Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Klaus was used to being disregarded. It wasn’t really their family’s fault, what else were they supposed to think? They were the family fuck-up, and that in itself was an achievement; in any other family each and every one of them could have won that prestigious title. Which only meant that Klaus was the fuck-up to beat all fuck-ups.

Not being believed or listened to was something they’d learned to live with over the years, but at least they’d had Ben. Say what you like about having the ghost of your dead brother hanging around throughout his afterlife, but Klaus had never been truly alone when their siblings would dismiss them entirely. Except now they were. Alone, that is. Ben - that little shit - had decided to finally abandon Klaus in return for saving Vanya and the world. Or something. They didn’t really care, Ben was gone.

It hurt a little more than they’d like to let on. As far as their siblings were concerned, Ben had been dead for half their lives already but for Klaus it was a fresh loss. A wound that had been torn open only now that Ben was well and truly gone. 

Klaus didn’t cry for Ben - they didn’t do much at all, in honesty - but that didn’t numb the gaping hole Ben had left behind. In many ways, Klaus had almost seen Ben as an extension of themself, and coming to terms with the idea that their little moral compass (annoying as he was) no longer existed as part of them felt like losing a limb. One of the important ones. Like a leg. Or their heart.

The apocalypse was well and truly over, which meant the Hargreeves had awkwardly stumbled around that dusty old mansion, while the rest of the world continued in swirling plumes - completely unaware that they had all died yesterday. Or the yesterday that didn’t exist anymore. It was complicated. Klaus wanted to be them so badly, everything that had happened since their dear papa had died had been, and continued to be, exhausting and terrifying. And Ben was gone. 

They tried to not keep coming back to that, but it was difficult to not notice when your brother wasn’t there sitting smugly in a chair while you tried to get on with your life. Ironic really that they noticed Ben’s absence more than they had ever been aware of his presence.

Allison planned to jet off to LA to see her daughter, with Luther in tow. They weren’t really sure how that was going to work, last Klaus had heard, Allison had lost custody of Claire, but that could have easily have changed. It’s not like she would have told them if anything had happened, and they didn’t want to ask. 

Diego was, well, Klaus wasn’t really sure how to put it other than he had gone back to being Diego. Throwing knives, saving lives. The whole deal. He still occupied his childhood bedroom, but - as he constantly assured everyone - he was leaving as soon as he could. Klaus suspected he didn’t want to leave Mom, she had died twice the last time they’d all been here. Besides, he had always been a mommy’s boy. 

Vanya seemed to have had a similar approach to Diego, simply picking up where she left off. Upon returning she had found a new string orchestra and seemed content enough to pursue that until she died. Klaus couldn’t imagine being that passionate about something, so passionate that you’d want to dedicate your entire life toward it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but apparently Klaus’ favourite things weren’t exactly something they could express openly. Not without ridicule and that weird amalgamation of pity and disgust painted on the face of everyone within earshot. It was unfair, to say the least.

Five was still at the mansion too, but he may as well not have been. Their tiny grandpa brother spent a lot of his time locked in his room; clearly the rest of them weren’t good enough company to bother with. Klaus remembered they had once told Five that he was addicted to the apocalypse. It had been bullshit at the time of course, but now they were wondering if they had been onto something after all. Five had spent the majority of his life trying to stop doomsday and now he had finally gone and done it. Now he was once again a prepubescent with a painfully long life ahead of him and absolutely nothing to drive him. Klaus would have gone insane - one life was far too much to deal with already.

With their entire family otherwise occupied, Klaus found themself just floundering through the rooms and halls of the mansion, completely purposeless. They’d tried to conjure Dave but, after no success, had assumed that he probably would have gone into whatever light dead people went through. There was no reason he wouldn’t have -  they didn’t think Dave would be afraid like Ben, or bitter and angry like the ghosts that liked to make their life a misery. They were happy for him, really, but the regret of dooming him to the very same fate again in this version of the time-line had never really left them. If anything, Klaus had made it worse - Dave had signed up earlier because they couldn’t leave it alone. Ben had warned them, but they were too stupid and arrogant to ever listen to him. Klaus had really believed that with enough dedication they could’ve saved Dave’s life. That notion had spectacularly blown up in their face.

Mom still made them all breakfast shaped like smiley faces and Pogo was still keeping a tentative eye on Klaus - apparently he never forgave Klaus for continually stealing from the mansion. As if their old man had truly cared about the occasional trinket nabbed over the years. It was like a symbiotic relationship; dear old Reggie ruined their childhood and in return Klaus would steal something every so often. It made sense, really. Over those ten years, Klaus was sure dad hadn’t even noticed half the stuff that had been snatched - so they weren’t really sure why Pogo was still hung up on it.

Without the assistance of Klaus’ preferred cocktail of alcohol and some of the more illicit substances, they’d forgotten how awful thinking clearly really was. They hadn’t been completely sober of their own volition since age thirteen, which had left them pleasantly absent from everything for the majority of their lifetime. Now everything pummeled at the forefront of their mind and it was so incredibly loud. Every misery and regret occupied permanent space: how they’d failed Dave twice over, how Ben was gone, how stupidly lonely they were in a house of ten. It fucking sucked.

Wallowing in self-pity, Klaus miserably rifled through their father’s liquor cabinet. They were willing to bet each one of these bottles sold for ridiculous amounts, but to them it was all the same. Just something to take the edge off, to soften and blur the harsh thoughts from cutting too deep. Ben would be sighing and rolling his eyes right about now, Klaus thought as they slumped into the ratty couch and pressed their lips against the rim of the bottle. He’d probably be sitting in that chair to his left and making some snarky little remark about how bad Klaus’ life choices were.

“It’s not like you’re here to stop me Benjamin, I’m free to do as I please.” Klaus grumbled into the bottle before taking several greedy gulps. It burned their throat in that same comforting way - a fiery embrace. They sunk into that couch, back merging with the patterned linings, very satisfied with their decision making skills. Over the next half hour, the bottle was already empty and discarded at their feet along with two of its brothers from the cabinet, and that familiar tidal swell pressed at their eyes as they sighed and let it take them out to sea.

“Klaus? Hey, Klaus? Wake up.”

“Ben?” Klaus muttered groggily, blinking away the sleep. The sun through one of those high windows blinded them and so they pressed the palms of their hands reflexively into their eyes before blearily looking up at their brother.

It was not Ben. Of course it wasn’t - he was gone. 

“Have you seen my knife? The little one, you know? I threw it right between your legs last time we were here?”

“Mhm, yes how could I forget coming so close to an emergency testicle amputation. I will always treasure these fond memories.” 

Diego groaned and was already walking away. Klaus couldn’t bear to be alone again so they scrambled from their horizontal position to prop their elbows on the back of the couch, and call after their brother.

“Off killing, mon frere?” Klaus said head propped between their two palms, “Sounds exciting, I’ll be right there.” 

“No, no. Klaus no. You’re not coming.”

“Diego! I’m helpful remember!” Klaus whined, “I’ve saved your ass like two whole times!” 

“I’m pretty sure one of those times was actually Ben.”

That stopped Klaus in their tracks. Always one for a witty comeback, Diego seemed to immediately clock he’d struck a nerve but couldn’t seem to decipher what he had down to offend his brother. Klaus had not told any of them about Ben, and gathering Diego’s reaction Vanya didn’t seem to have either.

“Shit, man. I’m sorry, I just meant that- I didn’t mean that you-” Diego trailed off as Klaus smirked. If nothing else, Klaus could recover quickly. Diego clearly didn’t know the true reason behind Klaus’ faltering, and they weren’t about to let him find out. They held up a quieting finger and shushed Diego, before pouting dramatically.

“Okay, okay, maybe I’m not the most helpful sidekick,” Klaus admitted, raising their hands in mock defeat. It wasn’t untrue, Klaus had always been the hindrance to the team. “But could I at least come along for entertainment value and companionship?”

Klaus smiled sweetly, fixing their eyes on their brother pleadingly. They couldn’t be alone and Diego was their preferred option - he had always been the most tolerant of Klaus’ varying antics. Exasperated, Diego sighed and just shook his head. Okay, so Klaus would just have to force themself into Diego’s car. Fine.

Starting to walk away again, in pursuit of his missing throwing knife, Diego waved at Klaus in goodbye. Still desperate to join him, Klaus scrambled backwards off the couch, almost tripping over the scattered bottles on the ground and spectacularly kicking one against the wall. Shards were sent scattering across the floor and Diego turned, startled by the sudden crashing. Glass littered the floor and Klaus, now kneeling on the floor with their heads in their hands, swore under their breath. So much for convincing Diego they were in anyway competent.

“Shit, Klaus!” Diego said, gazing disbelievingly at the mess Klaus had caused in only a few short seconds, “I thought you were clean?”

“I am!” Klaus protested, fully aware that Diego was absolutely not going to believe them. 

Stunned, Diego shook his head. He dithered for a moment or two, before realising he did actually have some place to be, and left Klaus alone in the rubble of their own making. It did absolute wonders for their self-esteem.

“No, no, no, no! Diego!” Klaus wailed, having run out the side door only to see the already disappearing cloud of dust Diego’s tires had left in their wake. Tugging at their hair, Klaus paced the gravel for a few moments, the crunching beneath their feet providing a welcome distraction from the old lady with no eyes - who still, despite the eyelessness, found a way to look like she was watching them from behind the bins. Shuddering, they reentered the house, aware they should probably do something about the mess they had made.

Almost all the glass was tidied neatly into the trash by the time Allison and Luther came down the stairs, chattering about something Klaus was sure would not interest him. It was strange seeing them together like this, after all these years. They had always been incredibly close. So close that Klaus often felt obliged to remind them that they were, in fact, siblings. It was weird. At least now, since coming back from the sixties, they seemed to have finally realised that their connection was better kept familial. Thank god. Klaus was not about to become both a brother and brother-in-law to both of them simultaneously. Though that sort of thing would track with their family’s pattern of batshit behaviourisms.

 “Klaus?” Allison said, confused but laughingly. At mention of his name, Klaus piled the remainder of the small glass shards into the dustpan. Turning to face them and hoping that they wouldn’t ask why he had been cleaning the floor at half past seven in the morning, which was much earlier than Klaus was generally awake.

“Good morning, sister. Brother,” Klaus said, emptying the last shards into the trash, before grinning at them lopsidedly from across the room. “Just doing my morning chores, you know how dad liked everything spick and span,” he flailed an arm in the direction of the now glassless and bottleless floor, as if to emphasise his final point, “Honour his memory.” Dramatically, Klaus clasped his hands together and looked woefully up at the ceiling.

Allison only chuckled lightly. She and Klaus had become a lot closer during their time in the sixties, it felt as though he had talked to her more in those few days than in the entirety of their childhood. It was a strange thing, only really connecting with your sister thirty years into your lives. Luther looked uncomfortable, he’d never known how to react to Klaus’ antics - even as children. Klaus figured he was just a tight-ass fresh out of the womb.

“Yeah, well, regardless of whatever afterlife you believe in, he sure isn’t up there.” Luther muttered bitterly in response to Klaus’ implications that their father was residing beyond the pearly gates. Gaping slightly at Luther’s expression, which looked as though something had the audacity to die under his nose, Klaus decided to savour that look on his brothers face by not revealing that their father was apparently in some weird black and white forest barber shop. It still took Klaus some adjusting to realise Luther no longer held their father in the same esteem he had done throughout their entire lives. Number One had always been the sole person to blindly defend their father and to have him now imply that he was burning in hell somewhere was, in Klaus’ opinion, quite beautiful.

Klaus nodded solemnly, and blew a kiss into the ground at his feet. Even Luther cracked a smile this time. “So!” Klaus said after a couple of moments, “Where are you guys off to?” He sidled up beside Allison before she had a chance to answer, linking his arm in hers. “I can’t wait.” 

Inviting himself had been the only way to join his siblings on trips anywhere, since they would never think to invite him themselves. The habit had stuck, even though he knew now that they were all slowly understanding that he would no longer get them kicked out of restaurants or require any extra supervision in public. For so many years, they hadn’t ever wanted to go out into public with him and he knew full well that had been his own fault. As much as his siblings tried to hide it with plastered-on smiles and boundless apologies, Klaus always knew they were at least a little ashamed to be seen with him. Anywhere. That was also his fault - there had been enough disasters every time they had actually tried to take him somewhere. Klaus had slowly and unwittingly built his own reputation of ‘problem child’ over so many years, both before and after he permanently moved out of the academy, so he supposed it would naturally take a little time for his siblings to readjust. To understand that he was really trying now.

“Actually, Klaus-” Allison started, discomfort rising in her tone.

“We’re flying out to visit Claire.” Luther interjected quickly. It was then Klaus noticed the large travel bag he had on his shoulder, probably carrying both his and Allison’s things.

“I can pack really quickly, I’ll only be two-”

“No.” Luther said solidly. This was the Luther that Klaus remembered from his childhood, and he was sad to see him return. Overbearing and authoritative Number One, whose word was to be treated as law. Klaus almost snickered as he saw Allison kick Luther in the shin with the back of her heel for that cold statement.

“Klaus,” Allison said kindly, as though she were speaking to a much younger sibling. It was uncomfortable, but preferable to Luther’s brashness. “Patrick isn’t exactly happy that me and Luther are coming, and I’m not sure he’d appreciate, um, you.” 

The emphasis on that last word stung in a way that Klaus hadn’t anticipated. He knew he would never be as put together as Allison or Luther, but he at least hoped that they considered him at least equal to them. Not separated as someone less presentable to ex-husbands and daughters, something that is not quite palatable enough for the outside world.

“Oh, shit, no. Klaus I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Allison said quickly, in a panicked tone after realising what she had said. What she had vocalised. She drew a sharp breath, letting her last sentence hang in the the stifling air. “I just meant because of what happened last time you saw Claire. You understand?”

Klaus didn’t, in truth, have any idea what had happened the one time he’d visited his niece. All he knew is that it had not been good, having woken in an alley with nothing but his trousers and a tiny, knitted white blanket with Claire’s name down the side. Klaus thought that now would hardly be the time to ask what had happened. Not that he’d particularly want to remember anyway, if given the option. 

It had been a September day a few years ago, although technically the time between now and then had been a lot longer for Klaus and felt more like a relic of the past than fairly recent history. He remembered being invited, along with the rest of his siblings, to Claire’s christening. Remembered thinking how strange it was that Allison wanted her daughter christened, and how it was stranger still only he and Diego actually attended - and Ben, but he wasn’t sure that counted. Luther was still on the moon, Vanya’s book was still fresh within their collective memories (Diego had been very against seeing her) and Five was still very much MIA. He remembered Ben’s pleading that he stay sober, if only for this one event and how he had shamelessly ignored his brother’s advice. Only snippets of the event itself remained: how Claire had cried so loud that they’d had to delay the ceremony for a little while; how Diego had - to Klaus’ delight - worn his knives into the church; something about whales? 

“Right, right. Yeah, that’s fine,” Klaus said, breezily and unlinked his arm from Allison’s. “Well! I’ll see you both soon, I hope you have a super fun trip!” he finished with two burlesque air kisses in the direction of both his brother and sister. An uneasy glance was exchanged between them, before they nodded at one another and left the house together. 

Three siblings had left him alone within half an hour, almost as though they had collectively banded together to make Klaus feel entirely unwanted. Determined to make sure Klaus would be the last one left to move on. To get on with some semblance of life. 

Just because the world was no longer at threat of extinction, it didn’t make the nightmares any less terrifying. If they could even be called nightmares. It felt like so much more than just a bad dream. 

Every night they would wake in a cold sweat, shaking from some unknown chill brought by those grating screams at their skull. It was these moments, as Klaus shivered and hugged themself in a dark room, that they missed Ben the most. Ben was the only person who knew about the mausoleum, about the way the dead clutched to Klaus’ skin like bitter leeches, and how their shrill voices followed them through every waking moment. A permanent shadow to their every step. 

Of course Klaus had tried to keep it from him, as they had kept it from their other siblings; they’d all dealt with so much shit as kids, and Klaus didn’t want to reinforce their ‘attention whore’ reputation by complaining in any way - they were sure their siblings would think they were trying to claim they’d had it worse. But Ben had obviously found out eventually, after one painfully sober night in an immensely claustrophobic back alley. It was, after all, very difficult to keep secrets from your dead brother who spends his afterlife trailing after you. Spent his afterlife, Klaus reminded themself with a breathless groan. Past tense.

It was impossible to fall asleep after having the voices of the dead wailing your name, permeating every thought like a drill to their head. Usually, Ben would make a comment that most would call insensitive - or just plain mean given that he knew the circumstances - but that Klaus found incredibly comforting. They’d never done well with pity, had never known how to respond, so Ben’s little asshole comments brought them back to the land of the living. Allowed them space to breathe. Since Ben’s second death, Klaus only had their own thoughts for company and they were so rarely funny or helpful. So, they did what they’d done every night since their return from the sixties: they grabbed their coat from the nightstand, dressed and slipped on their shoes and slogged quietly to the main door.

Klaus drank in the crisp 3am air, still shivering but it wasn’t the cold that bothered them. If anything, it was warm for an early April morning in New York, yet it didn’t stop Klaus from threading their fingers through the hair plastered to their face and rubbing their arms as though they were freezing. 

Lamplight blazed, glaring and clinical, as Klaus passed by. Raising their tattooed hands defensively in front of their eyes and leaning against somebody’s brick wall, Klaus trembled and eventually shut their eyes fast. It wasn’t long before they realised they had been openly weeping. The silent kind. Crying like somebody with nowhere left to go, and nobody left to hear them. 

Closing their eyes tighter and sinking to the ground, retreating into themself the way one might expect a young child to, Klaus raised their hands to their ears to block out the thrum of the early morning New York nightlife. The hollering voices of friends returning from bars, the occasional car honking into the darkness and the footsteps of people on the sidewalk that sounded all too familiar to the sound of gunfire.

Klaus missed Dave so much that it ached. They could still feel every excruciating, beautiful moment of their time with Dave. Could feel the warmth of his breath as they watched each other expectantly, air hot and sticky, eyes wandering over each other like wild animals; the warmth of his lips finally meeting Klaus’ own, as they finally joined and became one. The warmth of his blood coating their shaking hands like pink paint, as they screamed for help and as everything Klaus had ever loved died in their helpless arms. They could feel the warmth of their tears on their face as they had been dragged back to camp. As tears fell thick and fast like rain after drought, blurring vision, as Klaus fumbled with that godforsaken briefcase and their heart became cold. 

Klaus missed Ben and his encouragement, his unfaltering support despite Klaus never properly acknowledging how painful their life must have been to watch from the sidelines. Missed the way Ben would stay. Stay throughout everything and anything. He could have gone anywhere, Klaus knew that he could have if he wanted to; sure, he couldn’t have talked to anybody other than Klaus but Ben didn’t have to stay. But he did. Again and again, with every mistake Klaus made - Ben stayed.

And, oh god, did they miss the drugs. They refused to admit it, not properly, but Klaus wanted nothing more than that artificial absence, that floating sensation that left their ghosts screaming from a thousand miles below. It hurt how much they missed it, and how close they were to giving in entirely. Three years clean, and it was all crumbling down around them. That resolve, fueled by their desire to see Dave and by Ben’s insistence, suddenly had no meaning anymore. The reasons for their sobriety were entirely gone. 

They thought of their remaining siblings. How, finally, they had started talking to him without that perpetually raised eyebrow or smirk; how Klaus had overheard them whispering about throwing them some kind of a ‘sobriety party’. Whatever that was supposed to be: hey, well done Klaus for being less of a disappointment! 

They all meant well, Klaus knew that. None of them really knew what it meant to be siblings, but they were all doing their best. Even if Klaus was still not taken seriously, or at least as much as they would like, trying was the first step of many and Klaus desperately didn’t want to disappoint their family all over again. They had heard it in Diego’s voice that morning - the disappointment - when he had taken Klaus’ stupid blunder for them being high. That sad frustration Klaus had grown far too used to laced into his voice.

Klaus remained curled against the brick wall for what could have been minutes or hours. They didn’t care. Didn’t care about the wind that raised the hairs on their bare arms, didn’t care about the way the sky began to lighten and didn’t care about the people who passed by, whispering about them. For now, it was enough to be here. Being here was as good as anywhere, better probably. There would always be ghosts and there would always be people or noises that reminded them of war, Dave, Ben. Klaus would either have to live with that or not, there were no other options. So, Klaus remained by the brick wall until the sun radiated golden through towering skyscrapers and they traipsed back to the mansion, hoping to sneak in before anybody had noticed they were gone.

