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Up ahead, Klaus saw Five pressing the button for the elevator in the distance. He stumbled to keep up with the rest of his siblings as they strode after him, Diego in the lead as ever. Klaus gripped his flask in one hand, taking a long swig as he staggered after Allison, and realised- his brain working slower under the influence- that they were all intending to take the elevator. Which meant him taking it too. Frantically, he looked around for his lifeline here but Ben wasn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe he was just as nervous about facing Dad as the rest of them…
But Klaus couldn’t think about now, too busy trying to think of a reason they should all take the stairs instead. The whiskey wasn't helping.
“Hey, Luther,” He turned to his brother, nearly falling over his own feet in the process, “What do you say we take the stairs? For old times sake!” He threw his hands up in the air and whiskey sloshed from his flask, “Shit! But I mean, you know that you could get some really good cardio in on the stairs and honestly, I think you could use the workout… Just like old times, right?”
Luther just frowned at him as if he was speaking Greek rather than slightly slurred English and shook his head slightly. It was worth a shot, Klaus supposed, as he resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to take the elevator with the rest of them. Briefly, he considered asking Vanya (who would definitely be understanding) but dreaded seeing the sympathetic look on her face. Taking the stairs on his own would seem too weird, too out of place, and he risked falling back down them if he stumbled.
Besides, maybe it wouldn’t be too scary, he tried to reassure himself. Maybe he was over the whole thing now that he was three whole years older. And alcohol removed inhibitions, right? Maybe it would make the constricting space seem positively welcoming to Klaus. Or maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to get on at all. As he drew closer, he saw the fateful silver doors closing. Yes, yes, this was perfect, yes-
“Wait up,” Diego caught the elevator doors before they slid closed, pushing them back open, and slipping easily inside. He stood next to Five, who glanced at him, before turning back to face the front. Allison stepped into the elevator next, asking him to hold the door, and one by one, they started filing in. Slowing his pace, Klaus fell behind the others as Vanya and Luther squeezed into the elevator. It looked far too small to fit all six of them, he thought, and his stomach flipped.
He got as far as the doorway and then froze abruptly, “You know, guys, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. The old man was never a big fan of mine and I think me being there might bring up some unresolved tension… From the future that is. You know how it is with Dad and the 'Number Four, you're a disappointment' routine, let's just skip it this time around.”
Five gave him a condescending look, “What part of the future don’t you get? He has no idea who you are.”
“Yeah but I’m just thinking, maybe it would be better if I just hung back here. Don’t want to overwhelm him all at once. After all, he’ll have to accept that the fact Luther and Diego are his sons. That would be hard on anyone,” Klaus bumbled, his voice growing quicker in panic, “Moi might be enough to push him over the edge-“
“He’s expecting all of us, idiot,” Diego rolled his eyes, “Hurry it up.”
Before he could invent another excuse to escape, Five grabbed him by the front of his silk shirt and yanked him into the elevator. He held him tightly, balling the shirt in his fist, and only released him when the doors had closed behind him. Right, right, he should’ve remembered that Five doesn’t let anything get in the way when he wants something. Immediately, Klaus felt his stomach shrink to the size of a raisin and his skin heat up, an anxious sweat forming across his face and under his arms. Maybe silk wasn’t a good choice after all.
At least his sunglasses hid the way his eyes flicked anxiously from the door to the emergency call button. He was right to be worried: Luther alone took up half the space in the elevator and the rest of them were crammed in beside him. It felt like the elevator was far too small to hold so many people. In fact, it was as if the entire room was shrinking around him, like he was being wrapped in plastic wrap. There definitely wasn’t enough oxygen in here for all six of them. He slowly turned to face the front, eager to dart out the very second the doors opened.
“Are you okay, Klaus?” He heard Vanya ask in a worried tone.
He didn’t know how but he managed to lower his sunglasses and wink at her nonchalantly. Casual as ever, all good here. Just ignore the suffocating feeling. The motion of the elevator rising made him feel like he was going to throw up, so he took a long drink from his flask and leaned his sweaty forehead against the doors. He was close enough that it didn't look too out of place. Closing his eyes, he was grateful to feel the cool metal pressing against his temples and prayed the little girl upstairs the others thought he was just too drunk to stand up properly. He also hoped the room would stop shrinking when he opened his eyes.
Not long now, he told himself, any minute now and you’ll be out of this hellhole. He lifted his head from where he was resting it on the doors and opened his eyes, drawing in a slow breath. A bead of sweat formed at his hairline and rolled gently down the curve of his nose, dripping onto his shirt. Gross. Vanya was definitely staring at him but he tried to pay it no attention, rolling his head back as if he was relaxed as ever.
“Have you conquered your fear of the dead yet, Number Four?” Even though it should have been impossible, he heard his dad’s voice. Klaus snapped back to attention, all of his muscles tensing up automatically. It was so clear that he looked around to make sure he hadn’t slipped into the elevator with them, folding himself between Luther and Allison. Nothing. And yet, it seemed as if he had spoken directly into his ear.
