wants it more than he's ever wanted anything except maybe for the ghosts to go away.

He can still remember Dave's smile, the very first time Dave smiled at him. Klaus had thought, Oh. That's what the sun looks like. And it was cliche, but it was what he'd thought. It was the most honest, real thought he'd ever had. Dave was the sun. 

And he's not here.

Five's here, though, so Klaus shakes himself and then focuses really hard, letting that tingly feeling wash over him. "Hey, buddy," he says, and Five turns.

"You ever see this guy around?" Five says. He flicks the dog tags with his fingers. 

"No," Klaus says. He forces a grin. "We always want what we can't have!" 

"Do you need help finding him?"

"What?"

"Well, obviously you're completely incompetent."

"Hey," Klaus says. 

Then he realizes that Five is serious underneath the snide humor. Five has been avoiding Klaus, but now he's sitting here in Klaus's room and had been waiting for what, half an hour? longer? and he's offering help. He used the word "help" in a sentence and it wasn't about the rest of them being useless and half-assing helping him stop the apocalypse. 

"Yeah, I'd love some help," Klaus says. "Thanks, you little psycho."

"Fuck off," Five says, but he doesn't move from his spot. Then, "Library?"

"Library," says Klaus. He smiles despite himself.