In the weeks that followed, Klaus’ relationship with sobriety was tenuous at best, his resolve deteriorating more and more by the day. Even with a whispered promise of familial reunification, Klaus couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t ever come to a point where he would be valued in the same way the rest of his siblings were. They’d grown up fighting crime together as a unit and Klaus had never really been a part of that. His programme of self-destruction had begun so early in his life, leaving Reginald with little choice but to cast him as a lookout on a good day or leaving him alone at home on a bad day. As a kid, Klaus had often wondered why his father had never just brought Klaus along the way he did with Vanya, but he now realised it was probably to reinforce the idea that she was being left out and Klaus hanging around wouldn’t have aided that perception. Asshole.

Maybe Vanya would understand. They’d both grown up as outcasts within their own family. Whilst Klaus’ was regrettably of his own making, Vanya may be the best person to reach out to for help, despite knowing literally nothing about her. Another of their father’s lasting influences. But he’d seen Vanya’s face when Klaus had gathered the courage to ask about Ben back in the sixties. Knew immediately that she saw right through that nonchalant facade, and saw the hurt Klaus held of having lost the only person who had been there for him - for seventeen long years. He knew that if he went back to Vanya he would do an even worse job at hiding that lingering grief. Besides, what would he even say to her? Hey sis, turns out I’m not actually coping very well at all. Any advice?

Allison and Luther came back in good spirits. Especially Allison. It was the happiest Klaus had ever seen her. She cast a new radiance and glow to every room she was in, which Klaus had previously thought impossible; she had always seemed so glamorous and put-together. There was now a spark and a joy that had been missing before she had gone to LA. Jealousy seethed at some far corner of his mind. A jealousy that yearned for that same rush of euphoria - even if his version may not be born of love for a child. 

Klaus found himself going through the motions. He could no longer distinguish between days, or weeks. It had become one sludgy, terrifying blur. Every night he would wake from the gasping, strangulating screams of the dead and every night he would walk out into the New York nighttime. His day consisted of nothing but moping about the mansion, watching his siblings laugh and joke with each other. He felt Ben’s absence growing larger and more suffocating with each passing day. 

Not that he wasn’t part of their designated family time. He was always there, cracking stupid jokes to the group, making sure nothing seemed out of place. 

It just wasn’t right; he had to strain to mimic the mould of his own person. After a week, even Five left the solitude of his childhood bedroom and made an effort to engage with his family, which was a big enough change to mute Klaus’ all-consuming longing for release, if only for a little while. Five did make excellent joke material. Who else could you mock for being both elderly and a baby simultaneously? 

Klaus was too good at pretending apparently, or his siblings simply never cared as much as they let on. His jokes became fewer, his voice became quieter and his presence in the room with his family only became smaller and smaller. He just couldn’t get out of his own head, which had never been a problem before - he used to forget everything the second he thought it and that had suited him just fine. 

None of his siblings knew enough about him to notice his grip on sobriety slipping through his fingers like ashes. The slope Klaus found himself on was precarious and rocky. Occasionally it held ledges where his desperate fingers could scramble for purchase but, in the end, it only went down.

Chapter Text

It was strange being back at the academy. Vanya had been the second person to leave after Diego, and had since lived her life amongst the ordinary world. The ordinary people. She had thought that she’d belonged there, but as it turned out this mansion was exactly where she had always belonged. This place had always felt suffocating and insufferably lonely despite it having once housed seven children, a talking ape, a robot mother and a brooding father. While her brothers and sister were forced together, Vanya had been forced violently away and so the academy only represented all those isolating years.

But it was different now.

Funny how a place could change from lying dormant and festering with terrible memories to some place she felt true belonging. Even though her bedroom was still detached from the complex of bedrooms her siblings inhabited, she felt more connected to them - and to the house itself - than ever before. Where the corridor walls had once felt crushing, Vanya noticed had opened out allowing her space to coexist amongst her siblings. They had accepted her wholeheartedly into their family, knowing only too well how badly their father had treated them all, and by consequence what he had unwittingly had them do to Vanya herself. So she stayed at the academy, in her closet-sized bedroom but this time she didn't mind the limited space. It didn’t mean anything anymore - it was just a room. In her home.

Vanya still dedicated herself to the violin. She was still first chair; whilst she hated the way she’d earned that spot and would forever feel a residing guilt for the fate of its previous occupant, Vanya wanted nothing more than to make the best of it. Music had always been such a calming, special feeling. Now that she no longer took her medication she was able to feel that more fully than ever before. It was magical.

Her siblings had made a conscious effort to include her since they had returned. She could see it in their guilt-laden faces that they wanted to make right the wrongs they’d done. To say Vanya appreciated it would be an understatement. It was the happiest feeling, as though she were floating on a cloud of contentedness. Things, for Vanya, were finally looking up.

Of course she still missed Sissy and Harlan terribly. She wanted nothing more than to know they were safe and happy back in the time she had left them. Part of her wanted to try and find them in this time, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what became of them - terrified of learning that Sissy had found somebody else and that person had gotten to live the life Vanya could only have dreamed of. Besides, messing with time always ruined something - she’d learned that by now.

Vanya was playing violin, lost in the tides of the bow on the strings, when Five blinked in front of her in a flash of blue light. Startled, after being fully immersed by her playing, Vanya stumbled backward.

“Sorry,” he said, noticing her small lurch, “Lunch.” With that he blinked back out of the room. Vanya gave a breathy laugh, Five had never been one for showing his care - although she knew that outward apathy did not in anyway reflect his true feelings. She was positive there was nothing Five wouldn’t do for their family.  

Packing her violin quickly into its plush casing, Vanya began her descent down to where her family would most likely already be waiting for her. These little things she’d shared with her family in the month and a half since they’d gotten back - sharing meals together, going on family outings, the relentless gentle teasing - meant more to Vanya than she could ever put into words. It finally felt how she’d always imagined the others had felt towards each other (which she knew now had been a misconception on her part) in the years she had missed out on. 

As suspected, Vanya was the last to arrive on the scene. The small kitchen was hardly large enough to house the number of people in the room, but the Hargreeves always seemed to manage, dispersing themselves across the room. Allison looked up at her and beamed, pulling out a chair beside her and patting it invitingly. 

Mom was busy pouring Luther a glass of orange juice and humming mindlessly to herself. Her programming seemed to have never accounted for the fact that one day they would all grow up, everything she did was still very much the same as when they were kids. Not that any of them minded, really. In a way, it was nice to retain perhaps the only happy memories of their youth. She seemed to have made them all sandwiches - the way she’d done when they were much younger. Noting that Diego’s had his crusts cut off, Vanya smiled in spite of herself. 

Klaus was sitting up on the counter, his plate untouched beside him, chewing on his nails. Five stood somewhere near the fridge, fiddling with their new coffee machine which he had practically demanded within a week of returning. The rest of them were clustered around the table: Luther, Diego, Allison, herself and Pogo. Seeing Pogo always made Vanya’s eyes sting, and her bones turn to lead beneath her skin. Nobody had mentioned what she had done to him, in that other time line, but Vanya remembered it in graphic detail each and every time she saw him. The way she had thrust him upon the wall like a trophy, and that she had relished in it. It was sickening.

She wondered if Pogo noticed that she was kinder toward him than she had ever been before.

After lunch and a somewhat amusing argument between Luther and Diego, only she and Klaus were left in the room. Allison had pulled Luther from the room, rolling her eyes at Vanya as she left. Five, on the other hand, had blinked the moment voices had been raised. Diego had quickly disappeared off to sulk on his own and Vanya fully intended to follow suit after finishing her sandwich - she had a concert later in the week and was supposed to go to practice very soon. 

Washing her plate off in the sink, Vanya’s eyes lingered on Klaus’ full plate at her side. He himself was still as he was when she’d first entered: clearly deep in thought and pulling absentmindedly at a hangnail on his thumb. 

“Want me to wash that up for you?” Vanya said to her brother. 

“Hm? Oh right, yeah. That would be great. Thanks, Vanny.” That name seemed to have stuck since he’d reused the childhood nickname back in the ‘60s. Of course, she hadn’t remembered the nickname at the time, but now all the fond memories of Klaus’ personal nickname for her had come flooding back. She would never say it aloud, but she liked that it was making a comeback.

“What’re you thinking about?” Vanya didn’t know where the question came from. She and her siblings had never asked about each other’s days, let alone whatever they were thinking about. But since they were all trying to be a proper family, she supposed it couldn’t be a bad place to start.

“Oh, you know. Stuff.” Vanya raised an eyebrow as she emptied Klaus’ lunch into the trashcan. Wincing as she heard it hit the bottom, she thought about how much love Mom had put into each meal. She couldn’t help but be sad for the waste. 

“Very specific,” Vanya smiled, rinsed Klaus’ plate and moved to the doorway, “Anyway I have to go to practice. Trying to get as much practice in before the concert, you know? I’ll- I’ll see you later.”

She was already halfway down the hall when she heard a scuffle of feet and a hand on her shoulder.

“Actually, Vanya, wait. Do you think I could come with?” Klaus said in one breath. He must have seen her hesitate, as he quickly continued. “I swear I’d be dead quiet and won’t distract anyone. Nobody will even know I’m there.” Flashing Vanya a trademark smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Klaus looked at her expectantly. It was really out of the question, but something about his expression reminded her uncannily of Ben the last time she’d seen him. That same pleading face as he had asked her for a final hug. Grief rose in her throat, settling hard and heavy in her chest.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay” Vanya choked out. She saw Klaus’ face melt into a genuine smile that was this time accompanied with grinning eyes; he grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on top of her head. 

“Thank you, Vanny! You won’t regret it!” Klaus said, winking maybe a little too enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, well… Let me just go get my violin, wait here.” With that she tore up the stairs to retrieve her instrument.

“Oh, we’re getting a taxi?” Klaus said as he hurriedly followed after Vanya as they made their way down the street, weaving through pedestrians. 

“Yeah. That okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah sure. Just used to Diego chauffeuring y’know?” Klaus laughed tersely. Vanya sensed there was something he wasn’t revealing but she was seriously strapped for time and couldn’t afford to probe.

She spotted an available cab in the distance and stuck out her arm, and it drew to a halt beside her. Motioning for Klaus to follow she clambered in the back and lay her violin at her feet.

“Icarus Theater, please.”

The driver simply nodded and drove off after Klaus was sitting comfortably at her side. Silence fell in the cab. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just odd. In all the years Vanya had known her brother she had never pictured him as the silent type, yet here he was perfectly still and quiet. Vanya sighed and fidgeted nervously, despite knowing they would still make it in good time.

Or so she had thought. The universe, it seemed, had other plans. It always did.

It started inconspicuously. The taxicab had stopped and Vanya had assumed they’d reached a traffic light, but soon enough the other cars and cabs around them began honking with the ferocity of swarms of angry children. She heard their driver mutter something under his breath, which sounded an awful lot like a long string of curse words as they - and the countless vehicles that surrounded them - came to a complete standstill.

Yelling exploded in the air and hostile voices stung the previous silence. Vanya groaned slightly, dread settling in her gut - perhaps she would not be as timely as she’d thought she’d be. Her presence was required - she was first chair now, she had responsibilities - and they couldn’t afford to lose valuable practice time from her absence. 

Wringing her hands in impatience for several minutes, Vanya finally leant forward and asked the driver if he knew what was going on. Why there was a delay.

“Accident.”

It was not the driver that spoke, who had instead shook his head roughly, but Klaus. His voice was barely a whisper, but the word was distinctive enough. Vanya had almost forgotten he was there - just as he’d promised - but now she’d turned to face him, perplexed by his sudden response to her question. A question even the driver couldn’t answer. She opened her mouth to ask how he could possibly know that but stopped in her tracks.

Klaus had his fingers woven into his longer hair and was clamping down on his ears with his palms; his entire body pressed against the car door. Tense, he stared out at the rows of cars outside the window. A cacophony of car horns and thundering voices still echoed and ricocheted between the skyscrapers, and Vanya felt her power raising its head at the noise, hoping to be unleashed. She had, by now, managed to keep it under tight wraps when necessary and so she silenced it.

“Klaus?” Vanya prompted, tentative and unsure. “You okay?” Seconds elongated as they ticked by, and Vanya held her breath until he nodded stiffly, not meeting her eyes.

“I just remembered,” Klaus said vaguely, voice devoid of his natural lilting bravado, “I remembered I have something super important to take care of. Go on without me, Vanny.” With that he was already out of the cab and dodging through the blockade of traffic and away. Vanya made eye contact with the driver, who raised a quizzical eyebrow but still said nothing. She shrugged. Her initial instinct was to follow after her brother; he had seemed so strange - even for him - and she couldn’t help but worry slightly. Yet, he had instructed her to go on and she doubted he needed a babysitter. Besides, being late to the theater was out of the question…

In the end she stayed in the cab until the driver advised that perhaps she should follow Klaus’ example and go on foot, or find another way to the theater as he didn’t see the traffic situation easing any time soon. She heeded his advice, thanked and paid him gratuitously for his troubles. He gave a gruff murmur of goodbye before Vanya climbed out the car and zigzagged between the cars, pulling out her mobile and dialing her conductor’s number in a frenzy. He picked up immediately, and Vanya breathlessly explained the situation as she bustled down the sidewalk, violin in tow. 

In her hectic phone-call to her conductor, she had laughingly been told not to worry about the delay, as he himself was in the very same situation. As well as four or five equally flustered other members. That she should just aim to get there as promptly as she could.

Arriving at the Icarus, flushed and ruffled, she was pleased to find that she wasn’t the last to arrive. She settled into her seat and began chatting to some of her violinists, as she waited for the remaining two players to arrive. 

The practice progressed with no further consequence, and by the end Vanya was reeling from the music that they’d created and the overall success of the performance. Stars had already begun to show themselves in the sky, and the sun was begin to rest below the horizon making way for the nighttime. Accompanied out of the theater by two cellists and a much younger violinist, Vanya was in incredibly good spirits as she said her goodbyes and headed for home.

Traffic had cleared up since the journey to the theater, and her journey home was leisurely enough to have her contentedly almost doze off in the back of the cab.

Night had fully fallen by the time she reached the academy. Looking up at the grand building, Vanya rubbed her eyes with a balled fist, and smiled before entering the grand front doors. Already looking forward to maybe buttering some toast and curling up in the chair by her window and reading a book by the light of the crescent moon. She was exhausted, but it was that giddy kind of exhaustion that came from a good day; an exhaustion she had only just learned how to feel.

As soon as she’d cracked the front door came the thundering of voices, as though it had been hovering just behind the door simply to ruin her good mood. Vanya stepped out onto the checkered tiling, and closed the door behind her, unable to distinctly make out what the conversation - or rather feud - was about. The door slammed shut with a rattling click, and the voices from the neighbouring room fell silent. Listening.

“Guys?” Vanya said, nervously playing with the cuffs of her shirt, as she turned the corner to see four of her siblings seething and arms folded. Except Five. Five was presently sitting at the bar disinterestedly sipping at what looked like a Margarita.

“Vanya.” Diego turned to her with his trademark brooding glare, except now he was genuinely glowering and angry. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Practice?” Vanya offered, clueless. Both Diego and Luther sighed gutturally, reminding Vanya too strongly of their childhood: No, you can’t come Vanya, why would you ask that? You haven’t got a power Vanya, it’s not like you’d get it. It was the sigh she received when they thought she was stupid, or didn’t understand because of how painfully ordinary she was to them - and it was often. 

Uncomfortable, Vanya looked to Allison for support but even her sister just looked at her apologetically, as though she was waiting for her to piece it together on her own. Glancing over at Five, who was still watching apathetically from the sidelines but with a slight curve to his lip that revealed that he was secretly quite amused by the situation, Vanya spotted some plastic packaging at the edge of the bar. That had not been there before. Neither had the bicycle pump.

All at once, Vanya remembered. Klaus’ “sobriety party” had been penciled in for today, and Vanya had only gone and taken both herself and the guest of honour off into the city. Vanya winced and held her head in her hands, feeling her cheeks heating. In all honesty, Vanya didn’t particularly care for the idea, but Luther had been so pleased with himself when he’d suggested it. She hadn’t wanted to ruin it for him. Though now, of course, she’d ruined it anyway. 

“Shit… that was today. I’m so sorry, guys.” Vanya muttered miserably into the grooves of her fingers.

Surprisingly it was Diego who placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. Startled, Vanya stiffened, even long after he’d released her. That may have been the first time Diego had properly hugged her. Ever. He seemed to have noticed it too, whether it was because Vanya was now gaping at him or because Luther and Allison were exchanging sly but fond glances. Diego cleared his throat quickly.

“Don’t,” he started uncomfortably, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s not even that big of a deal.” He punched Vanya in the arm gently, as though it would amend for his previous sensitivity. “Between you and me,” Diego leaned in and added softly through his teeth, ensuring that only Vanya could hear, “I think Klaus would have hated it anyway.”

Smirking, Diego pulled out one of his knives, stalked over to one of the couches and sat, and began to unpick its seams with the blade. Allison, who had been stunned throughout that strange interaction, finally gave a belt of laughter.

“That was quite possibly the most uncomfortable hug I have ever seen, congrats guys.”

Diego narrowed his eyes and her and hurled the knife so it landed lodged into the wall, narrowly skimming past her exposed arm. Flinching out of the way, but seeming otherwise unbothered, Allison only gave Diego the finger and turned back to Vanya -  who was still uncomfortably hovering just outside of their comfortable family circle.

“No, but our crazy knife wielder is actually right,” Diego snorted humourlessly, and Allison flipped him off once again. “Don’t worry about it, sis. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

This acceptance and willingness to forgive her for her small mistakes was new, but so very welcome. Raised in a childhood where every failure had been nitpicked to pieces by a overbearing and meticulously cruel father, the siblings had only just come to understand that forgiveness was always a very real option. Slowly, it became their preferred option. They couldn’t afford to become severed again, they were too dependent on each other. Too painfully aware that the other members of the Umbrella Academy were the only people they could ever really turn to - the only ones who could possibly begin to understand.

Only Luther hadn’t said anything, he side-eyed Vanya as she took a seat adjacent to Diego. 

“So… We’re just giving up on it then?” Luther said a little sullenly. It had been his idea, and he had seemed so proud of himself for doing something for one of his sibling for a change - someone other than Allison. Even if it hadn’t been a particularly groundbreaking concept, Vanya felt a little guilty that they were all willing to drop it so easily, especially since Luther seemed to be so invested. “I- I bought a bike pump for the balloons.” 

Muffled snickering came from Diego’s direction and Luther snapped round to stare at him, visible hurt evident on his face.

“Something funny, Number Two?” Luther snapped. Vanya looked at Allison, mildly panicked at Luther’s decision to call Diego by his number - that hadn’t happened in a very long time and it was almost always meant with cruel intentions. Allison was shaking her head at Diego, who seemed fully ready to start problems on purpose. 

In the background, Vanya heard the familiar sound of Five’s power, signalling his disappearance from the scene. Nobody else seemed bothered, or they just hadn’t noticed. Vanya wished she had Five’s power of being able to escape these disputes without consequence - before they even began.

“Yeah actually,” Diego countered, completely disregarding Allison’s plea, “Something about watching a grownass man cry because the dumb party he planned didn’t work out is pretty funny… Number One.”

Luther and Diego had always been going head to head, but Vanya had thought their time in the ‘60s had brought them together. Evidently it had only been temporary because now back in the old mansion they seemed to have been reminded of all the reasons they hated one another, and were fully ready to hurl venomous words at the other every opportunity they got - and knives, in Diego’s case.

Both brothers were both standing now, bristling at each other, clearly waiting for the other to make a move. Glancing over at Allison, who was just gently shaking her head and forlornly watching the scene unfold, Vanya realised the overflowing testosterone wasn’t just giving her a headache.

“Guys,” Vanya found herself saying, “Look, Luther we can still do it tomorrow, right? Same plan, just postponed?” Her brothers seemed to freeze where they stood, startled right out of their aggression. Luther nodded slowly and looked, slightly dazed, at Vanya, then Allison and finally Diego who also nodded mutely. Jesus, they were all so emotionally constipated. 

Funny how something intended for Klaus had turned into something for Luther. Vanya supposed she wasn’t really that surprised, Luther had always been able to do that somehow, and yet they had still dubbed Klaus the attention-seeker because he happened to be extravagant about it. 

By morning, Vanya hoped all the tension of the night before had seeped away in the night. It hadn’t. They ate breakfast individually and all through lunch, Diego and Luther were glaring at each other over the smiley-faced pancakes Mom had technically made for breakfast. It would have been funny if the tension hadn’t managed to leak into all of their moods. Part of Vanya wanted them to go out to the courtyard and have a healthy brawl, to get it out of their systems, but she knew they were supposed to be getting better at communicating. Being a family. 