Immediately, without warning, he was a child curled in the corner of a freezing, cramped mausoleum again. There wasn’t enough room in here for him and the ghosts, so they wrapped themselves around him. Draped their dull corpses over his shoulders and laughed when he struggled to lift his head. Screams echoed in his ears and long fingernails dug into his flesh and drew blood as they dragged violently down the skin of his back. The dead didn't just want his attention, his pity; they wanted him, to pull him under the ground and stuff his mouth with dirt so that he couldn't scream. If he didn't get out of here, the room was going to swallow him whole and the spirits would laugh as worms devoured his corpse.
And then, the elevator jolted to a sudden holt.
It jerked Klaus back to reality for a moment and he heard Diego mutter, “Shit.”
Luther slammed his fist against the wall, which caused the whole room to tremor and Klaus had to bite back a whimper. He kept his balance somehow, though he wobbled uncertainly on his feet and he didn't think it was anything to do with the alcohol. Immediately, his brothers were complaining, arguing with each other, and his sisters were trying to rationalise the situation, just like whenever anything went wrong. Usually, he’d be providing comic relief and slurred advice with a laugh. Not now, not when his lungs were caving in and the room was growing hungrier by the minute. Instead, Klaus felt his flask slip from his grip and land with a clatter on the floor, golden whisky oozing across the floor of the elevator.
“Thanks for that, butterfingers,” Five shot him a glare but he didn’t notice it.
Reginald Hargreeves announced, to his ears only, “Three more hours.”
Honestly, Klaus didn’t think he had three more minutes in him. How had the elevator- no, the mausoleum- shrunk so quickly? If he spread his arms, it felt as if they would be able to touch the walls on either side of him, as if he were slowly being compacted. No, no, no, he couldn’t be trapped in here any longer with them. Not with them wailing for him, their cries bouncing off the walls, and their faces leering at him from the darkness. They wanted him. It seemed like they were trying to slit his skin-suit open and crawl between his ribs, where he couldn’t escape them. He could feel them seeping into his bones and raced to desperately hammer on the door, begging for his father to free him before they could take him.
He dropped into a squat, moaning, and wrapped his arms around himself. The din around him faded into the background and every time he blinked, he saw the twisted distorted faces jeering at him. Claws raked from his knuckles to his elbow, as if the ghosts wanted to peel his skin right off. Klaus couldn’t breathe. Why wasn’t there any air in here? He started to question if he was dead too, maybe that’s why he couldn’t suck anymore air into his lungs. Or was he just dying? He feared that death was coming for him, they were coming for him, and the room was chewing him up. He was being pushed down the gullet, into the stomach, and he was six feet under the ground, choking on dirt, and he was being eaten alive by the dead and-
“Hey, Klaus. Look at me,” a voice managed to break through his defences and Klaus opened his eyes to find that Diego was crouched down beside him, prodding him gently, “You still with us, buddy?”
In response, Klaus tried to nod but instead let out a pathetic wail, suddenly all too aware of how cramped it is with so many people in here. Now, he's not alone in the mausoleum anymore but surrounded by corpses, propped upright, and he can't move or he'll touch them. He's packed in, like a sardine, with the bloated corpses and now one of them is grabbing at him. A hand slid down and gently peeled Klaus's hand away from his arm. Looking down, he was shocked to see his arm is streaked with bright red blood. It seems too red, as if the saturation had been turned up, and Klaus felt his stomach lurch violently again. Underneath his nails, his own blood was beginning to dry and crust.
Somebody tried to remove his sunglasses but Klaus flailed out of their grip, promptly loosing his balance and landing on his ass with a thump. He slapped the hands away again and, fearing that his father will never come back to let him out, started desperately crying about for his dad. He needed to get out of here right this second, otherwise he would die. He's absolutely certain that he would die here, crushed in this coffin of an elevator, if somebody didn't get him out of here. Frantically, Klaus threw himself at the door and started trying to force his way out.
“Is he overdosing?” Allison’s worried voice reached his ears.
Vanya responded in a taut tone, “I think he’s having a panic attack.”
Instead of responding, Klaus clawed desperately at the door like a cat wanting to be let out. He needed to get out of here, no matter what. Fuck it, fuck any consequences. He didn't care if he plummeted to his death in the elevator shaft as long as it meant he wasn't in here anymore, ("you need to conquer your fear, Number Four"). He rotated between hammering the doors with his fists, desperately scratching at the metal with his fingers, and trying to pry the doors open with his fingers, which hurt more than it helped. And all the time, he was yelling desperately for someone, Vanya, Diego, Allison, Luther, Five, BEN, anyone to let him out- dad, let me out!- it was too small, he couldn’t breathe, the corpses, oh god-
Somebody heaved him off the floor and held him upright, not loosening their grip on him no matter how much he writhed and kicked. Memories flashed before his eyes in quick succession of being tied up by a pair of assassins, gagged with tape, and beaten bloody for information he didn't know. He was being kidnapped! In panic, Klaus flailed. His foot made contact with something solid and he heard Five swear loudly, clutching at a bloody nose. The vivid red of the blood on his siblings’ face shocked him. Now, somebody was holding his legs in place too and it reminded him too much of the motel closet- oh god, the motel closet, they'd tied him up and left him to die there. He felt trapped, like when Hazel and Cha Cha had tied him to the chair and the dead had gathered around him to throw themselves at his feet. He needed to get out of here!