“Guys?” Allison said, coming down the stairs, seemingly baffled. “Have any of you actually seen Klaus? He’s not in his room.”

Something in Vanya’s gut tightened. Preoccupied by the bristling anger that permeated the whole mansion, nobody - not even Vanya - seemed to notice that Klaus was missing. Not until Allison had literally just pointed it out. His presence had been becoming so small lately, slowly fading into the furniture, and soon enough nobody was even checking. Shame rose in Vanya. This was exactly how she’d been treated as a child and now she was one of the perpetrators. 

“Wasn’t he there last night?” Luther said, hesitantly.

“While you and Diego were squabbling about his surprise party? Yeah, I don’t think so, asshole.” Five said, exasperated, from the other side of the kitchen.  

“Shit,” Diego mumbled, “We were literally supposed to be doing this for him, and we don’t even fucking know where he is.”

That ugly, guilty feeling twisted in Vanya once again. She thought back to yesterday, when she had last seen him. Those haunted eyes and counterfeit boldness, the hurried glances to the seat beside their driver that she hadn’t even processed properly until now; the way he changed his mind so abruptly about going with her to practice, after being so desperate to come. 

“I can call him right now, does anyone know his number?” Vanya offered, trying to make up for having failed so horribly as a sister. 

“He doesn’t have a phone! None of us do.” Diego snarled, pausing for a moment of bristling silence, “Why the fuck does only Vanya have a phone?” Agitation was obviously rising in Diego’s voice. She knew that as much as he outwardly seemed constantly aggravated by Klaus that he cared for him deeply. Vanya sometimes felt that Diego imagined himself as Klaus’ sole protector; she wasn’t sure what had triggered that mentality, because it certainly wasn’t that way when they were kids - if anything Diego had sometimes been openly antagonistic towards Klaus as children. 

Luther shrugged. “We never needed them.”

“Well we clearly fucking do need them!” Diego barked, “Right. We’re all getting phones after we find Klaus.” Diego said, decidedly. Luckily, Luther had the common sense not to object - it was a sensible decision, really. Vanya was truly surprised none of her siblings actually had mobiles.

“Well? What now?” Allison demanded, moving into the room to face her siblings. Instinctively all of their gazes shifted towards Five, looking at him expectantly. He raised his eyebrows dramatically, and shook his head slowly. In Five speak that generally translated to: imbeciles. 

“Don’t look at me,” Five said, teleporting towards them and reaching for the bread, marshmallows and peanut butter - evidently choosing this moment to make himself a Fluffernutter. “I wasn’t here for a large chunk of our childhood, I hardly know any of you.” He had a fair point. To expect Five to know anything about Klaus, after knowing this version of him less than even half a year, was a little unfair. She saw the rest of her siblings go through the exact same thought process and looking abashed. They’d seemingly come to rely on Five to figure everything out for them, but this time it truly was going to have to be a team effort.

“Surely he’ll show up at some point? If anything this is better for the party-”

“Shut up about the party, Luther!” Diego exploded, grinding his teeth in challenge.

“All I’m trying to say,” Luther said carefully, aware that even Allison had sighed at his last remark, “Is that this is Klaus we’re talking about. He’s always wandering off to places.”

“Not anymore, dipshit!” Diego slammed a fist into the table, rattling all the plates and cutlery into an echoing, mocking outrage. Taking several deep breaths, Diego continued, significantly less aggressively but voice still edged with fury, “That’s how he used to be, but he doesn’t do that shit anymore. Not that you’d have noticed.”

Luther prickled. He’d always had this weird leadership mould to fill, and Vanya didn’t think he was ready to let it go just yet. Their father’s lasting influence and expectations were surely resting on Luther’s shoulders more than the rest of them and Vanya knew first-hand how difficult it was to shake their father’s looming grasp. Diego’s implication that Luther didn’t know anything about his own brother - a team member he should be leading - Vanya assumed had seriously stung his pride. She was sure he would have shouted at Diego, if he hadn’t felt Allison’s hand on his arm.

“We’re not going to find him like this.” Allison said plainly. Immediately, both Luther and Diego snapped to attention - as if she had used her Rumour. Vanya had always admired Allison’s influence over others, even without the use of her power. She had such a strong presence, unlike Vanya who had - for most of her life - been too timid for her own good.

It was at that moment that Vanya felt the unity that had blossomed between them in the ‘60s. The Umbrella Academy as a united front. She’d assumed Luther and Diego’s ceaseless bickering was a sign it had died as they travelled back, but it was here now in each of their faces as they nodded solemnly, casting long glances between each other. As they pledged to recover one of their own.

Chapter Text

They were all overwrought after having searched the mansion for their brother, and having come up with nothing. Not trusting that he wouldn’t decide to simply hang out in one of the many random rooms, they had decided to sweep the mansion. Klaus was Klaus, after all. It was impossible to predict his actions. 

Night was falling much quicker than Diego wanted it to and he could feel his siblings glaring at him as he repeatedly punctured the arm of the couch with a silver blade, but nobody questioned him. They could probably see how jittery Diego was and didn’t want a knife thrown their way. Or they just didn’t care about upholstery all that much.

It was still bothering him, what Luther had said earlier. He’s always wandering off to places. It grated at his bones how little Luther seemed to understand Klaus and how much he had grown. He had an outdated picture of Klaus in his mind, and Diego wanted nothing more than to slap it out of him. Diego had always been protective of Klaus - ever since they were very little. In some way, it gave him the sense of purpose he lacked at being placed as Number Two; then there was also the unconditional love he felt for him. He wasn’t sure what it was about Klaus, but they’d always been close despite being such an absurd pairing. Klaus was the only one Diego would check up on after he left the academy. And Mom, of course, but he didn’t make a habit of it - he hated being back under the same roof as his father, even if was only for a couple of hours. 

“So, what now?” Allison said, after a time, “We can’t exactly just sit here and hope he shows up… Can we?” She was hesitant, as though unsure of procedure. The truth was, there was no procedure. When Klaus had disappeared as kids, he was always guaranteed to come back soon enough, for fear of their father. Once they’d all parted ways for good, there didn’t need to be a procedure because, for the most part, they wanted nothing to do with each other.

“No. We can’t.” Five chimed in, much to Diego’s surprise. Diego wouldn’t have taken Five as somebody who would actively show concern for their brother, but then again he had aged 45 years since he’d disappeared into the apocalypse. Who the hell was Diego to say if that was in Five’s character or not. “Who saw him last?”

Timidly, Vanya sighed and waved a small hand, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Her apprehension felt like she was already waving a white flag, despite not actually having said anything.

“I took him to practice with me,” she said, “He practically begged me to take him, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in it - right?”

Diego couldn’t help but smile a little. He knew his brother well enough to know how much that would have meant to him. Feeling awful each and every time he was forced to turn Klaus down when he begged to join him each time he left the mansion, it felt good to know that Vanya had taken up that spot in his place. As foul a taste it left in his mouth, Diego did not regret denying Klaus the ‘sidekick’ position he so desperately wanted. It was too dangerous. Diego refused to lose anybody else ever again.

“So, what?” Luther pressed, “You just let him sit there while you guys played?”

“I mean, yeah, sure, but the thing is we never actually got to practice, we-”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Allison blurted, cutting Vanya off, “Yesterday you said that you’d just got back from practice?”

“Yes. It’s just- It’s just that I actually went alone. We didn’t get there together.” Vanya gulped slightly, clearly aware of how this tidbit was about to be received by her siblings. There was a monumental pause, as each sibling processed the new information.

“Where did he go then?”

“Why didn’t you go together?”

Both Diego and Allison spoke at once, their voices rushing out and mingling into a pool of fear and confusion. And, in Diego’s case, rising ire. 

“I know I was stupid, I shouldn’t have- I should have told you guys, but I just didn’t think that-”

“What happened, Vanya?” Diego said, voice deathly calm. Steady. The crisp peak of a knife just before it came soaring down at someone’s throat.

All eyes in the room were now directed at their smallest sibling. Shy, little Vanya who had spent her childhood stuck in a programmed loop of isolation; Vanya who, up until very recently, nobody would so much as look twice at. The very same sister who now had the nervous, devoted attention of the entire Umbrella Academy.

“We were in a taxi,” she began, squirming  beneath their interrogative gazes, “There was some issue with traffic, we were stuck for quite a while and we just sort of waited. I was really nervous about being late for my- Wait, sorry, that’s not- that’s not important. He said something about there having been an accident on the road or something, and then he just got out the taxi and left. I have no idea where, I’m sorry.”

Time slowed, and every sound ceased to exist. Thudding uneasily against his chest, Diego’s heart hardened in fear. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was afraid of, just that it left a disquieted chasm in the space where the logical part of his brain should be. 

Then, the room erupted into sound.

“Two? Two?” 

A seven year old Number Two blearily blinked awake, unable to see the source of the noise for the darkness of his bedroom. The patting of his head persisted when the voice heard no response - it was a light touch but still somehow frenetic. Two, of course, knew immediately it was Four. This wasn’t the first time his brother had crept down the hallway and into Two’s room in the dead of night. Mom had told him that sometimes Four had nightmares, and that he should be kind to him. Two listened to Mom; she was the nicest person he knew so she must be right.

Two didn’t like to talk very much, so he lifted the corner of his duvet and shuffled up close to the wall. Silently, Four clambered in beside him and quickly curled into his brother’s warmth. Shivering slightly as Four’s ice-cold limbs wormed in beside him in the tiny bed, now pressed up close to Two’s own body. Two let Four snuffle into his pillow for a little while before he heard his breathing become rhythmic with the gentle rise and fall of his scrawny chest. Four was always cold. But that was okay, because Two’s bed was warm enough for the both of them, and he had plenty of warmth to spare. Mom taught him that sharing was a very kind thing to do, and he liked that his brother wasn’t scared anymore.

“Two! Four!” a gruff voice jolted Two from his dreaming, and he bolted upright. Their father was at the doorway. He looked angry. Two nudged Four with his elbow, who was still fast asleep with a thumb in his mouth. His brother let out a small yelp of surprise before his sleep-heavy eyes also fell on their hostile father in the door-frame. “What is the meaning of this? Four, I expect you to be able to sleep within your own chambers, and not have to crowd into your brothers room. I will not tolerate this childish display of weakness!” 

Four, who was now sitting upright with his lip trembling, made a noise as though he intended to protest, but Two squeezed his hand under the covers. Blinking at him in surprise, Two only shook his head pointedly, warning his brother not to make it worse for himself.

“And, you Number Two! You will not accommodate or encourage Four’s weakness. If he ever tries to come back in here, you will report it to me. Is that understood?” 

Two nodded. He didn’t want to look at his brother, who he could feel quivering beside him. Two was stronger than Four, he could take it, but he never blamed Four for being more scared than him. He just wanted to protect him, but now he just couldn’t anymore.

“Four! Come along now. Today we will begin a new, independent training I have devised to vanquish this silly fear.”

Meekly, Four got up out of Two’s bed, still shaking, and followed his father out of the room. He cast a glance back at Two as he left - a glance glazed over by fear, grief and betrayal. Two bit his lip to stop the tears from flowing.

Dad and Four left together only a couple of hours later. The rest of the siblings were still eating at the table, but only Two heard the shuffle of feet at the front door as they went. Quietly, Two rose from his chair and crept out towards the noise. Five held his arm as he got up, knowing that they weren’t supposed to leave the table without permission, but Two shook it free and Five let him. Two didn’t think Five liked the rules very much anyway.

“Where are you going?” Six said anxiously, as Two passed him. Six was always so worried about everything so Two just smiled at him and pointed, letting him know everything was going to be okay. 

“I’m coming back, don’t worry.” Six smiled back, but his eyes were still knitted in concern. 

As Two snuck into a corner from which he could see the grand front doors, he stopped to watch and listen. Their father’s hand was roughly gripping Four’s shoulder and marching him toward the door, as Four squirmed to be set free. Two wanted to throw something at dad - he knew he would hit him. But he also knew that he would punished for it. He didn’t like getting punished.

“Where are we going, dad?” Four asked, bravely.

“You are going to go visit some friends, Number Four. And you will not refer to me by that sentimental title, you will instead address me as ‘sir’, and nothing less. Is that perfectly clear?”

Four nodded solemnly. 

“What friends am I visiting? Sir.” Four pressed, as he was steered out the first door. 

“You shall find out soon enough.” Reginald said briskly. The door quickly closed behind them, and Two couldn’t hear or see anything else. He slunk back to the table, where he saw Six visibly brighten as he sat back down again without consequence. 

Why did Four get to go visit friends? None of them had ever met other children - or people for that matter - other than fans and journalists. Having friends was never in the cards for them - they had to find companionship in one another or be lonely. Until now. Two felt that his worry for his brother was wasted, and if he got caught sneaking around now it would all be for nothing. Four was going to have the most fun any of them had ever had, and Two was so incredibly jealous.

Two didn’t want the smiley-faced pancake that sat grinning at him from his plate. It was his favourite, and he had begged Mom to make it the day before, but he had no appetite now. Even when their father returned some thirty minutes later, Two still hadn’t touched his food. Dad shouted at him for that, which only made Two sadder and more angry.

He folded his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. It was so unfair. Four got to go and meet friends, while the rest of them were stuck here doing boring training and getting yelled at by dad. 

After his siblings had left the table, Two stood his ground staring at the pancake, feeling his eyes begin to well up. It was all so unfair. He couldn’t even enjoy his pancake anymore. 

“Number Two!” Reginald barked, causing Two to jerk violently. “You will eat, and then get ready for training immediately. I have had enough of this impertinence.”

Fearfully, Two quickly shoved large helpings of pancake into his mouth. It stuck uncomfortably to his tongue and to the roof of his mouth; he felt sick and his mouth was clogged with the pulp of his pancake, but he couldn’t seem to swallow as his father glared at him from the other end of the table. He couldn’t show he was scared, he would keep his chin up and chew the pulp to a paste. It was all so unfair. Why should he have to be brave, when Four could have a nightmare and not only not get punished for it, but get virtually praised and rewarded?

Uncertain silence tempered the room that had, up until a few seconds ago, been brimming with crazed frustration. Diego didn’t truly believe that he was angry at any of his siblings - not even Vanya - and wasn’t really sure what they had really been arguing about. He had felt the cutting words tumble from his gaping mouth at Vanya, but was now unaware of any meaning behind them. It was a release of sorts, he supposed, even if he had sworn to not blow up on his smallest sister like that ever again. Allison had stepped in to defend her sister, and of course Luther had soon joined in - god forbid he be left out of a family fight.

It only took Five blinking into the middle of their triangle of pent-up rage for them to come to an abrupt halt, and stare at their oldest-youngest brother sheepishly, as though caught doing something they shouldn’t have. 

Diego’s heavy breathing had hitched as he saw Vanya, who had seemingly not moved at all and was just staring at the three of them in the picture of melancholy. He knew he had done that; he was responsible for the forlorn varnish painted across her face. It was like being stabbed.

“Sorry.” Diego said miserably. And he meant it.

He looked at Five, who looked repulsed but not in any way that wasn’t permanently fixed to his inappropriately young face. A bellow of laughter sounded from behind. Diego flinched involuntarily, and saw that Allison was doubled over in laughter. Allison’s laugh, in the few times he’d heard it childhood, had always been loud - perhaps obnoxiously so, although Diego had never thought so. It was infectious.

Diego tittered nervously, and flashed Luther a grimaced look. Luther returned in turn with a look Diego could only interpret as utterly horrified; they were both certain their sister had completely lost it.

“Sorry, sorry,” Allison heaved, “We’re just so shit at this. Maybe we really do need therapy.”

“No!” Luther and Diego said in unison, which only sent Allison into peals of renewed laughter. Bewildered, the remaining siblings stood awkwardly to Allison’s homemade laugh-track, until Diego himself cracked up. What could he say, Allison’s laugh really was so damn infectious.

Soon enough, the atmosphere changed from the bitter, brokenness Diego had always associated with this stupid mansion to something entirely new. Something they’d crafted themselves, as a united force. As a family.

Maybe they were shit at whatever family was supposed to be, but whatever this was, was more than enough for Diego. They were dysfunctional and occasionally tore apart at the seams - their father had seen to that - but Diego didn’t want any other group of people for siblings. Even Luther.

Two was busy polishing his knives. They still had around an hour before training, but it was something he liked to do in his free time. Those little, meticulous, actions grounded him and gave him something to hold onto. A lot had changed since they had been little kids, they were 12 now and that meant they had started going on proper missions. He had swelled with pride on that first mission, they were finally everything their father had wanted them to be. 

Almost. Four had also changed. Since he had first visited their father’s Friends - which he still visited regularly - he had grown less timid by the year. Sillier, more reckless and more resistant to their father’s demands - which often got the rest of them in trouble too. Four didn’t need Two’s protection anymore. In honesty, Four didn’t seem to need anybody anymore - not Two or Mom or anyone. Where he had once been fearful, he was now loud and obnoxious; where he had once been dependent on Two, he now only seemed to care about winding him up and talking his mouth off. It was a new normal. A normal Two had still not adjusted to in four years.

Two still loved him dearly, but he wondered where the change had come from. Deep down, Two might have known it was something to do with the Friends. They were probably annoying too, but Two still wanted to meet them and harboured a lingering jealousy since that very first day Four had gone to see them. When Four had gotten back in the evening on the very first time, they had all pestered him to tell them where he’d gone, what he’d done. Selfishly, he refused and decided to keep it to himself. Two asked and asked for an entire year and eventually gave up. None of the rest of them were going to get to meet the Friends, and he would just have to get used to that.

“Hey, Two!” 

Speak of the devil. Four was leaning on Two’s door-frame, a gleaming, mischievous glint in his eyes. Upon further inspection, Two noticed his brother wasn’t so much leaning on the door-frame but rather clinging to it for dear life. He was wearing tall, red heels and wobbled when standing. Mom’s heels. Two stifled a drawn-out groan of frustration - he did not have time for this.

“You think that- Woah!” Four teetered, and gripped the door-frame tighter, “You think that I look like a Karl? Fritz?” Two didn’t respond, just fixed his brother with one of his signature glares, hoping he’d get the message and leave him in peace with his knives. He did not get the message. “I feel like a Fritz would definitely wear these shoes…” Four said contemplatively. He looked up at Two with whimsical mirth, as though taunting him with expression alone.

“They’re both stupid.” Two said sullenly.

Mom had been helping them all pick out names. Real names. Two was delighted by the idea - he despised his name, it only served as a dull-bladed reminder that he would always, always be second-best. 

“You’ll regret that once I’m Fritz Hargreeves,” Four joked.

“I really won’t. It’ll still be stupid.”

“Lighten up, Bruder! It’s not like you have anything good picked out anyway.”

This much was true, Two thought begrudgingly. He had been racking his mind ever since the idea had been suggested last week, and nothing felt right to him. It had to be a name fully his own. He wanted to be his own person.

“Get out, Four.” Two said, growing more tired of his brother’s shenanigans by the second. 

Four gave an over-dramatic, resigned sigh and staggered backwards on the heels a little, but quickly hoisted himself back upright. “Okay! Okay! I’ll leave you to your shiny, throwing friends, but… but it’s Karl-Fritz to you! Hm, you like the doubling? I think that’s quite smart, I-” 

A yelp sounded from his brother, as a knife lodged right above where he was clinging to the door-frame. He almost stumbled over entirely, but thankfully he had more than one hand holding him steady. Or not thankfully. Two wouldn’t have minded seeing him fall on his butt.

Instead of seeming angry, Four just looked pensive for a moment, eyes glittering in thought. Two knew that look; knew all too well what it meant. And, sure enough…

“Moooom!”

Four scrambled - still tottering - from the room in search of their mother, ready to get Mom to tell him off. When had his brother become such a pain in his ass?

Two closed his door, where it shut with a gentle, click - hoping that Mom would understand. She usually did. Leaning with his back to the door, Two was tempted to simply slide to the floor and put his head in his hands. A large part of him wanted the younger Four back, the one who would crawl, icy-limbed and sodden-faced, into his bed where they would lie nestled together as though they were the only people in the world.

A series of clomping noises suddenly sounded from beyond his door as Four went dashing down the stairs. Followed by a deafening thud. Instinctively, Two sped from his room and peered over the bannister at the wide, grand stairs that led to his bedroom. 

Four was lying face-down on the linoleum at the foot of the staircase, immobile. The breath was knocked out of Two, and time ticked past in endless seconds as he stared at his brother at the foot of the stairs, heels now discarded from the fall. Was this his fault?

Driven by only instinct and adrenaline, Two sped down the stairs himself - narrowly missing the very same fate as his brother - and crouched at his side, heart beating like a wild creature caged. He couldn’t be… dead? Could he? Not Four. Four was too loud, too obnoxious to die - he was sure even the afterlife couldn’t hold his brother in one place for very long. It just wasn’t right.

Panic rose up through his chest and to his throat, hands hovering above his brother, afraid to touch him - afraid to learn what he feared the most. This was his fault, he should’ve entertained him for longer so wouldn’t punt himself off the stairs in running to get Mom. 

Mom. Two looked around desperately, and saw his Mom hurrying towards the scene; Two thanked just about every otherwordly force for her presence - he wasn’t sure what he would have done without her, his saving grace. 

Wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, Two stepped away and let his mother take over as he stood a few feet away, holding his breath. Mom wasn’t saying anything as she checked over his brother, which left some kind of gaping, frightened chasm of uncertainty in Two’s gut. 

“I-is he?” Two choked out from the sidelines, not quite able to finish the horrible thought that rested tauntingly at the tip of his tongue.

Mom turned to him wide-eyed, then smiled at him gently. The smile that was honeyed and warm, like one of her tight embraces.

“Oh, no, sweetie. He’s going to be just fine, don’t you worry.” She smiled that comforting smile again before turning back to his brother. Two almost wept for relief - everything was going to be okay. Mom was here and Four would be okay.

“He fell?” Mom tutted softly. Two nodded mutely. “In my shoes, no less!” she exclaimed, as her eyes flicked towards the heels only a few feet away, chuckling softly. Even Two was tempted to laugh, his Mom’s love always made him so happy.

“Honey?” she was saying softly to his brother. Two had always liked that she never called them by their numbers, instead defaulting to pet names that had become so wonderfully familiar to them all. “I’m going to need you to sit up for me, okay sweetheart?”

Groaning from his boneless position, Four protested in his typical fashion but after some more gently coaxing from Mom he sat upright. From where he stood, Two could clearly see the damage and he winced slightly. Blood bloomed from the side of his head at his hairline, and began trickling into his eyes where they mixed with silent tears. Two’s eyes, however, were fixed on the blood that came from his brother’s mouth in a steady stream. He’d found that many of the bad guys he’d killed would bleed from their mouths as they died, and it was terrible to see the same of his brother; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look at the bodies the same way again.

Grace placed a soft hand on Four’s jawline, who pulled back immediately. There was a pause in which Two could only assume was Mom giving Four a very pointed look, before she was once again feeling his face. She hummed softly, before stroking the side of his face lovingly. Two was almost jealous at that point, before realising that she wasn’t just his Mom, and that Four had apparently just fallen face first down half a flight of stairs.

“Can you walk?” Mom said delicately. Four slowly pushed himself from the ground and grabbed Mom’s hand for support - most likely an emotional support more than a physical. His brother seemed a little unsteady, but Two could easily chalk that up to pain and nerves. “Good job, honey. I’m just going to check you over downstairs - okay?” 

Then Mom and Four walked hand in hand down to where Mom could further assess the damages. Left alone, Two walked over to Mom’s heels that had been left strewn across the floor. He would put them back in her room for her; Mom was always doing nice things for them, it was about time he returned the favour.

A few hours later, after they had all come back thoroughly battered from their mission, they all - even Seven - went to see Four in the infirmary. When Four hadn’t showed up for the mission, it was left to Two to explain, trembling, to his father the reason for his absence. For some reason, their father had decided the rest of them needed berating for Four’s accident. Typical. Four always got away with everything, and even got rewarded in return with (sometimes weeklong!) trips outside the mansion.

They piled into the room and hovered at the doorway, Two out in front. This was unusual since One usually demanded to be first for everything, but Two supposed that One was probably still angry at Four for landing them all with an impromptu and vicious lecture from their father. He didn’t really think it was fair to direct the anger at Four since it wasn’t him being hurtful, but Two would never have said it for the knowledge he’d probably be in the minority with that opinion. Besides, he was the only one who had seen Four’s crying, broken face after the accident - he doubted his siblings would be so callous if they had seen it for themselves.

Mom held a finger to her lips in a shushing motion as they all entered, her eyes greeting them warmly. 

“It’s best he has some peace and quiet my darlings, he was in a lot of pain.” They all nodded solemnly; they would always listen to Mom, being as she was the only real parent they had in their lives.

Awkwardly, they all stood around Four’s bedside who blinked at them dozily before wiggling his eyebrows in greeting. The entire left side of his face was now bruised and mildly swollen, but at least the blood was gone. Nobody spoke. They stood in a cluster of prepubescent limbs and hormones, unsure of what to say.

Four himself seemed somehow perfectly unphased by the uncomfortable silence. He wasn’t sure what it was, but his brother seemed lighter than he’d ever been and was gazing at them all with drowsy, contented eyes.

“How are you?” Three said, always the bravest of the lot of them.

Four looked as though he was about to respond, before Mom placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head firmly. Slackening in disappointment, Four’s eyes fell down to the bedsheets.

“Unfortunately,” Mom said with a cheerful clarity, “Your brother broke his jaw in the accident, and shouldn’t be speaking as much as he can. Especially before I wire his jaw.”

“Wire his jaw?” Two said, thoroughly disturbed. Images of large metal poles around the whole of his brother’s head flashed through his mind and he grimaced. The sentiment seemed to be shared by the rest of siblings who all tittered nervously amongst themselves, shifting their weight between both feet uncomfortably. 

“Don’t look so scared, silly!” Mom teased, gently, “It’s just a little bit of metal in his mouth that’ll keep it steady, until it’s nice and strong again. You probably won’t even notice it.”

“Can he speak? Eat?” Ever-concerned Seven had piped up from the back of the group, her eyes widened in doe-like fear.

“Yes. But he shouldn’t move his jaw as much as possible for the next six to eight weeks.”

Two could feel the academy exchanging glances behind him, no doubt thinking the same thing. A quiet Four (for such a long time!) seemed so peaceful. Perhaps this wasn’t quite as bad as Two had feared it would be…

“Okay, playtimes over. We still need to locate Klaus.”

Five’s commanding tone sapped at whatever illuminating moment Diego had just been having, but he knew he was right. They weren’t a family without him. Or Ben, for that matter, but if they found Klaus, they’d find Ben too. Maybe, after they found him, Klaus would finally manifest their dead brother. So they could all truly be together. As family.

Murmured agreement was passed around the room, and suddenly all the attention was on Five. 

“Again, I have to remind you morons that I barely know the guy. 45 years in the apocalypse, remember?”

It was a force of habit to turn to Five to solve every problem for them, and he and his siblings seemed not yet to have learned that the kid did not actually have all the answers. Sure, he could recount Commission rules from memory, but when it came to trivia on his siblings Five didn’t know shit.

One by one their attention drifted slowly to Luther - their Number One - who was currently absentmindedly playing with the glove on his left hand. Noticing their stare, Luther gaped at them mutely, aware that he’d suddenly been elected leader again by default. 

“Oh- Um-” Luther said, eyes darting from sibling to sibling as though he could absorb some brilliant idea from one of them.

“Actually,” said Five, contemplatively, saving Luther from whatever nonsense he was about to come out with, “Vanya can I borrow your phone?” 

Vanya raised an eyebrow, but quickly unlocked her phone and passed it to Five. He took it and unsteadily began tapping on the screen with his forefinger. It was painfully slow, and Diego was abruptly reminded that his brother was technically old enough to be his father at this point. He was, in all regards, a grandfather when it came to technology; Diego wondered if he’d ever even seen a cell-phone.

After a few anguished minutes, Five handed the phone back to Vanya. He looked strangely smug for somebody who had just struggled to use a phone in front of almost all his siblings.

“He was right, by the way.” A chorus of garbled ‘What’s’ came from the rest of the siblings, as Five spoke again. “Klaus. He was right.”

“None of this cryptic bullshit, please Five. What was he right about?” Diego demanded, in no mood for riddles and mystery.

“Vanya, you mentioned that in the taxi he said there’d been an accident, and that caused the traffic?” Vanya nodded slowly, visibly confused as to where Five was going with this. “Well, there definitely was an accident. Three cars collided at a junction. Six dead, four in critical condition - apparently.”

“So?” Luther said

“So, Luther you big moron, Klaus says there’s an accident and leaves shortly after-”

“Oh my god,” Luther said, eyes widened, “You think he went to go help those people?”

“What?” Five said, looking distressed that his brother seemed to truly be lacking on an intellectual level, “No! No, Luther you simple-minded idiot. It’s not about where he went, but why. How do you think Klaus knew about that accident? Do I need to remind you imbeciles of what his power is?”

Five was twitching in frustration, and staring at his siblings in turn as though trying to see the cogs slowly turning in each of their minds. Soon enough, realisation seeped into each one of them and looked at Five in a jumble of shock, horror and dismay.

“Shit.”

Chapter Text

The dread that settled over the room was suffocating. Allison was sure they were all thinking the same thing, and she felt terrible about it. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Klaus, just sometimes it was difficult to detach themselves from the image he had cultivated in their minds for almost as long as they could remember. She wanted to believe anything else, but the thoughts from the darkest corners of her mind kept creeping back to those countless years where she would receive calls from rehab, from prison, from the hospital or even from Klaus himself in the earlier years. The phone calls that chilled her blood until she had simply stopped picking up; she hated herself for it but the weight on her mind as a result of worrying about her brother almost every single day had eventually gotten too much to handle. 

“So… What?” Luther asked timidly, glancing at each of his siblings in turn. His eyes lingered on Allison’s. They’d looked to each other for support for as long as she could remember. Allison had once thought that meant they were in love. She’d read so many sappy romances as a kid and had craved something like that. Something that belonged to her, a love created all on her own, and somehow that had been projected onto her brother. Since travelling to the sixties, since meeting Ray, she’d realised she had no idea what romance really was. Not with Patrick, and certainly not with Luther. She loved all her siblings, of course she did, but years of deprived interaction from the outside world had led her to sorely misinterpret whatever she and Luther shared. Just another thing she could blame their father for. 

Diego’s eyes were hard and defiant and was biting on his lip, arms folded defensively. Allison knew he had always been the closest to Klaus, and had played the protector role since they were toddlers. She remembered countless occasions Diego had defended their wayward brother when the rest of them wouldn’t dare. Even to Dad’s face, when he had been feeling particularly brave. She’d always secretly admired him for that, maybe now they’re were all making attempts at being a proper family she would tell him.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Diego said, voice steady, “Klaus hasn’t been scared of ghosts since we were like… eight.”

Allison remembered. One day Klaus had just changed. She had never been sure if she just hadn’t noticed a gradual shift in character or if it had happened overnight, but Klaus had gone from timid to obnoxious over the course of what seemed like a week. It was strange now to think that he’d ever been so fearful in the first place. 

“Who said he was scared?” Five said, bluntly, “Again, you guys know him better than me. Maybe they told him something that he just didn’t mention to Vanya.”

Five was right. They’d all jumped to the worst possible conclusion without considering that maybe Klaus was simply on his own supernatural mission. None of them really knew what his powers entailed, for all they knew Klaus could simply be finishing some poor souls unfinished business. It wasn’t fair for her to assume he had reverted back to old habits simply because he was missing. Allison felt her shoulders loosen and her heart cease its pounding.

“Five’s right,” Allison said brightly, “There’s a million reasons for Klaus to have left in a hurry, it’s not necessarily-” She stopped, leaving the unspeakable hanging in the air. It was always uncomfortable vocalising it. They all knew what she meant, anyway.

There was a contented nodding, Diego looking visibly sunnier, and that was that. Maybe Luther had been right after all; maybe waiting for him to show up really was the best course of action.

As they were all leaving the room, Allison felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see Vanya awkwardly looking at her with those same frightened eyes she had worn in childhood - the eyes that crept out of hiding every now and again, even after they had all tried so hard to make up for all the time they lost with her as kids. Some things would require a lot more healing, Allison thought regretfully. She hated what they’d collectively done to Vanya without even realising; she couldn’t begin to imagine how much she would actively despise any kid if they did that to Claire. 

“Allison. I think that- I think that maybe Five is wrong.”

“Wrong?” Allison said, incredulous. The words ‘Five’ and ‘wrong’ just didn’t seem compatible. “Wrong about what?”

“Klaus,” Vanya said. Upon seeing Allison’s perplexed reaction she hurriedly continued, “I just mean that, well… In the taxi, he seemed, I don’t know, different? Like the whole trip he was kind of quiet? Or… Or like he was thinking about something? Just- He didn’t say much.”

That was strange. Just as ‘Five’ and ‘wrong’ were incompatible, Klaus had never been synonymous with ‘quiet’. 

“Vanya, I don’t know… Maybe he was just listening to Ben or-”

“That’s not it.”

Vanya sounded so sure of herself that Allison was caught off-guard. She didn’t think the idea had been that absurd, but then again Vanya was the one who had been there.

“Okay, so… Where are you going with this?”

“I’m not sure, I just- I just have a bad feeling... I mean can you even remember the last time you heard Klaus speak?” Vanya pressed, wringing her hands.

“Vanya, that’s ridiculous! I mean Klaus is the most-” 

Allison stopped in her tracks because Vanya was, in actuality, right. She couldn’t remember. Thinking back, she had barely noticed Klaus in the past week. Weeks? She had been about to say Klaus was always the largest, boldest presence in the room, that there was no way she could miss him in a crowd. And yet, somehow, she hadn’t noticed him for a while now.

“Shit.” Vanya looked up at her, utterly drenched in the melancholy Allison was sure she too reflected. “How did that happen? I mean, he’s so loud… I-”

Trailing off, Allison shook her head in disbelief. They were so caught up in their return and their dedication to being a family again that they’d somehow neglected to notice a member growing more and more distant. The irony of it all was so staggering, Allison might have laughed if she wasn’t so drained and upset.

“I don’t know. I just needed to tell someone. I- I- feel like such a shitty sister, I could’ve done something, but I was only focussed about getting to practice on time, I didn’t even think-”

“Hey, hey. Vanya, no, don’t say that. None of us realised. Even now. You’re literally the only person in this house to detect that anything was wrong - maybe a little late now but…” Allison saw her sisters face crumble again, “Hey, it took you literally laying it out for me for me to notice. If anything, I’m the shitty sister, okay?”

Vanya only nodded meekly and shuffled off towards her bedroom. Hers was still the furthest away from the rest of them, on the very lowest floor after Klaus had knocked down the wall between their rooms. 

She supposed she should follow Vanya’s example and go to bed herself. As she climbed the stairs that feeling of unease blossomed in her chest, a flower that was seeded to the forefront of her mind. Part of her wanted to make the others get redressed and start a search for their brother, but she felt she owed it to Klaus to trust him. He’d been so fixated on being sober, and up until now he’d been doing so well. That’s why Luther had even come up with the idea of that disaster of a party. Anyways, Vanya had always been more anxious, more prone to overthinking. Maybe that’s all this was.

Yet the foul seed had been planted in her mind, and she trusted Vanya’s judgement. She carried it with her to her bedroom and lay restlessly in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

Allison was usually a light sleeper, but tonight sleep didn’t even seem to be a possibility. Vanya’s words echoed through her mind as she lay on her back, eyes glued to the ceiling - she couldn’t shake them, hard as she tried.

Her old pink alarm clock she had recently put new batteries in screamed green numbers into the dark. 3:47am. Allison groaned and put a pillow over her face - she was going to be exhausted tomorrow, and she needed to reinstate the Klaus search mission. Emotions were always so much harder to handle when she was tired.

A scuffling sounded from way below her, and Allison sat bolt upright. Soon after came the sound of shattering glass. The sounds were distant, and if Allison hadn’t been so damned alert at such an early hour she was sure she wouldn’t have heard it. She wondered if Mom had heard, and if she had if she’d even do anything about it. Her programming to be a protector had been shut off for Dad’s grand plan, and she was pretty sure it hadn’t been turned on again.

Grabbing the knife Diego had given her to keep on her bedside, Allison crept out from her room, back to the wall. God, she could not deal with this right now - she was stressed enough as it was, she did not have the energy for fighting criminals. 

For what she assumed was a thief, they were hardly taking much care in keeping quiet. There was far too much scuffling for this criminal to have any experience at all. Not that it mattered, apparently. From what it looked like this criminal could probably set off an air horn, and the house would sleep on. 

Knife poised and held to her face, Allison heard the impostor clattering up the stairs towards their rooms. As they came up to the corner Allison was waiting behind, she lurched from her crouched position and grabbed their shoulder, knife hovering at their throat. It wasn’t until that moment that she realised she was in fact clutching the shoulder of her missing brother.

“Klaus?”

“Allison!” he said, seemingly unphased by the knife at his throat, “Hi! Fancy seeing you here…”

She held onto him for a couple of moments, as her brain processed seeing her brother appear in front of her after spending almost half the night worrying about him. If she hadn’t been so relieved she probably would have slapped him. Slowly, she removed the knife she realised she still held at Klaus’ throat and released him.

Klaus began to push past her in the dark, but Allison held out an arm to block his passage. He was not getting off that lightly - not anymore; they had agreed that they weren’t going to do anything alone, that each and every one of them would always have the full support of the others.

“What?” Klaus whined, “I’m so tired, I just want to sleep.”

“I mean it is like… four in the morning,” Allison countered, folding her arms in a way she often did with Claire, “Where were you?”

“Oh, you know,” Klaus said, trying to duck - unsuccessfully - under Allison’s arm, “Out and about. Enjoying the sights and such…”

“Don’t bullshit me, Klaus.”

“I’m not! I’m not! No bullshitting here, just…” Klaus trailed off. In the darkness, Allison could feel the flailing of his arms as he tried to defend himself.

“Just?”

“Look, don’t get me wrong, I would love to stand here and chat in a dark hallway in the wee hours of the morning, but I’m beat… So if you wouldn’t mind just moving-” Klaus made an attempt to dodge around her, and this time she let him. He did have a point after all; it was late and they were both tired. Maybe it would be better for everyone to pick this up in the morning.

“Fine. Fine,” Allison sighed through gritted teeth as she watched the shape of her brother slink to his room. From behind her, she saw his fairy lights click on as she closed her own door. 

Allison woke late. Really late. She wasn’t sure whether her alarm had simply not worked or if she’d slept through it, but it was the latest she’d woken in years. The smells of breakfast still wafted from the kitchen downstairs, so she hoped that meant the others had awoken late too. 

Dressing quickly and rubbing sleep from her eyes, she stepped out of room confidently, trying to regain some composure. She paused outside Klaus’ room. The door was ajar, and there was no noise from inside. Quietly, she pushed it open and peered in to see her brother - still fully dressed - face down on top of his bed covers. Soft light still came from the fairy lights, but Allison almost hadn’t noticed they were still on from the sunlight streaking through the window. From the looks of it, Klaus seemed to have turned the lights on and then simply flopped onto his bed without a second thought. He wasn’t lying then, when he said he’d been exhausted.

She let him sleep, and went down to join the others.

“Well, Klaus is back.” Allison announced to the room of her siblings who had only just finished breakfast from the dirty dishware that littered the table.

She had all of their attention immediately.

“What? When?” Diego said, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Last night… I couldn’t sleep,” a quick glance at Vanya showed that the same had been true of her sister, her hair was disheveled and the circles beneath her eyes were more prominent than usual, “And I heard him come in. I held a knife to his throat - thought it was a break-in.”

Diego snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right for him.”

Mom came into the room, smiling as she always did. “Good morning, Allison dear. I saved you some breakfast.” 

“Thanks Mom,” Allison nodded gratefully; she was starving, “That’d be great.”

Humming gently, Mom busied herself with Allison’s breakfast. Allison glanced over the room: Five was currently perched on the counter with a coffee; Luther, Vanya and Diego sat at the table and had been in discussion before Allison had entered; Mom was happily cooking in the background. If somebody had shown Allison this scene as a kid, she would’ve scoffed. Never had she thought, not in a million years, that something so simple - so domestic - would ever suit them. She was so unbelievably glad to be wrong.

“So where is he now?” Diego asked, after a few minutes of just the sizzling of bacon and egg from the stove.

“Sleeping.”

Diego nodded curtly. “I’ll go wake him up, we should get those phones we talked about.”

“Not yet,” Allison said, grabbing Diego’s arm as he moved to stand, “Let him sleep a bit longer, he said he was exhausted.”

Sitting down mutely, Diego made a gruff noise of agreement. Soon enough, he had gotten out one of his knives, and was twirling it between his fingers. 