Eventually, (though he didn’t know how long it was), Klaus ran out of strength to fight back anymore. It didn't happen quickly and he didn't go down without a fight, tears now streaming down his face as he remembered being tied up, gagged, and left in the dark. Left to rot. Just like when Dad had left him in the dark and damp, surrounded by the relentless ghosts. Klaus went limp in Luther’s strong grip, letting his head rest against his brother's warm chest. His arms hung uselessly at his sides and Diego had released his legs, which dangled pathetically like a rag doll's.
“I’ll put you down if you promise to stop kicking,” Luther told him, firmly, and lowered him gently back onto his feet when Klaus nodded. Part of him wished that he could just stay in his brother's arms until they reached their floor, safe in his strong grip.
The room still felt small and tight, as if it was trying to compress him into a cube of Klaus garbage, but there was no longer any ringing in his ears. This wasn't the mausoleum or the motel room. He could breathe shallowly and with each breath he took, the elevator started to swim back into view.
“Are you back with us, Klaus?” Diego asked him, looking at him with wide eyes.
Slowly, he nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I think so. God, that was… trippy…”
As everything started to straighten himself out, he took in the scene that he’d caused. Whiskey had been spilt all over the floor, causing his shoes to stick a little when he shifted his weight. Vanya had rescued his flask, holding it to her chest as if she were holding a newborn, and her face was painted with fear as she watched him. His fingers were bloodied at the tips, already drying under his nails, and he had managed to carve light scratch marks into his forearms- that must've been what caused the sensation of the ghosts trying to claw his skin open. Allison was studying him with sisterly concern, looking as if she was worried that he would shatter into pieces if she got too close, while Diego blew out a low breath he had been holding. In the corner, Five was pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to slow his nosebleed. It had dripped onto his sweater and stained his shirt.
Nobody seemed to know what to do or say, except Five who disappeared in a flash of blue light like he always did when things got awkward. There didn't seem to be much to say- even if they didn't know what had triggered him to freak out, it hardly took a genius to work out they'd just witnessed panic attack of epic proportions. Not that most of them would connect his reluctance to enter the elevator with his epic freak-out, seeing as Luther and Diego seemed to share one brain cell between the two of them. Vanya opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, lowering her gaze back to the flask. Finally, Klaus felt one of Luther’s huge hands come to rest on his shoulder.
“What happened, Number Four?” He said, reclaiming his leadership role.
“So much for Team Zero,” Diego muttered, just as Vanya said, “He’s a person, not a number.”
Klaus didn't give a shit.
He just shrugged his shoulders, taking his flask back and draining the dregs before answering, “What else but some good ole Dad-based trauma?” That made Luther wince, “Small spaces really got my goose, I mean, get my geese or whatever. Like a claustrophobia type thing. God, that was such a rush.. But in a bad way, you know? It felt just like the first time I speed-balled. Did I ever tell you guys about that?”
None of them answered, although Vanya offered him a half-hearted smile.
That was when Five popped back into the elevator, slightly less bloody now, just in time for the elevator to jolt back into action. Various mutters of "thank god" and "about time" were exchanged between the siblings and Five just nodded at them. He’d obviously had something to do with it starting back up and Klaus was grateful- while his brother wasn’t the best at empathy, he could certainly come up with practical solutions at the bat of an eye. He didn't have enough energy to be irritated that Five hadn't thought to use his powers to fix the situation until now. Klaus wiped his hands off on his pants, not taking his eyes off the doors as they finally crept towards their destination. Still, the elevator was silent.
The second the doors open, Klaus burst through them and it took everything in him to not collapse onto the floor right there and thank the little girl upstairs for letting him out. Of course, now that the whole episode was open, Ben was waiting for them just beyond the elevator.
He did a double-take at the sight of Klaus, “What happened to you?”
“Oh, now, you show up,” Klaus grumbled, waving him away.
Like the others, he headed towards the circular table that had been set for seven; he only felt slightly sorry that there wasn’t a seat for Ben because he was bitter the ghost hadn’t been there to help him through, like he usually did. Probably been too busy rattling some chains or dancing around under a sheet, whatever he did in his spare time. Only Ben really... Really got him, you know? Even if he was a pain in the ass, he knew how to get Klaus through hard times and had done so a million times before. Though, Klaus supposed as he flopped into his chair, his other siblings hadn’t been totally useless this time. Mostly, he was just dreading having to explain the whole incident again later when they got the chance to confront him about it later. Hopefully, he could write it off as a classic Klaus episode.
“Hey, Klaus,” Diego nudged him under the table with his foot, “You up for taking the stairs on the way back down? Or are you traumatised by those too, since Dad made us run up them?”
Klaus let out a wheezy laugh, “The only one who was traumatised by that was you, Diego. You know, because you could never beat Five? I heard you practising for months after that, running up and down the stairs all night. Unless that was just for fun? How you get your sick kicks?”
Speak of the devil, that was when their father arrived.