“Careful, Diego dear,” Mom said, coming up behind him and reaching to place Allison’s plate in front of where she had seated herself next to Vanya, “You could take someone’s eye out.”

Had it not been their Mom, Allison was sure Diego would have made some comment on the nature of his power. Instead he nodded at her and sheathed the knife he had been playing with. It would forever astound Allison how Diego - a vigilante, batman wannabe who dressed exclusively in black and knives - would listen to nobody except his Mom. She thought it was sweet, in a way. Even if she was technically a robot, she was the closest thing to a parental figure any of them had ever had.

Five suggested just blinking in, buying five phones and leaving but Allison had forced them all to wait for Klaus. Embarrassingly, he was kind of looking forward to it. It would be the first proper outing they’d had as siblings that didn’t involve some twisted scheme their father had devised - even then it was usually only without Vanya. Suspecting a lot of them secretly also enjoyed the idea of spending some quality time together, they all allowed Allison to force them into occupying themselves while they waited for Klaus to finally wake up. Allison had never really known - or been interested - in what her siblings did in their free time, but she got a personal kick out of imagining Diego alone in his room tending to his knives like a mother hen.

Klaus had tried to teach Allison to knit when they’d got back from the past, but admittedly he hadn’t really been much good at it himself. She was determined to beat him at knitting - whatever that meant - and was now sitting on her bed struggling to remember the stitches Klaus had shown her. She wished she could just look it up on YouTube, but as of now she still didn’t have a phone. 

While she wanted to spend that time with her siblings, the very prospect of having a mobile was in itself exciting to Allison. She’d never replaced the phone she’d forgotten at her old house with Patrick and Claire, and the thought of potentially being able to face-time her daughter filled Allison with newfound optimism. Being able to actually see her daughter’s face alongside her voice. 

She still missed Claire so much that it physically hurt. Even though she had only recently seen her again - for the first time in what had, to Allison, been almost three years - she stilled mourned every moment she wasn’t with her. That day, though, had been one of the most magical days of her life. Claire had finally met Luther, her hero, for the first time in her life. Spaceboy. The smile on her face had melted Allison’s heart.

Her court-mandated therapy had also started recently and it really wasn’t as bad as she’d expected it to be. Surprisingly she had even found herself revealing everything to the therapist. Everything. From her emotionally absent father, to the way she used her powers to achieve almost everything, to the way she’d been rendered voiceless for her skin colour at a time she was already mute. She talked about Ray, about Claire, about each and every one of her siblings and the way they’d been emotionally stifled since the day of their birth. About how she now refused to use her powers, from the immense weight of the mistakes she had made with it. By the end, the therapist was probably almost as exhausted as Allison herself but wasn’t in a position to doubt her story - she had been told about the nature of Allison’s upbringing and couldn’t really dispute it.

It wasn’t until it had all come tumbling from her mouth in a torrent of over thirty years worth of hurt, that Allison realised how strange her life really was. Whether it was the slight open-mouthed expression the therapist wore at some points in the narrative or if it was simply how long she sat talking, recounting her whole life story to the woman in the chair, Allison grasped for the first time how messy everything had always been. She supposed she never noticed it, never had time to realise it, because she had never known anything different. It was strange to suddenly see your life from another’s eyes - somebody ordinary. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry for the regular life she could have led. All she knew for sure was that she felt physically lighter after the session.

From downstairs, Allison heard Diego’s familiar vehement voice yelling, loud and incoherent, about something or another. She rolled her eyes, she really hoped it wasn’t Luther again. Part of her had hoped they would have kept their squabbling to the friendly teasing they’d adopted in the ‘60s, but since being back in the mansion voices were often raised. Usually Diego's. Allison thought that all being under the same roof again probably invited this kind of conflict between the first two numbers in their father’s shitty numbering system.

Diego’s petulant voice did not cease, although his volume dropped significantly after the initial eruption, so Allison groaned and resignedly put down her mess of knitting needles and yarn and walked down the stairs to the living room. It wasn’t like she was getting very far on the knitting front anyway. 

Downstairs, she was greeted by Vanya and Five who were standing together, Five leaning against one of the pillars, looking out onto the scene in front of them. At Diego yelling, but as Allison quickly saw, Luther wasn’t anywhere in sight. Instead, Diego was passionately unloading his frustrations on Klaus who was sitting nonchalantly on one of their ratty couches. How had she not noticed Klaus leave his room? 

Despite the overflow of Diego’s personal grievances with their brother, Allison couldn’t help but do a double take as she initially spotted Klaus draped over one of the arms of the couch, airily taking on all of Diego’s complaining. Klaus’ hair was different. Obviously, given the darkness that lay like night’s blanket over the pair of them the night before, she hadn’t been able to see Klaus but she now realised he looked different since she’d last seen him. Somehow, he’d clearly been straightening it throughout their time time in the ‘60s. Now it was fluffier, curlier and bouncing slightly as he shook his head at Diego or shifted positions. Allison realised she had almost completely forgotten her brother’s hair wasn’t completely straight, but rather wavier - floatier. As much as it took her by surprise, she had to admit it looked really good. It suited him better this way. 

“-do that? We agreed to not leave each other hanging like that, man.”

Allison watched Diego almost pitifully. Of all of them, he was most invested in his family becoming one united force. Team Zero, he had called it. He had done his best to enforce that in that shitshow of a supper with their father in the ‘60s. She still felt bad about it - not having Diego’s back - but she and her siblings were equally terrified of their father and hadn’t wanted to encourage his barrage of cruelty on themselves. It was selfish of them, she knew that, but in a lifetime of having to watch out for themselves and only themselves she found it difficult to shake that self-preserving mentality.

Still, Allison didn’t suppose it was fair for Diego to unleash all of that on Klaus - as apathetic as he seemed to Diego’s stream of consciousness anger. She looked to Vanya who just shrugged and smiled weakly. Five was tapping his foot on the marble, and staring intently from Diego and then to Klaus. He seemed impatient, rippling with a surplus of energy, clearly wanting to get going.

Soon enough, her eldest/youngest brother blinked to the middle of the room, and grabbed Diego by the arm looking up at him with some strange combination of calculated threat and insanity. Stopping in his tracks, Diego stared down at his brother, mouth gaping slightly at having suddenly been grabbed out of nowhere. 

“Look, could you save your little domestic for your own time? We don’t have the time for this.” Five practically hissed at Diego, releasing his forearm like dead weight. Allison almost choked on a laugh at Five’s bluntness, she certainly had missed his crazy defiant attitude after he left - he was probably the only one of them to ever properly stand up to dad. 

Diego pursed his lips and nodded bitterly, glaring at Klaus in the process, who no longer seemed to even be paying attention. It surprised her that Klaus was taking everything so well, without even one snide, cocky remark. She marvelled at his self-control. 

“Where’s Luther?” Five said, turning back to Allison.

“Here.” Luther’s voice came from the foot of the stairwell, drawing Allison’s eyes towards him. His hair was still damp from the shower and he looked bashful as he came towards them, probably aware of the fact he was last to arrive for what was probably the first time in his life. Smiling at him in greeting, Allison saw Luther’s eyes flick towards Klaus before flashing a pointed I-told-you-so look at Diego. Diego’s glare in response was as sharp as the knives he threw.

They caught Klaus up to speed, and soon enough they were braving the bracing New York winds huddled like a group of unruly schoolchildren. Much of the tension from earlier had dissipated as soon as they left the mansion, and they were talking amicably amongst themselves as they dodged the throngs of the afternoon sidewalk traffic. Somehow they’d all managed to group off into pairs: her and Luther; Diego and Klaus; Five and Vanya. 

Leading the group with Vanya at his side, Five seemed to even be enjoying himself. He’d always been close with Vanya when they’d been kids, and it was with her that Allison ever truly saw his softer side. In her heart, she knew he cared, but that was only ever obvious with Vanya. While the rest of them had been so easily manipulated into ignoring Vanya, playing into their father’s sick game of isolation, Five had always made a conscious effort to show he cared. None of the rest of them had understood it. Except Ben.

Ben and Five had been closest to Vanya in childhood. Allison would often catch the trio together where their father couldn’t find them - behind bookshelves or in empty rooms - and separate Vanya from them. At the time, Allison had been far too self-obsessed to understand their motivations, too wrapped up in her own life and too scared of being caught that she hadn’t even stopped to consider that Ben and Five were right. She wondered how much those moments had meant to Vanya. And how much it would have hurt when they were both gone.

Bitter and chilling, Allison was suddenly hit with that same grief she felt on that snowy day over seventeen years ago. When they’d stared at Ben’s epitaph, tears freezing in the air knowing that their brother was gone. Their brother who was always the gentlest of all of them, the kindest and most loving. He was gone and it had been their fault. Allison was aware of Luther watching her with large, concerned eyes as their steps on the sidewalk became their only conversation. The grief she’d felt for losing both Five and Ben was never something that had left Allison, but while they now had Five back, Ben was still dead and unobtainable. Unless…

Allison stopped in her tracks and turned back towards where Diego and Klaus were supposed to be. Somehow, her brothers had managed to fall farther behind the group than she’d realised, only visible as small shapes amongst the pedestrians that scattered the sidewalk. Grabbing Vanya’s arm, who spun around alarmed, Allison pointed towards the now increasing outlines of Diego and Klaus to signal that they should wait. Vanya smiled and relayed the message to Five, who peered past Luther and Allison to see how far behind the pair were and muttered something under his breath that sounded alarmingly like ‘useless imbeciles’.

A disgruntled Diego holding Klaus by the arm finally caught up to them. 

“Someone else's turn to babysit,” Diego said roughly, shoving the aforementioned baby towards the group. The ‘baby’ then staggered into Luther who looked, flustered, down at where Klaus had gripped his arm.

“Not a very nice way to treat your elders, bro.” Klaus tittered, still holding onto Luther’s arm. Allison stifled a groan; Klaus was technically the oldest now and he would not shut up about it. Every chance he got, he would find some way to remind them that he was dropped into the ‘60s way before any of the rest of them. Allison had memorised the numbers from the amount of times they came out of Klaus’ mouth: he was 4 years and 7 months older than he should be. That put his landing in ‘59, way before Allison fell into the alley on that dark night in 1961.

Five was already walking back down the street without another word, Vanya at his tail. 

“Wait!” Allison called out, determined to accomplish the reason for her stopping in the first place. Five waited. Even in compliance, Allison still felt threatened by the way Five turned his attention towards her. “Klaus is Ben here? Do you think you think you could summon him? I just think it would be nice if we-”

“Ben?” Klaus asked quizzically, as though he had no idea who she could possibly be referring to, “Ben… Nope! No Ben here, sorry sis.” Pouting dramatically, Klaus relinquished his grip on Luther’s arm, swaying slightly as he got his footing.

“What? Why?” Allison retorted in confusion. They were back in their own timeline now, so Ben should be back at Klaus’ side. Right? Allison had felt guilty when Klaus had told them that Ben hadn’t made it to the ‘60s - she wondered what he had done while they were gone. Even guiltier though was how she felt about dismissing Klaus for years. How every time he’d tried to convince them of Ben’s existence, they’d completely written it off as some kind of drug-induced hallucination; she had never doubted that Klaus himself believed he was seeing the ghost of their dead brother, but she had never imagined that it had ever been real. All she had known was that his powers had never worked unless he was sober. She wondered if this was Klaus’ way of enacting revenge for all those years of doubting him - by keeping Ben from them now.

“Can’t,” Klaus said quietly, “I just-” 

“Are you high Klaus?” Diego suddenly demanded, barging into the conversation. Taken aback Allison turned to Diego in alarm, even for him this was blunt. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have allowed Klaus and Diego to walk alone together, after Diego having been so clearly upset with him less than an hour earlier.

“What? No, no. I’m just- I just-” Klaus spluttered.

“Leave him alone.” Vanya said, clear distress laced into each syllable. Meeting her sister’s eyes, Allison saw that Vanya herself was verging on tears and it didn’t seem to be from the wind that pummelled their faces with biting malevolence. 

Her plea came too late. As soon as Klaus had begun to stumble over his words in defense, Five had blinked. Yelping slightly as his prepubescent brother appeared in a spark of blue light in front of him, pulling his face down to his own eye level. Confused and awkward, the remaining siblings gathered closer together to see Five’s teenage hands holding Klaus’ face in one hand and staring intently into his eyes. Feeling Vanya trembling behind her, Allison took a small step towards her, hoping it would provide comfort for whatever had distressed her so much. 

Luther had taken on the role of smiling and waving at the pedestrians who scuttled past, casting perplexed grimaces at the gaggle of adults watching a young boy in school uniform holding an adult man’s face in one hand. One woman hurried past, sheltering her two children under her arms the way a mother goose may usher her goslings along from under her wings.

Rationally, Allison knew only a couple of seconds had passed but it felt as if the entire city of New York had been watching their dysfunctional family for hours. She almost visibly sagged when Five finally let go off Klaus and stalked off. 

“What the hell was that?” Klaus whined, rubbing his jaw where Five had been latched onto him.

“You could at least try to hide it better,” Five said, not meeting any of their eyes, “Your pupils are pinpricks.”

Radio static filled Allison’s ears. Could barely hear Klaus protesting that it was just really sunny today as the world blurred to a halt. She knew the rest of her siblings felt the same heavy weight that had just nestled onto her shoulders, crushing her into the ground. 

Last night now made so much more sense. The way he had disappeared without a trace and tried to sneak in without being noticed and the way he wasn’t quite present, his voice carrying an air of detachment. It should have made sense at the time, if her brain hadn’t been so clouded by blind and reckless relief at his return. All Vanya’s words from before had been lost on her as soon as he had returned - well, he’s here now so everything must be okay. Allison had believed so strongly in Klaus that she’d expected no further issue, as though through willpower alone she could keep him from descending back into that bottomless abyss. Had been foolish enough to think she had the power to expect that of him, without making any effort herself. She’d allowed Klaus to bear whatever weight he’d kept quietly strapped to his chest. Alone. 

Now she only wanted to do everything in her power to make it right.

Chapter Text

Klaus was all too familiar with this black and white forest. They had opened their leaden eyes all too many times on this muted dirt path, but only now did they know what it truly meant to be here. They were dead. 

All it took was one needle and three tiny pills. They realised immediately something wasn’t quite right, but couldn’t fathom the will to care too much. The last hour had been so condensed with a terror that wracked their mind and grief that pulverised their senses, Klaus couldn’t help but be grateful for anything that wasn’t that. Even if it was dying once again.

Before their most recent visit to the forest, Klaus had always taken this place to be some weird, recurring hallucination - all in black and white. Once, they had read that old people dreamed in black and white because of the TV they used to watch, so maybe Klaus just hallucinated in black and white sometimes. Like an old person. They had never thought to question it, stranger things had happened and they had grown quite fond of it, in all honesty. As far as hallucinations went, this one was remarkably pleasant. Except now they knew it had been real every time and it meant that they were dead. Dead. 

They supposed that maybe it should be worrying how acquainted they were with the place, but they’d never been there for long. Or at least, it didn’t feel like long. Between the laws of some strange otherworld and a mind that couldn’t be trusted on a good day, Klaus couldn’t really vouch for their personal interpretation of time. 

It wasn’t until that roaring good time when they’d been tricked into meeting their father in some weird barber shop in the middle of the woods, that Klaus had understood what this place was; if they were honest they might have preferred to have never found out. This forest had once been peaceful, but now that they knew they were dead somehow the trees seemed to loom more and the air was colder. More biting. 

Klaus was sure that Ben had yapped on about their habit of dying a couple of times. Probably, at least. That sounded like him. Was Ben here? Where was this light that Ben had mentioned after he’d died? They looked around for the little girl; Klaus hadn’t quite forgiven her for misleading them the last time, for making them think they were going to finally be reunited with Dave. Dave. Could Dave be here too? Damn, they really need to find the little girl to answer some of these burning questions, but she was nowhere in sight. Maybe he had to die sober to see her - to see anything. 

This time around, Klaus’ time in the forest was exactly the same as every other time. No barber shop disguised as a cabin in the woods, no father to once again give a performance of his most irredeemable qualities and no little girl on a bicycle who may or may not have been god herself. Just Klaus and this forest. This forest where all colour seemed to have been drained of life. There had to at least be a metaphor in that somewhere. 

Only this time, Klaus knew where they were and wanted to stay. Maybe, just maybe, if they stayed in this silent forest long enough, Klaus could finally see Dave again. See Ben again. They just needed some time to get their bearings and they could figure it out - they were The Seance for gods sake, they should be able to find two dead souls in their own home turf. 

If nothing else, all Klaus knew for sure was there was nothing left for them down there. 

One hour earlier

He had been dealing with the ghosts. Not well, by any means, but he was getting through it. For the most part he could ignore them when they were relatively quiet - when they weren’t gargling their pleas to him, the business they had left unfinished when they had been torn from life far too soon. Lucky for him, death was everywhere in such a big city where people came and went on the daily, but he could at least avoid places where they were angrier; where they were more likely to linger, more likely to scream their rattling screams out of breathless lungs. Begging for Klaus’ attention.

Klaus was never good at enclosed spaces. Even before being locked in with the dead, he had hated the way walls only seem to get smaller and smaller until breathing became almost impossible. So he avoided it all as much as possible - especially now; he had to be careful with his sobriety teetering at the edge of a steep precipice. Avoided elevators, changing rooms and public toilets like the plague and refused to get into a car unless Diego was driving. Diego, for all the times he’d been Klaus’ sole protector after they’d both left the academy, was somewhat aware of Klaus’ claustrophobia - or at least he would have to be incredibly stupid to not have put it together by now.

So when Vanya had hailed a taxi, Klaus had felt his blood run cold and a muted panic rise in his throat. He had forgotten Vanya didn’t have a car, had just assumed she would be driving, and couldn’t just change his mind about coming after literally having begged her. She wasn’t stupid, she would know something wasn’t right with him.

He sat pressed up against the car door, staring out at the streets as they blurred passed his eye-line. Not that he was really looking at anything at all. All of his attention was on not completely freaking out on Vanya - for what to her would seem like no reason. Every shallow breath shook in his chest as he concentrated on simply inhaling, exhaling, repeat. In, out, repeat. 

When Ben had been around, he used to lecture Klaus or deliberately bother him when he got like this - when he was on the verge of panic. Ben allowed Klaus the option to get irritated by him, to snap at him and lash out, instead of focussing on the irrational, crushing terror that stranded Klaus far far out from any chance of saving. He wasn’t sure that he had ever told Ben he knew what he was doing - and how grateful he had been for it. There were so many things he had never gotten to tell Ben, he’d assumed they would have forever. Assumed that even if Klaus died he’d just find Ben and they’d go into the light together. Ben had always been a lighthouse; a guiding force, a grainy but consistent stream of light in the dark. Now Ben was gone and Klaus had no way of reaching him anymore. The night was dark and Klaus was lost at sea. 

Breathe, Klaus, Ben whispered in his mind, You’re not there anymore.

A ghost (ha!) of Ben’s voice lingered somewhere in the corners of his mind. Ben had certainly left an impression on Klaus, for him to now hear him in his own mind. Or maybe he was just lonely and used to at least having the ghost of his brother to talk to. 

A loud car horn splintered his eardrums and made him realise that their cab had stopped. Stopped in the middle of a crowd. Blaring, unfiltered noise thundered throughout the busy street and within seconds Klaus was back on a battlefield damp with yesterdays rain and blood. Bullets were flying over his head but Klaus didn’t notice; they didn’t exist as his hands pressed onto Dave’s chest. It was too late. The only person Klaus had ever, and would ever, love was now lying there in the dirt. Inanimate. Like he had never kissed Klaus, like he had never taught him what love meant, like he had never even lived.

Clenching his eyes tight, willing the tears to remain behind his eyelids. Willing his body to stop trembling as the cab walls started to shrink in on themselves like a crushed and discarded tin can. Pressing further and further in on Klaus until his breath was forced to his throat and he was choking on his thoughts.

There was lull in the noise. Klaus wasn’t sure how long they had been waiting, but the noise had ceased. It had been long enough to temper the fury of the crowds of cars to a submissive, angry acceptance. The quiet was welcome for a moment, his mind stopped reeling and he felt his heart settle back into his chest. 

Breathing in the way Dave taught him, the way Ben taught him, Klaus felt the panic ease mildly. His breaths shuddered in his chest but at least he could breathe in such an enclosed space. Surely that was an improvement?

Then he heard her.

Ghosts never sounded like they were part of the physical world. They were detached, and their voices melted into the very fabrics of his mind. Even if Klaus’ eardrums were filled with an orchestra of yells and cymbals, the voices of the dead would rise above it all. Their whispers louder than the loudest screams on this plane of existence. More present and all the more terrifying.

“Why am I here?” she asked, in a soft haunting whisper, her words alone sucking breath from Klaus’ lungs, “Who are you, why did you bring me here?” 

Klaus had never understood how his powers actually worked, but from the terrible times he’d had it switched on, he realised that they were somehow drawn to him. He wasn’t sure what he hated more, the fact he was essentially a ghost magnet or that he had no idea how to stop that from happening - keep them away. All he knew for sure is that he had definitely not brought this ghost to him, and from the panic that began to collect like bile in his throat he very much wanted her to leave.

He kept quiet, hoping she’d get bored and leave. Like that ever happened. Something about death seemed to remove any sense of etiquette from a person, any idea about personal space or privacy. They were relentless in death, and some of the time he even felt bad. The types of ghosts that haunted him were the ones most in pain; they’d been killed wrongfully or much too soon. They were incensed with the match of injustice and for some reason they had collectively decided Klaus was the person who could fix that for them.

A soft weeping slowly penetrated that hazy line between the mortal world and wherever the ghosts were that remained to walk the earth. Even without seeing her, the gradually more hysterical sobs tore at his mind, grabbing fistfuls and plunging him into fire and enveloping him in that choking, suffocating feeling he had grown so used to since his return to the present - except now it was increased tenfold.

“Oh, god… Am I dead?” A new ghost then, he felt his heart tug his gaze towards her, only to see what Klaus could only describe as an incredibly battered and mangled corpse of a woman. Stupid sympathy, it never worked in his favour. “It all happened so fast, the car- it just- it was so fast,” The lady stared into Klaus’ face in between gulping, aching, tearless sobs and Klaus was suddenly horribly aware of how close their cab was to death. This women - this crying, broken women - had just died, probably not even a mile from where he was now. His stomach turned over, threatening to spill out from his mouth.

Somewhere, distantly, he heard voices. Except they weren’t within his own mind, they were very much real. Vanya. She was talking to their driver, asking about why they had stopped - why they were trapped in a blockade of cars scattered like some child's forgotten playthings. Detecting panic in her voice, Klaus felt he should try and help her - this was just about the only thing his power was useful for right? 

“Accident.” He said. It had been meant to come out stronger, mimicking the usual witty Klaus she knew, but instead it was barely audible. His voice disappeared behind the curtain of his own irrational fear. Maybe their dad had been right, he shouldn’t be this afraid of ghosts - they were just people. People who were dead. If he could just talk to them, reason with them- 

“Ben? Ben?”

Klaus’ heart stopped, and his mind went blank. It was still her voice, screaming his lost brother’s name mirroring that same agony he felt rattling within his empty chest each and every single day. She didn’t mean his brother, her cries weren’t directed at him - Klaus knew that. That didn’t make it any less grating, though. 

Having given up on Klaus’ help, she should have left - gone somewhere else - yet her voice was still pounding at every corner of his brain like a migraine. Over and over, that name: Ben, Ben Ben…
 
Instinctively, his hands found their way to his hair which was now longer and provided ample purchase to snake his fingers into and pull. Hard. Covering his ears with his palms, he clamped down upon his ears in an iron vice, as though he could squeeze that name from his mind. Press her spluttering sobs out. 

He had to get her out. Get something out. He couldn’t breathe.

The sounds of the ghosts were inside of him, entrenched in his deepest membranes. Nothing he could do within the physical world would stop them. Everything he had ever tried had been in vain. Except…

Distantly, they remembered making some stupid excuse to Vanya, as unadulterated panic pushed them from the cab and through the crowds of wailing car horns. Their legs seemed to know where they were going, and it wasn’t until they were scrounging every back alley that their mind caught up with them.  

Were they really going to do this? Over three years without any hard drugs, and they were giving it up for what? One ghost calling out a name that was painfully familiar to them?

Klaus was barely conscious of that rational voice that wafted across their mind for just a moment, they were pretty sure that was just Ben’s lasting impression anyway. It sounded like a perfectly aggravating Ben thing to say at this moment. Ben wasn’t here though, that was the whole point, and it was tearing their heart and lungs to pieces. This was a one-off, Klaus told themself, after this they were going to avoid cabs and stay clean forever. 

They had to pass more ghosts as they searched. Overdose victims littered the streets, as common as trash and with the same pungent sorrow soaked into all of their souls. Klaus couldn’t look, had always refused to look for the knowledge that this had almost been their fate far too many times. They were the quietest ghosts, so empty and devoid of colour they almost melted into the brick walls and cobbled floors; Klaus darted past without consequence.

Nerves frayed to a delicate breaking point and sodden in their own sweat, Klaus finally found a dealer. The way he smirked with no true cheer behind his dark eyes almost put them off completely, but the man offered half price and at this point Klaus would probably have sold their first-born for anything to relinquish themself of the pain that had shrouded their every movement for the last month and a half. With Ben’s second death wailing and groaning in their bones.  

It almost surprised Klaus how the act of untying their shoelace to tie neatly at the crook of their elbow, and melting the powder down into liquid on the spoon they had borrowed from a barely conscious woman who lay slumped against the derelict wall opposite him. Muscle memory seemed to have written that procedure into their hard-drive for good, despite them having sworn off needles some time in 2013. The motions came as naturally as riding a bike, or at least that would be a good comparison if their father had ever taught them or their siblings to ever ride a bike; somehow, in the fucked up joke that was their life, injecting drugs into their bloodstream came more naturally than riding a bike.

Klaus didn’t have time to feel bad for breaking their no-needle promise to Ben, or even feel bad for letting their entire family down once again, after clumsily finding the vein. It hit them so quickly, they couldn’t find time to breathe - let alone think or feel. 

All at once everything melted into one expansive, white space in their mind. No longer could they remember any of their siblings, Ben or otherwise, and no longer could they feel anything except that tidal-wave of mind-numbing euphoria that swept them along in crashing wave like lost debris. 

They rode that wave, or rather were carried by that wave for long enough for everything to feel worth it. Klaus couldn’t even begin to think why they had ever stopped in the first place, this was clearly where they belonged. Against this brick wall in this sweet spot that nothing except drugs could grant them. There were no haunted murmurs or intrusive thoughts about Ben, about Dave, about every single person they had cared about and let down. It was just perfect.

It wasn’t long before the initial rush depleted and Klaus realised there was something terribly wrong, and they knew that they had been right not to trust that dealer with the cruel grin. Afterthought couldn’t help them now. It was far too late for that.  

And so Klaus once again found himself on the loose soil and leaf litter in that strange black and white afterlife. He wandered between trees for what could have been minutes or years, appreciating the way his mind was fully his own. There were no ghosts tearing at his attention with talons like broken glass and no drugs rendering him, by the Hargreeves family standards, essentially useless. In this forest he was in control of himself, and he hated that it took him dying for that to be the case.

He needed to find Dave. Find Ben. They had to be somewhere around here - or through some trippy magic door or portal to wherever the rest of the dead people were that had gone into the light. The thought alone of seeing the two people who had truly been there for them when he had been at his worst and his most volatile made Klaus’ heart skip in his chest, racing ahead of himself - desperate to be reunited. Strange that he could still feel each of his heartbeats if he concentrated hard enough: a rhythmic beating against his chest.

Klaus was deep into the forest when those regular beats suddenly felt louder, harder, stronger. Soon, his ears were ringing with his own heartbeat and he felt a tugging at both his body and his mind as nausea swept over him. He was being taken back, back to that damp alley with the ghosts and the grief and the horrific ordeal of survival. Dragged from what he had come to realise was the only place he felt at peace back to his corpse of a body in that dingy alley in New York City. 

“No! Please…” he wailed to nobody in particular (the little girl, maybe?), his eyes stinging with tears that he found could not fall.

Clenching his eyes in anticipation and pleading with any force that might be listening, Klaus was revived.

Gasping for air with tears now freely flowing, Klaus’ eyes fell on the man who had just apparently saved his life. He was silvery-haired and seemed perpetually tired, dark circles nesting beneath his eyes like Klaus’ beloved eyeliner. The drug was apparently back in his system, but even with the coddling dopiness of whatever he’d mistakenly put into his bloodstream he couldn’t help but be angry with the man who had brought him back from the dead. Angry at him for doing his job, for saving lives. The irrationality of it all made Klaus titter dazedly, and reached out to give the man a pat on the arm.

“Hey, wait... I know you!” Klaus said enthusiastically as he connected the mans face to a foggy memory of a situation glaringly similar to what he was currently experiencing. This guy had apparently saved his life twice now. Small world. “Something with a- an M right?” Klaus could barely remember what he was guessing at this point, he was too focussed on being taken from the safe haven of the black and white forest against his will.

“Phil. Good to see you again too, Klaus,” the man deadpanned.

“See? That’s- there’s an M in there somewhere-” Klaus laughed joylessly, not detecting the lack of humour in Phil’s voice, “Okay, so- thanks for dragging me out the forest or whatever but I need to go.”

All of Klaus’ muscles seemed to have disappeared, or turned to liquid at the very least, because he remained lying prone on the dirty cobble with Phil sitting a couple of feet away, seemingly quite amused by the inaction on Klaus’ claim. Mean.

Part of Klaus registered that the woman he had gotten the spoon from had disappeared completely - had she called the ambulance? He wished he could see her again. At least to return her spoon.

Maybe Phil could sense that Klaus wasn’t best pleased with him - or maybe he was just bored - because he shoved Klaus gently against the wall where the used syringe was now lying, abandoned. He grimaced, and reached to pick it up. Klaus watched him as he picked it up with an expression of some faraway pain, that quickly dissolved as he pocketed it and turned his attention back to Klaus.

“I’ll hold onto that, okay buddy?” Klaus didn’t protest, he didn’t need it anymore anyway. He thought of the pills that were stashed in his coat right now, wondered if Phil would search him. “How about I wait this one out with you?”

After Phil had draped a blanket and a winter coat over him, Klaus then spent the next hours dipping in and out of consciousness as Phil talked to him through the afternoon and well into the night. He told Klaus about his daughters: one had just graduated from university and the other worked as a kindergarten teacher in Illinois; told Klaus about his wife and how she had probably left dinner on the stove for him anyway, so Klaus shouldn’t worry about holding him up. In all honesty, Klaus wasn’t particularly thinking about Phil’s dinner, but he supposed he liked the sentiment.

“Why are you doing this?” Klaus asked as the sun finally sunk fully, and New York was plunged into night. The lights of the city didn’t reach them here, and Klaus and Phil were illuminated only by a flickering lamppost at the end of the alley and the moon’s gentle, lapping waves. 

“You remind me of my son - my eldest...” Phil heaved a guttural sigh, staring up at the sky through wide eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if I had done more, sat with him through the night in this way, you know? If I had just taken the time… Maybe he would still be here.”

Oh. 

Even in Klaus’ scrambled mind, that was poignant enough to have it make sense not only in his head but in his chest. Guilt rose in his throat, guilt that Phil’s son was dead while he was somehow still kicking, countlessly being saved by people like Phil. Klaus wanted to tell him that. Wanted to tell him that his son would be proud of what he was doing, that Phil was a good, kind and selfless person.

“I lost someone too.” was all that came out of Klaus’ mouth instead. He wasn’t sure if the drugs had made him loopy enough to open up to this literal stranger, or that he felt he owed it to Phil after he had just been so painstakingly honest with him. Shivering in spite of the layers Phil had piled on top of him, Klaus met Phil’s eyes for the first time that evening. They weren’t expectant, but open and listening and kind. It reminded him of Dave.

“I’m sorry.” Phil said plainly, but Klaus could tell it meant more than what it appeared to on the surface.

That was it. They sat in silence for a little while longer, until the stars were so bright over the brow of the buildings that blocked most of New York from sight. Until Phil admitted he should be getting home to his wife. Klaus didn’t mind. Whatever had been in his system had faded now, and he had regained some control over his muscles and his mind. Unfortunately, that also meant the whispers were creeping back into small pockets of his mind. He wished he could have done something to prevent that from happening, but Phil had been there and that seemed out of the question. Even so, Klaus considered the time he spent with Phil worth it. For the most part.

 Popping three pills into their mouth not even two hours later, Klaus felt genuinely terrible in the moments prior. Had everything they had discussed with Phil amounted to nothing? It felt as though they were betraying the trust of that broken, selfless paramedic and kicking him while he was down. 

Something about Phil’s story scared them, made them think about their own family and how they would react if they had actually died for good tonight. They barely acknowledged them now, but apparently Phil had done the same while his son had still been alive. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance their family could care about them in ways that weren’t immediately obvious, that they could genuinely be hurt if they died. Never did they want to do that to them, they had all quietly shattered when Ben had died and when Five had disappeared; they wondered whether their death could ruin the family they had so carefully cultivated in saving the fate of the planet twice over.

Klaus could imagine Luther and Diego at each others throats, passing blame. They imagined Vanya - who had been the last to see them - probably silently committing to the idea that it was her fault and Allison and Five trying and failing to keep everyone together. In some selfish way it was nice to imagine their family break apart due to their own passing, but that didn’t mean Klaus wanted to subject them to that if avoidable. They loved their siblings, even if sometimes it didn’t feel as though it was reciprocated.

And so, Klaus found themself heading back toward the mansion early that next morning, emptying two pills into their palm as they walked. It was a long day alone as Klaus roamed the streets searching for the dealer they trusted most - they had already somehow expended everything they had bought the day before. He had clearly been pleased to see Klaus turn the corner, as he greeted them with an open hug.

“Been a while, bud. Thought you’d replaced me.”

“This is the last time.” Klaus had said.

“Heard that one before.” The dealer had winked as he pocketed Klaus’ money and watched Klaus leave the way they had come.

Now Klaus was braving the mansion, which is something they had never believed they would go through willingly. The mansion had come to be some kind of last resort; when the cravings were too strong and their funds had dwindled into pennies and lint. Klaus would always find something to pawn at the mansion, but the procedure was both terrifying and exhausting in equal parts. Being here willingly - with the intention to stay - was in Klaus’ mind somewhat ludicrous. If they were to tell their past self what they were currently doing, Klaus was sure they would have laughed in their face.

Punching through a window in the front door, Klaus wiggled their hand through the sharp glass and found the doorknob and the key that for some reason their family liked to leave in the lock. If they didn’t all have a reputation of literally killing criminals, Klaus was positive that their house would be a virtual hot-spot for robberies. 

In an attempt to dodge the glass littering the floor, Klaus noticed that something else lay amidst the rubble. A letter. Who was still sending letters in 2019, and to their family of all people - did they even know anybody else? Curiosity made them pick it up and dust it off from the window debris. It was addressed to all of them apparently, with only “Hargreeves” written in a neat print along with their address. 

That wasn’t the detail that confused them the most though, but rather the same neat print in the top left corner: Grainne Walsh. From Ireland. Klaus blinked at the small rectangular envelope for a few moments, wondering if maybe this was one big hallucination. Or a joke. Who the fuck was this person? Surely the name should at least ring a bell?

Warm fatigue pressed at their eyes and softened the edges of their mind, in a combination of lack of sleep and the dozy haze that converted their thoughts to white noise. They would look at this tomorrow. Probably. Or just give it to Five, he would know what to do with it. They shoved the paper into one of their coats plentiful pockets.

Klaus had almost made it to their room when they were unpleasantly surprised by a very much awake Allison. With a knife. They would have to talk to Diego about giving all of his siblings bedtime knives, or this would keep happening. 

“Klaus?” she whispered into the dark, not releasing them from her grip.

“Allison!” they countered trying to match their usual energy, “Hi! Fancy seeing you here…”

They only had time to turn on the fairy lights before they crashed, fully clothed onto their bedsheets.

“What the fuck, Klaus?” Diego demanded. 

Klaus didn’t respond, still stunned after having his face manhandled by his prepubescent grandfather-brother in broad daylight. He looked around at his siblings, none of whom were meeting his eyes or even looking at him at all. Was it really that big of a surprise to them?

“Secrets out, I guess. Whoops.” 

Christ, Klaus. Really? Whoops? 

Ben’s voice somehow found its way back into his mind. His subconscious seemed to be so very terribly aware that making light of the situation was inevitably going to make everything so much worse and was now yelling at him in the voice of his twice-dead brother. It was not an experience Klaus particularly enjoyed. Absently he swatted at his own mind, as though swiping at a particularly annoying fly - which was, in fairness, quite similar to how Klaus had always viewed Ben’s stream of criticisms.

Aware that maybe waving his hand at his own head wasn’t the best impression, Klaus grinned sheepishly at his siblings who were as motionless as Five’s mannequin lover and looked just as broken. Something fractured within Klaus. He didn’t want to disappoint them like this; he knew he would take any opportunity to change how he was if he could. It was just hard. Too hard to live with the ghosts and the memories of everything he had lost. Too hard to carry everything his father had forced him into like shackles attached to heavy cinder blocks that dragged, squealing, behind him. 

A vice-like hand was suddenly on his bicep and dragging him through the street, back in the direction of the mansion. Diego. Too startled to protest, Klaus just felt his feet obey the direction Diego was taking him, casting a quick, pleading look back at the remainder of his siblings who looked equal parts confused and dejected. 

“Diego?” Klaus squeaked at his brother who was looking firmly ahead, refusing to look at him.

“We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

“Sit.” Diego demanded, shoving his brother onto the ratty couch with his countless knife holes from what was years of his siege on the fabric. It was much easier to get his brother to topple over than Diego has expected, and he maybe used a bit more force than was necessary. “Sorry, I-” Diego said uncomfortably, hearing Klaus plummet from standing unsteadily to landing heavily on his ass.

“Sorry?”

“For pushing you-” Diego caught one look at his brother who seemed entirely docile and unaware that he had even been shoved at all, “Never mind, then.” God, Diego was already so embarrassed by this entire interaction. When Klaus was like this it was sometimes better to not pay much attention to general etiquette, since Klaus was never usually receptive to it anyway - or just didn’t give a shit. It was small things like that, that Diego had forgotten since Klaus had gotten clean, as though he had never been addicted to anything in the first place; those horrible memories had faded into time and Diego had looked back on it without recognition. Except, somehow in some twisted trick of the universe, they were back here once again.

At least this time they were within their home rather than some dirty street corner or in Diego’s makeshift accommodation after Klaus had crashed on his doorstep for the fiftieth time. This time Diego also knew Klaus was capable of better, had conclusive proof of it in the last 2 months. Klaus could be better - he could bounce back from this relapse. It ended here. Diego was not going to be allowing Klaus to slip back into old habits ever again. Not on his watch. 

“What happened, man?”

Hating that sickly sweet nonchalance in his voice, Diego sat besides Klaus try to coax some kind of response from his brother. If not only to help his brother open up and feel that Diego was there for him, Diego himself just desperately wanted to know: why? Why? He had thought it was all over. Forever. Maybe that had been stupid of him, in hindsight. He’d been to NA once and he remembered them talking about how addiction is a process and relapse is almost expected, yet still he had some strange expectation that Klaus wasn’t like the rest of them: Klaus was his brother, Klaus was part of the Umbrella Academy - once he beat it, it was gone for good.

Klaus snorted, as though Diego had asked something entirely ludicrous. “I did drugs again, bro.” His brother said, not meeting his eyes and looking down at his palms as though he had only just noticed the tattoos that lay there. Something about Klaus right now reminded him of Eudora’s nieces - from when she used to force him to come over as she babysat them - in the way they would get really quiet when being caught doing something they shouldn’t. It didn’t suit his brother. This quiet, humourlessly giggly version of Klaus was not one Diego had ever experienced, and Diego had dealt with so much Klaus-shit throughout his life.

“Hoping for a little more than that, if I’m honest.” Diego wanted to leave. Wanted to just get him a glass of water, let him crash on the couch and get out - the way he used to in every situation even remotely akin to this. It was so much easier to just deal with that physical care checklist (water, food, place to sleep for the night) and then leave Klaus to his own devices. The emotional side of it was exhausting and horribly draining, and Diego couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t want to deal with it. Whether that meant looking the other way when he was pretty sure Klaus was shooting up in his bathroom, or when he put a pillow over his head when he heard Klaus cry out in his sleep - instead of going and checking on him. Diego didn’t used to think about it much, he was already doing more for Klaus than literally any of the rest of his siblings, and he had prided himself in that. Besides, he was never much in tune with those kind of things anyway; he was cold and awkward and insanely bad at talking if his former stutter was anything to go by. He would probably only make it worse.

“I can tell you about the time I spent over a week awake, if you like? It was in Rio and I-”

“Klaus, no! Jesus!” Diego was not in the mood for hearing one of Klaus’ stories, they were usually deeply distressing and, more often than not, kind of pervy. “Look, I just want to help, dude. You were doing so well… Luther even had the stupid idea to throw you a party for it-”

“Yeah I knew about that,” Klaus said snickering, “There are so many neat dark corners in this house for eavesdropping on family gatherings you weren’t invited to. Going to be honest, did not rub me the right way… that idea.” Reaching out for Diego’s arm and rubbing it for a couple of moments, and laughing as though he was a comedic genius, completely unaware of the slightly alarmed expression that flashed across Diego’s face.

Ignoring Klaus’ strange affront on his arm, Diego pushed on. “I did think that too, but you know Luther…” Diego trailed off as he caught sight of Klaus’ gaze staring across the room towards the bar, looking seemingly at nothing. 

“Ben here?”

“Ben?” Klaus said, his attention snapping back towards his brother. “I guess, something like that.” 

“Wow, that’s not vague at all.”

“You know me… Vaguey McVagueface.” Klaus said distantly, staring back off into the distance. Diego wasn’t sure if that was Klaus’ attempt to throw him off-topic or if his brother was trying to be his regular funny self with such a haunting, hollow joke that made Diego’s stomach churn uncomfortably. Even high out of his mind, Klaus had never been this placated by whatever cloud was currently trailing him. It hurt Diego to see, and he was suddenly reminded of how much he had berated Klaus earlier; how Klaus had just sat there and taken it all without a word. Sure, he was definitely high then too, but Diego now realised how cruel that may have been. 

“Hey,” Diego said, his stutter lurking dangerously in his throat and tears brimming mockingly behind his eyes. He had to get out of here, if even for a moment. “I’m going to get you something to eat, you still like waffles right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Klaus winked but it was sluggish and entirely missed the playful target Diego was certain he was aiming for. Instead, it came off as sinisterly vacant. 

How hadn’t Diego noticed his brother fade completely away?

“Pogo!” Diego said, as he saw their butler coming down one of the flights of stairs. It shamed Diego how surprised he always was to see Pogo again. He couldn’t help remembering how Allison and Luther had broken the news to him: of how their little sister had killed the man (or monkey, rather) who had always been more of a paternal figure to them than their actual father had been.

“Master Diego, I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon. What do you need?”

“Have you seen Mom anywhere? I was hoping she would make waffles?”

Pogo smiled at him with those kind welcoming eyes, rimmed with spectacles. “Your mother is already in the kitchen, making you children lunch - we weren’t expecting you back from your outing for another half an hour at least.”

“Yeah, well,” Diego said, shifting on his feet, unsure of how much to reveal to Pogo. On one hand, to divert responsibility to Pogo and Mom - to have them handle Klaus - would be easier, yet Diego didn’t want to place that burden on them. For Diego to finally pull his siblings together, to found Team Zero, he had to do this himself and not rely on either parental figure to take control of the situation. “The rest of them are still out - it’s just me and Klaus here.”

Diego began walking towards the kitchen, when Pogo called after him. “Are you and your brother alright, Master Diego?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re fine. Thanks Pogo.”

Giving the butler his best performance smile, Diego stalked the other way in pursuit of Mom’s incredible waffles.

“Diego, dear!” Mom smiled at him in greeting, but seemed surprised to see him - no doubt because she had meticulously calculated the time she had expected them to return to the mansion for the late lunch she was making. “I’m afraid I haven’t finished lunch yet, wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon.”

“I was actually here to ask for waffles on Klaus’ behalf, but if you’re too busy I’ll tell him he should just wait for lunch…” 

“I can make both, sweetie,” Mom said as lightly as the waffles she cooked, placing her hand on his shoulder lovingly. “I could always use some help with lunch, if you have the time.”

Diego wanted nothing more than to help Mom assemble lunches for his siblings, but unfortunately he had to get back to Klaus as soon as possible; there was no telling what he could do high and unoccupied. “Sorry, Mom… I have to go check on something, real quick. I’ll be back soon to help - I promise.”

Mom smiled at him gently and hummed softly, before turning back to whatever she was making. And so Diego left.

Klaus was, of course, gone. 

Tearing up the stairs, towards his brother’s room, Diego couldn’t help but think of all the places Klaus could have gone in 5 minutes. It was long enough to reach any corner of this mansion - and definitely further. He could have failed. Again.

Relief struck him like lightning as he swung Klaus’ door open to see him leant up against his bed, cross-legged on the floor. Light-headed with the sudden panic followed by a quick reassurance, Diego physically sagged into his brother’s door frame, reminding him sharply of the many times their roles would be reversed - with Klaus slumped against Diego’s doorway, begging for a place to spend the night.

Diego was not leaving Klaus alone again.

“Get up.” Diego said, heaving Klaus upright, “You’re going to help Mom and me make waffles.”

“But- but Diego!” Klaus protested, with the air of a toddler.

“You want waffles, you’ve got to work for it.”

In the kitchen, Diego could clearly see Mom giving Klaus a side-eye but apparently decided on not mentioning the elephant in the room, which he appreciated for the most part. He tasked his brother with ‘reading the instructions’, even though he was certain Mom had memorised the recipe; still, he needed a reason to validate Klaus’ being there - so he could keep an eye on him while also spending time with his mom. Diego felt a little guilty for demoting Klaus to the waffle equivalent of the lookout, he was pretty sure Klaus hated that position, and yet he couldn’t be sure that his brother held the capacity to mind at this point. Regrettably, Diego suspected Klaus had probably taken something else in the time he had been left alone, but didn’t want to jump to conclusions - that was the one thing he wanted to improve upon.

To his dismay, Klaus had fallen asleep at the table, which only seemed to confirm his suspicions. Klaus looked different in his sleep, he always had. Even in nightmare, he was softer, more vulnerable - as though he was constantly wearing some kind of armour in the waking world. Seeing his brother sleeping, head on folded arms at the kitchen table, brought Diego back to a time where he would often wake up to that same sleeping expression in his bed. He missed that closeness.

“Why don’t you go take him to bed?” Mom had clearly noticed Diego staring with a wistful kind of poignancy, and had come up behind him and lightly lain her hand on his shoulder. “I can handle the rest from here, sweetie. I’m sure your brothers and sisters will be back soon anyway.”

With an abrupt nod, Diego went to shake Klaus awake, although he almost didn’t want to - he was so quiet and untroubled like this.

Klaus didn’t shift from his position as he woke, only turned his head toward Diego. Staring with those sluggish eyes. Those constricted pupils only served as a dull-bladed reminder that they weren’t 7. That this wasn’t one of those peaceful mornings where two brothers lay nestled together, in a rare moment of quiet before the wrath of their father’s heavy, cruel words and uncompromising demeanour.

“Hey, man. How about you sleep in an actual bed instead of on a table, huh?”

Klaus glared daggers, but allowed Diego to guide him out of the chair and up the stairs towards their bedrooms.

Diego wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, really. Maybe it was the way he was certain Klaus would have some kind of chemical relief tucked neatly away in his bedroom, or maybe it was because of that unfounded sentiment he had felt only moments before, but Diego did not lead Klaus to his room. Instead, both brothers ended up stood in the doorway of Diego’s own room.

His brother certainly didn’t notice at first, that they had were not at his bedroom at all, but as he studied the surroundings he raised his eyebrows in wonderment.

“Is this…? Your room?” Klaus asked pensively, as though not fully trusting that his own perceptions were reliable.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

There was a pause where Diego suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. Was this weird? Why had he brought Klaus here?

“Huh. Hasn’t changed much.” was all Klaus said, looking around the room for a moment before dropping onto Diego’s bed. He was right. Diego had been the first to leave the academy and he was pretty sure he hadn’t changed it at all since then.

“I like it like this.” Diego said, almost defensively.

“Sure you do. You need something on your walls, at least?” It didn’t seem like Klaus was accepting that he didn’t want his room to be like Klaus’. Klaus’ room was eclectic, chaotic and carried an air of destruction - even after he had cleared all the drug paraphernalia out on their first week back. Diego’s was, well, simple. It held the necessities, a couple of personal belongings and that was it. That was all he needed from a bedroom. “Hey, maybe you should get a plant! Or some lights…?”

“You’re going to sleep whatever shit you just put in yourself off, and then we’re going to have a proper talk tomorrow when you’re not about to pass out every other second.” Diego said, ignoring Klaus’ home decor tips.

“What? I’m not even tired, I’m- I’m awake. So awake.” 

“Fine, but you’re staying here.”

“You can’t make me.” Klaus stuck out his bottom lip. In all honesty, he couldn’t be sure if his brother did that deliberately or if he really was just a child. Either way, Klaus could not be allowed to leave this room until Diego he was sure he wouldn’t try anything. 

“Maybe not,” Diego said, sneaking to his drawers and sliding one open behind his back, fumbling around for that familiar shape, “But I can try.”

In one swift motion, Diego handcuffed Klaus to his bed-frame. A startled yelp was all that came out of his brother’s mouth after realising what Diego had done, looking at him with utter betrayal in his eyes. 

“Diego? What the fuck? Why? You can’t keep me here against my will… you can’t. It’s like a constitutional law or something.” 

“I’m sorry, man. I really am, but I’m just trying to help.”

And he meant every word of it. Diego didn’t want to be his keeper - restrict Klaus’ freedoms in any way - but he rationalised this was for the best. For now at least.

The rest of the family arrived only an hour later, with six brand new mobiles. Mom had just finished lunch, and so Diego was helping her set the table they had reinstated in the living room. Upon seeing him, all four of his siblings made a beeline toward Diego, who awkwardly laid the cutlery he had been holding down on the table. 

Allison thrust a phone into his hands and stared at him pointedly.

“Nice, thanks.” Diego said laying it beside the cutlery.

“So?” Allison asked, cuttingly.

“So?”

“Klaus.”

“Oh,” It wasn’t that Diego had forgotten about Klaus, the opposite in fact, just that he wasn’t sure he had ever been asked about him before, “In bed.”

It wasn’t a lie exactly. Klaus was on Diego’s bed, just maybe not in the way any of his siblings were imagining. He couldn’t tell them, though. They wouldn’t understand. Not one of them had ever had to deal with the nastier parts of their brother’s addiction up close and personal. None of them had ever witnessed that side of it, seen the lengths Klaus would go through to get his next fix. Sure, they knew about (some) of the overdoses, but Diego imagined it was hard to understand what that really meant when it was just one phone call. One phone call and it had all worked out okay, so they never had any real reason for concern. No, his siblings would never know what Diego wished he didn’t. They would free Klaus and live to regret it.

 “What did you-” Vanya started after a couple of moments, trailing off in the way she used to do. Diego had noticed that Vanya would often revert back to her timid, unassuming self when nervous or under pressure. 

“Nothing yet… I couldn’t really. Later. Let me handle it.”

“Okay.” Luther said, doing his best to shoot Diego a farce of a smile. Luther’s support was something he had not expected, but it surprisingly made him feel incredibly warm inside - as though their lifelong feud had suddenly evaporated before his eyes. 

“Thanks. Thank you.” Diego said sincerely enough, even though he partly just wanted to make sure nobody tried snooping around Klaus’ room to find nobody there and finding out he was, at present, handcuffed to Diego’s bed.

The siblings fell into a quiet. Not the uncomfortable kind, just a subdued lull tinged with newfound familiarity and a shared sadness. All of a sudden the speakers crackled into life, jolting them all from their doleful quietude. Pogo’s voice clearly spoke over the static electricity (this likely was the first time they had been used since their father had died), announcing lunch was ready and that they should be seated.

Lunch was awfully reminiscent of their childhood. A chilling silence and an unease that settled into their every mouthful. Except this time it was not for the presence of a relentlessly loveless father, but rather the absence of their brother.

It wasn’t like this was new. They were all painfully aware of Klaus’ habits - Diego more than the others - and had to live alongside that elephant that imposed itself into any room he was in. Yet now there was a newfound familial tether that stretched their heartstrings, looping and linking with one another. Connecting them. It wasn’t new, no, but somehow this time it hurt more. Was harder to ignore.

The waffles were, regrettably, delicious. Mom always had a way of making something so sweet, so comforting, even in the bleakest moments. Diego felt a little guilty for enjoying them without Klaus, before realising that was stupid. They would save some, he was sure.

Vanya was first to excuse herself. As soon as she was finished with lunch, she eyed the waffles the others were eating, piled two onto a plate and left with only a nod and a small smile.

It didn’t occur to Diego to find that odd, until Vanya returned only moments later seeming intensely distressed.

“I went to go take Klaus some in his room and- he’s not there. He’s gone.”

Diego stifled a groan. His siblings were looking at him, he could feel their gazes as he stared down at the table thanking every deity that it was Vanya that had decided to go and not one of the others. If Allison, Five or even Luther had been first to check Diego’s story, he was sure that they wouldn’t have stopped at not finding Klaus in his room; they would have intruded into every room and soon enough found their brother handcuffed to Diego’s bed - and Diego wanted nothing more than to avoid that conversation.

“Yeah, well…” Diego began, hand immediately going to where his knives usually were in some kind of subconscious defense mechanism, “That’s because he’s not exactly there. I made him sleep in my room - his room has got to be a virtual narcotic treasure trove, so I thought…” He didn’t mention the handcuffs. Obviously relieved, his siblings seemed to be nodding in agreement.

“Do we check?” asked Luther uncertainly. Say what you wanted about his giant brother, Diego had to admit he really was trying to be better. Maybe even trying harder than the rest of them.

“Yeah, I guess,” Diego mumbled, catching Allison’s eye. She was looking at him weird, but not in her trademark snarky teasing manner. This was softer. It made him uncomfortable. “Anyway, I guess I’ll go bring him these then - thanks Vanya.”

Vanya blinked, as though she had not been aware she was still holding the plate like a bomb primed for detonation. Softly, Diego took it from her grasp and ascended the great flights of stairs towards his bedroom.

Klaus had, as Diego expected, fallen asleep. 

Except it wasn’t the kind of sleep he had expected to see - the kind he had seen only hours before at the kitchen table. It wasn’t peaceful in the slightest; if anything, his brother looked even more haunted now than he had ever done whilst awake. He was quiet, breathing very slowly, dark eyeliner smudged and spilling over his cheeks outlining obvious tear tracks. His handcuffed arm was lifted at what must have been a painful angle and upon further inspection he saw the wrist lined with red welts in the shape of scratch marks - a desperate attempt at escape.

“Fuck.” Diego muttered softly, placing the plate down on the dresser and unshackling his brother gently. 

He did this to him. This was all Diego’s doing. For him to have gotten so distressed while seeming so apathetic to every other piece of sensory input clearly meant something - meant this was even greater than it initially seemed. Carefully, Diego pulled the blanket over him, after removing his coat and shoes for fear of him overheating. 

Watching him for a moment, Diego felt nothing but writhing, poisonous guilt in his gut - spilling venomous bile into his mouth. Yet again, Diego had acted brashly and inconsiderately and hurt the people he loved. Time and time again it was proved his judgement couldn’t be trusted. Eudora had taken his advice that turned out to be the harbinger of her death - something that still leeched something unnameable and irreplaceable from his soul. Lila and her betrayal and his misplaced trust; his misjudgment on their father’s role in the presidential assassination. Everything his gut told him turned out to be so fundamentally wrong, so irredeemably disastrous. He really should have learned by now.

Klaus’ breathing had steadied, and if Diego concentrated on ignoring the obvious suffering on his face and wrist he could even call him peaceful once more. If anything, this version of Klaus was exactly as Diego remembered him when they were four, five, six, seven. Those early years where a more vulnerable, a more fragile Klaus would snuggle up against Diego in the early hours of the morning until he could sleep without torment, or at least with some semblance of comfort.

What it was exactly, that made him crawl in beside Klaus and hold him in a way he hadn’t in over twenty years, Diego couldn’t place. It could’ve been the overwhelming guilt, an uncharacteristic level of nostalgia or simply a better way of ensuring Klaus did not try to escape. Possibly all three.

Diego felt his brother’s muscles loosen under his own limbs, which was reassuring enough for him. There was barely any room for the both of them; with Klaus’ long limbs and his own muscular bulkiness the pair were much more cramped than Diego remembered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

For the first time in twenty years, he remembered how much he loved Klaus. Not only Klaus - his whole family. He did truly care about them, and through years of grief and loss and separation and saving the world twice over they hadn’t been afforded many quiet moments such as these. Even in the almost two months they had since returning from their second round of apocalypse prevention, they had all been so self-absorbed. Not in the selfish way they had been before, but rather they were all so wrapped up in their own heads (god knows they deserved at least a little time to process the fucking shit-storm that was their lives) that they had only really interacted with each other out of a newfound co-dependence. It was nice, the best their relationships had probably ever been, but this sense of peace was something he missed from childhood. If only for a few moments, they had been frequent with Klaus despite often being punished for sentiment afterward. Diego had never, not once, regretted a moment of them.

So here he was, at the bottom of a well of nostalgia and under bedsheets - his brother by his side. For now, he could forget everything that was clearly plaguing Klaus and just allow himself to enjoy this. This special calm in the midst of a turbulent, terrifying hurricane.

At one point or another, Diego fell asleep himself. He awoke to a sky turned dark, with the bedroom light still incandescent with gritty, white light. Almost surprised to find his brother sleeping on, Diego left him and snuck out from the under the covers. 

The room was silent save for Klaus’ breathing and the waffles had long-since grown cold. 

Checking his alarm clock to discover it wasn’t even 9pm, Diego afforded himself the luxury of checking his sibling’s rooms. All of which were empty. Descending back into the kitchen, Diego could hear a faint rumble of laughter and of conversation as he approached. Upon entering he noticed they were all gathered around a Monopoly board, Allison with a hand in her mouth to stifle her snickering. 

“Oh! You’re awake.” Allison announced, smirking. She knew he’d been sleeping - had probably seen him and Klaus. He felt a strange sense of shame rise in him; he was so good at pretending he didn’t care and this certainly wouldn’t help that.

“You guys are playing Monopoly?” Diego asked, trying to deflect but also genuinely incredulous. “I didn’t even know we owned the game.”

“Five stole it.” Luther said, a little huffily. That was to be expected of Luther, though. Law-abiding nature and all that.

“Who’s winning?”

“Oh, we don’t know really. None of us have actually played it.” Allison said. “Five killed Luther for his Illinois Avenue then Vanya brought him back to life with those revitalisation powers she apparently possesses now.”

“Right… I’ve got to get in on this,” Diego smirked, leaning against the door-frame. Strange that apparently he had been the only one here to have actually played Monopoly before - he used to with Eudora and her nieces sometimes - but honestly his siblings’ version sounded better. “Watch out ape-man.” He gave his brother a side-eyed glance, making sure to wink brazenly to let him know it wasn’t meant with ill intent. 

“You sure?” Five said, who was nonchalantly counting his pile of cash, which seemed to be just about all of the money within the game. Diego felt the loaded subtext of ‘because Klaus’ hang in the air, leeching any previous joviality from the atmosphere his siblings had so delicately crafted. 

“I’m sure it’s fine, right Diego?” Luther said, “We can check every fifteen minutes and besides one of us is bound to notice if he leaves. Play with us - you don’t have to be his keeper all the time.”

“Thanks, man,” he said. And he meant it, because it did often feel like that. Not that he did what he did out of some kind of obligation or necessity - he wanted to help - but it really weighed on his shoulders every time something went wrong, and over many years that number had become quite substantial. He always felt as though it were his fault - that he hadn’t done enough. 

Diego knew better than to assume that they’d notice if Klaus slipped out; he’d paid for the consequences of that assumption one too many times. Klaus could be incredibly evasive, especially when having just entered the early withdrawal stages. Then again, Luther’s scheduling idea seemed like it could definitely work - he had to give him credit for that at least.

With that, Diego pulled out a chair and sat amongst his siblings to do something that was so sickeningly familial that a younger Diego may have gagged at the mere thought. Now though, he didn’t care what his past self would have thought - he only knew that this was good. It was all good.

This was evidence that all things were capable of healing. There would always be scars and nicks from where their pasts had bruised and battered them, but in the end it was moments like these that reminded Diego there was time. Time to begin again.

Chapter Text

In the following weeks, as the days stretched into early June, Luther and his siblings had fallen into a kind of rhythmic back-and-forth Klaus diligence programme. They made sure at least one of them always knew where he was at all times, always having someone hovering nearby.

As a family, they had swept over Klaus’ room where they surprisingly found only a single baggie of something Luther would preferably not know the contents of. Klaus had whined while sitting on top of his bed the entire search - ‘give it a rest, guys - I swear there’s nothing here’ - and made a hungry grab at the baggie as Luther found it within a stuffed unicorn. Luther was obviously strong enough to resist Klaus’ weakened onslaught of battering to his forearm.

Luther had been insolent enough at some point to even mention the idea of rehab and had quickly been shut down by Diego, who had all but shouted ‘no’ into his face at the suggestion. He didn’t doubt that Diego knew better than him though; Klaus and Diego had always been oddly close - they were polar opposites and yet somehow the dynamic sort of worked for them. It was Diego they all turned to now. Not Five. The change seemed to suit Five just fine - he was always better at handling world-ending events rather than family issues anyway. Diego, however, squirmed every time they looked to him for guidance; his brother had always fought so hard for leadership, Luther couldn’t understand why he didn’t jump at the opportunity.

Maybe he was embarrassed that they all saw him and Klaus curled up together in Diego’s bed. They hadn’t explicitly actually said anything yet Allison - in her typical fashion - had somehow collated an abundance of sleep related puns in order to drive Diego as insane as she possibly could.

By June 9th, a total of thirty-eight knives had been thrown in her direction.

Since their attempted Monopoly game (which Five had won by stealing all their money, which was something he was pretty sure was not in the rulebook), they had branched out to other games they never had gotten the chance to play in childhood. Their favourite turned out to be Uno, in which all of them became so highly competitive that Luther would often catch Pogo peering round a corner - possibly to ensure none of them had been murdered by another.

Amidst all the chaos and yelling, as spring turned to summer, it became more and more glaringly obvious that Klaus was… well, not Klaus. 

His brother, usually so endearingly obnoxious, played Uno with the air of a dying man. While he wasn’t exactly too close to Klaus, Luther knew him well enough to know how wrong this was - how the Klaus he knew would have thrived off this hectic environment - not sit playing cards with dark-rimmed, wordless eyes. The only way Luther could describe it was that Klaus was empty, drained of his vibrancy and couldn’t even be bothered to hide it anymore. He hated keeping Klaus on a metaphorical ball and chain, knew only too well the consequences entrapment could have on a sibling.

Luther’s mind went back to the day after the mobile phones, the Monopoly, the resurfacing of Klaus and the discovery of his relapse. The day of their makeshift intervention.

“Good morning dearest family,” Klaus had said cheerily enough somewhere in the late hours of the morning, “Lovely weather.”

It had, on that particular day, been raining quite heavily. After several weeks of stiff air and a biting springtime breeze, the clouds had once again become heavy and wept onto the earth below. 

His siblings exchanged glances. Diego had told them all Klaus would mention nothing of the day before - if he remembered at all - and would say almost anything to divert attention from the topic. It appeared that Diego definitely knew what he was talking about. 

Luther was never quite sure whether to feel bad about leaving Diego to handle Klaus all on his own for all of those years. In all honesty he hadn’t even been aware that Klaus needed help; the only time he heard of his brother was when he had to kick him out of the mansion for theft, and that had only happened twice - though he now assumed there had plenty more occasions, just Klaus had evidently evaded him. Klaus and Diego had been close in the same way he and Allison had been (kind of), yet the relationship between Klaus and himself was barely there at all. In hindsight, Luther didn’t suppose he had been a very good brother to him. Not that he had even tried for anyone except Allison. Above all, that was what had to change in him.

He remembered how Vanya’s anxious eyes had jumped to the window, to the rain that was steadily barraging the brittle glass. How her eyes had darted between the window and her brother quickly, surreptitiously.

 “We can’t not talk about it, Klaus.” Allison had said mildly enough, though her probing stare said otherwise.

“What?” Klaus matched her stare. Impudent as Klaus was, Luther detected an uncertainty behind his word, likely unsettled by ten eyes surveying his every action. He watched as his brother began chewing on his nail. “Anybody hungry? I’ll see if I can get Mom to wrangle us up some kind of delicacy… She was always good at-”

“Fuck, Klaus!” Luther could recall exactly how his heart had nearly jolted from his chest as he whipped round to see Diego, face painted in shades of both exasperation and desperation, eyes fixed on his brother with that same precision with which he threw knives. “Look, you know that I- we - all of us - just want to help, man. Please let us help you.”

Klaus didn’t move for what had seemed to Luther like an eternity, glancing at each of them in turn. As his brother’s eyes met his own, Luther could have sworn in that moment he saw something in him for the first time, before Klaus quickly looked away. Something caged behind his retina, the fluttering of a dove or a butterfly, trying to escape; a pleading, timid little thing that Luther could only recognise as a reflection of what you could see in his own eyes. A creature that said nothing other than let me go.

“What happened?” Luther had gently asked. He remembered expecting Diego to shoot him some kind of contemptuous glare or mutter something snide under his breath, but instead Luther saw Diego flash a smile at him across the table. Something genuine, something to cling to, something to tell him that this was the right path.

“Oh, you know how it is…” Klaus’ eyes rested on Luther, eyes once again guarded and challenging. That had felt a bit cruel at the time because Luther did know. A little bit. Not to the extent Klaus knew, but all the more so than the rest of them. “Got bored.”

“Bored?” Allison demanded, incredulous. Luther heard Vanya shuffle closer towards Five. “What do you mean bored?”

Klaus shrugged. “Bored.”

“You can’t have just been bored.”

“Why not?”

“Because! Because it doesn’t work like that!”

“It? What’s it?”

Allison had opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again. Her shoulders raised themselves a little, before dropping back down with a sigh. That was, Luther realised afterward, the first time he had ever seen his sister completely and utterly lost for words. She had caught his eye and raised her eyebrows - which was Allison for do something - but Luther had only shrugged, smiling slightly despite trying his best to keep his face neutral.

They sat in silence for some minutes before Pogo’s voice had come from the doorway. 

“Your mother asked me to let you children know that lunch is ready…” He hadn’t known exactly if Pogo had heard Allison’s raised voice or could just detect that terse silence in the room, accompanied only by the rain clattering at the windows, but the butler definitely knew something was amiss. “Everything okay in here?”

“We’re great Pogo,” Luther had said, on behalf of his whole family, “Just something we need to finish up first and we’ll be right in.” He performed his best smile, in the hope that Pogo would take that as a hint to leave.

“Very well.” And he left the way he came.

“So,” Luther said, enjoying the authoritative tone that had leeched back into his tone; he savoured each vowel on his tongue, his sense of leadership had been severely battered over the last year and a half - it was nice that it was making a reappearance. “You got bored? That’s it?”

“Yep, won’t happen again, I swear…  can we go eat now?”

Luther nodded, but not just in response to Klaus’ question. It was a nod that had said I believe you.

They had all called him an idiot later. You can’t just believe what he says, Luther! Even Vanya had clearly disapproved, though in her case it was more implied rather than stated, though Five was more than rude enough for the both of them. 

Being against the full force of his siblings again was not something Luther was entirely comfortable with - it was far too recent, far too familiar. Except this time it was different. He was on Klaus’ side when nobody else was. Why shouldn’t they trust him? Did any of them trust Klaus when he had been trying to tell them for years that he could talk to Ben despite everything? No. That had turned out to be the truth. A truth they had all been very forcefully told by the reanimated, glowing body of their dead brother ripping apart gunmen as one might tear through paper, Klaus’ fists blue and shaking with his power. None of them had believed Klaus, and that must have been terrible - so many years of it. Luther was not about to be the one who repeated their past mistakes. Besides, wasn’t that what the Diego-entitled ‘Team Zero’ was all about? Believing each other and having one another's backs?

Luther was proved wrong very quickly. In the span of one day, the group received their first piece of evidence that Klaus was not intending on swearing off drugs for life. Five had found him in his bedroom swiping books from their shelves and ripping open stuffed animals on the floor; there was no doubt in anyone’s mind as to what he was searching for. That debacle inspired a full bedroom sweep, through which Luther got regular dirty looks from Diego - that classic smug ‘I told you so’.

Somehow that didn’t dissuade Luther from trying, though. At every opportunity in the months that followed, Luther would argue to give Klaus the benefit of the doubt. When Klaus got sick and asked for cold medication it was Luther that gave it to him. When Klaus overslept, only Luther didn’t immediately storm into his room to check he was still in there. 

This was Klaus’ fight more than the rest of theirs. It had to come from him, and while Luther understood the coddling of their brother he couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Constant surveillance and monitoring had to feel like a prison sentence - which he had recently learned Klaus had already had received on more than one occasion. They had good intentions, of course, but they were keeping him locked up and it was clearly making him miserable. Each day that slipped by, Luther felt more like he was talking to a ghost rather than his brother and he couldn’t imagine that could be as a result of anything other than this restrictive regimen keeping him bound to his siblings like a dead weight. 

It didn’t seem right. 

It wasn’t right.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you’ve just been standing here?”

Luther was leant up against the wall opposing the bathroom door as Diego passed him, reluctant to be there from what Diego could tell. It was his turn to watch Klaus and he had just been informed that his oaf of a brother had already been standing outside the door for ten minutes and counting. Anything could wrong in ten minutes, Diego knew that all too well.

“You want me to smash the door down?” Luther said huffily, a tone Diego had never heard him use before but was in the recent months becoming increasingly more accustomed to. He didn’t like watching Klaus apparently, said it felt like entrapment. Like he could talk.

“No, but…” Diego interrupted himself by pounding at the door, “Klaus? You in there bro?”

“Just finishing up in here; don’t worry about my privacy or anything, it’s totally cool!” Vitriol soaked Klaus’ voice where it should have held that familiar accent of laughter, words splintering through the door that separated them. It hurt to have his brother this angry at him all of the time, but Diego only hoped that one day Klaus would understand that he was only doing the best he could manage. 

Luther flashed Diego probably the most infuriatingly vaunting eyebrow quirk; see? it said, I told you so. Punching Luther in the arm, Diego slouched against the wall, resisting every urge to put a knife through the plasterwork. 

“You don’t have to wait, Diego. I’m right here” Luther said warily, casting a quick glance back towards the door.

“There’s a window.” That was blunt. Even for his track record. Diego knew it wasn’t really fair on Klaus- Scratch that, it was completely unfair of him to assume the worst of his brother at every turn, except Diego couldn’t shake everything that had happened between them. Things Luther could not possibly even begin to fathom - they simply had different experiences with Klaus. He kept telling himself that if Luther had been through what he had, he’d agree with him wholeheartedly. Except he hadn’t. None of their family had. None of them had been there as Klaus went from having his feet dipped in the waters of self-destruction to diving straight into the deep end, where he plummeted to the bottom quicker and faster than Diego even had time to reckon for. 

“There’s no way down?”

“You’d be surprised how fucking agile he-”

“If you gentlemen wouldn’t mind ceasing to discuss me now,” Klaus had exited the bathroom, closing the door softly, keeping his head down, “The window’s locked by the way.”

“See Diego? The windows locked.” Luther echoed dutifully.

“That means he tried it, asshole.” Diego hissed quickly under his breath as Klaus started walking away from them. That conclusion had clearly not occurred to his dimwit brother since he stopped momentarily in his tracks; if asked, Diego would’ve sworn he could see his brain steaming from overexertion.

Ignoring that momentary bitter amusement, Diego caught up to Klaus and grabbed his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

Klaus whipped round, jaw set, gaze hardened and irate. As they stared at one another, Diego was once again brutally reminded of how waxen and drained his brother had looked recently - another one of his ghosts. Sure, Klaus had never been known for his glowing health or muscular physique but there was something eerie about him now. Even with his continued sobriety something haunted and sickly hung about him like a fog, a fog that had never appeared to be there before. Or at least, Diego had never noticed. 

“You sound like dad.” Klaus jeered, nonchalant but cutting. If literally anyone else had told him that, Diego knew that individual would be leaving with bruises. But this was Klaus. He couldn’t - not to him. Not now.

He watched as his brother traipsed down the hallway as though burdened by ball and chain. Klaus hadn’t changed clothes in days; there was something distinctly ‘Ben’ about what he was now sporting - a black hoodie and sweatpants. As kids, they had, of course, never really had a chance to dress in any way of their choosing but this was an ensemble Diego could picture Ben wearing as he moped around the mansion, nose in some old dusty book Diego probably wouldn’t be able to understand. Maybe it was a deliberate choice on Klaus’ part, to dress like their dead brother; he was being a dick about Ben recently. Diego knew Klaus was angry at them all for keeping him locked away in the mansion, but Diego didn’t feel that justified keeping their brother from them. The brother they all missed so much their hearts ached to see him, even one more time.

“He thinks you’re all being dicks.” had been Klaus’ only response the first time they’d asked to see him. Diego remembered the way he had laughed as he said it - a bitter, hollow laugh that rattled Diego’s skeleton. He hadn’t expanded on that answer since. Or given any other response. Every time: you're being dicks. 

Klaus had never yelled at him and Diego wouldn’t be surprised if that rang true for literally anyone Klaus had ever come into contact with, but Diego wished sometimes that Klaus would just shout. Let loose everything Diego just knew he hid and never released. Be done with these biting silences and humourless jokes, be done pretending everything is fucking perfect when any imbecile could tell that was so far from the truth. Something darker had twisted its way into his brother, but Klaus refused to show it - or maybe he refused to acknowledge it was there at all.

Something told him that if Klaus had been sober five (Diego) years ago - hell, probably even only one - Ben would be hanging around all the time and Diego would have his brother back. It wasn’t fair. Surely Ben couldn’t be as mad at them all as Klaus was? Surely Ben - clear-headed, logical Ben - could see that this was the smart move? A cruel part of Diego felt that Klaus was being selfish and petty - keeping Ben to himself as some form of passive revenge.

Interrupted from his brooding by a large hand on his back, Diego turned to see Luther watching him sympathetically. It made Diego feel nauseous. Who was Luther to pretend he was some omnibenevolent older brother figure who could do no wrong? It wasn’t too long ago that Allison was hammering at him in futile desperation, tears spilling silently as their little sister was pounding against the wall of her metal prison cell. Of course, Diego would never say that, but his mind did often revisit that memory these days. 

He wasn’t doing the same thing to Klaus, right?

Dinner was served and Diego’s siblings trickled slowly into the kitchen. As usual, Klaus didn’t show up. He was hardly eating at all these days, more inclined to wanting to waste away to a skeleton in his room. They were all aware of his absence, but they’d never discussed it. Without being told, whoever finished first would noiselessly take leftovers to his room in his stead.

The task usually fell to Diego.

“Hey, Klaus,” Diego knocked twice on Klaus’ door before pushing it ajar, “Mom made-” 

He stopped dead in his tracks. Fairy lights still glowed brightly onto the piles of clutter Klaus chose to ordain his room with, but their owner was nowhere in sight. A chasm opened up in Diego’s chest, because this is exactly how it always started: an empty room. Soon enough Diego would be scouring a street corner somewhere, asking random strangers if they had seen a flamboyantly-dressed, scrawny goth man. 

It settled slowly on his heart for a moment, freezing it like the remnants of snow after a snowstorm had blown over. That was when the panic set in.

“Klaus? Klaus?” Diego yelled, hoping for his brother to have been there all along - that it had been some weird trick of the light.

“Yes?” Came a voice from behind him. 

Klaus.

Rage shoved his panic aside and roared against his clenched fists, begging to be swung. 

“Where were you?” Diego said between shaky breaths, trying to keep his cool. Klaus deserved that much.

“Toilet.”

“Again?”

“Yes, Diego. Usually people pee more than once a day.” That usual raised eyebrow and general Klaus snark would usually have tempered his fury, but now - under these circumstances - Diego snapped. He did this on purpose; he must have heard Diego coming up the stairs. This could not be a coincidence. 

“You fucking prick, you did this on purpose!” Diego barked, grabbing Klaus by the shirt and pulling him forward. 

“Diego let go!” 

It was Allison. Soft but demanding, her voice made Diego’s fist unclench and release his brother. Apparently completely unaffected, Klaus smiled mendaciously at their sister, who Diego now realised had been closely tailed by Vanya. He couldn’t look Klaus in the eye. That had been a display of months worth of Klaus’ subtle, little jibes and games finally taking their toll on him, and it was embarrassing. To lose his cool that quickly - when he was supposed to be helping. That was low. Even for him.

Allison would understand that, though, Diego thought. She had always been hyper-aware of other people’s emotions and motivations and he’d always admired her for that, despite being fully aware she had probably learned that as a result of her power - whether that be in training or otherwise; a power released by the spoken word required an understanding of people, especially when the rumours became more complex. Sure enough, Allison was watching him with that motherly gaze he didn’t realise she possessed until she physically became a mother. Her eyes asked what happened? and Diego couldn’t answer. 

“Klaus? Are you okay?” Vanya piped up. His sisters must have heard him shouting their brothers name, he could only imagine the entire family hearing him calling Klaus’ name and having the exact same thought that had dizzied Diego’s own mind. 

All of their attention turned to Klaus whose shoulders had begun to shake as his hair hung over his face. He hadn’t had it cut or brushed in months, and the way it hung over his now trembling frame chilled Diego to the bone - he had no idea what was happening. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Vanny. I’m great.” 

The air went quiet and stale.

“Are you sure because…

“Because what? Because ‘oh, Klaus you look like death!’, ‘Klaus you need to eat, Klaus!’, ‘Klaus don’t go to the toilet! We need to make sure you don’t jump out the window’” He was staring straight ahead now, eyes hardened and glassy, but still wracked with what Diego had now realised was laughter. Manic laughter that clutched at his brother’s body like a shadow. Vanya look like she was just about ready to break down. 

“Klaus?” It was the only thing Diego could think to say.

“Di, please,” Klaus said as uncontrolled, quiet laughter shook him. Right now, Klaus was like some haunting doppelgänger that was both so achingly familiar to Diego and also a complete stranger. “Stop acting like I’m going to shatter like- like- like when you throw a bottle and hits the rim of the bin and its just a mess. Just glass everywhere - fucking pandemonium.” Klaus mimed an explosion with his hands

The trio of onlookers fell silent, staring. Diego could feel the blood pounding in his ears, unsure of what to do or say. Mute faces from both of his sisters showed they seemed to be grappling with that simile just as much as Diego currently was. The silence was suffocating.

“Okay!” Klaus said, still laughing that skeleton of a laugh, “Okay! So maybe not the best choice of words! My bad! Sorry guys, I’ll just…” Turning to leave, Klaus averted his eyes to the ground, and scrambled away from the congregation of siblings that had formed in the hallway. Diego thought it best to let him go; Klaus was scaring him right now and he thought they probably both needed some time alone.

Vanya, evidently, had other ideas. 

“Klaus, wait-” She said grabbing his wrist gently.

Recoiling so quickly Diego barely saw him move, Klaus flinched out of Vanya’s grasp. Somewhere, glass shattered. Vanya staggered back to where Allison put an arm around her protectively. 

The moments that followed blurred together in Diego’s mind.

Klaus turned round to face them again, breathing heavy and eyes glazed and unseeing in the soft lamplight - skittish as a creature in car headlights. Backing into the wall - away from his siblings, away from everything - Klaus took several shaky breaths as though a cornered animal. 

“Klaus?” he whispered into the leaden hush that stifled the already cramped corridor. His brother’s name seemed to be the only thing currently in Diego’s vocabulary.

Blue light flashed behind Diego and when he turned to look Vanya had disappeared. He looked at Allison, who just shook her head, arm still hanging limply from where she had been holding her.

When Diego fixed his gaze back to his brother, he noticed the blank-paged stare had melted into panic and confusion, blinking at his siblings in a sudden understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus choked, breathing ragged, “Sorry.”

With that, Klaus fled into his room. The door shut with a dense click, echoing into Diego’s ears. 

That had never happened before. Not like this.

Moments passed in complete silence, as both Diego and Allison found their footing in the chaos.

Diego sprang to attention as Allison cleared her throat loudly. In normal circumstances he had no doubt she would tease him relentlessly, but these were not normal circumstances; in fact, he didn’t even know if she noticed his body go stiff and his eyes swivel to the sound of her voice.

“That was scary, Diego. Like really fucking scary.”

Allison had always been their big sister. They may have all been born at the same time but, aside from Five who had disappeared too early for it to count for anything much, Allison had been the oldest. She was calm, she was caring and most importantly she possessed a quiet self-assuredness the rest of them could only dream of. Sometimes, in the years he barely saw any of his family, he wondered if it had been ruse - she had the powers to do so, after all. It was easy to doubt Allison - he wondered if that ever bothered her.

Even so, he had never seen her scared. Not even as kids had he seen her as shaken as she appeared now. Maybe it was the knowledge her rumour couldn’t help, not without sacrificing any remaining morality they had left. Maybe she wasn’t used to being powerless.

It wasn’t that Diego disagreed with her either. This was entirely new to him too. Diego truly believed until now that he had witnessed, in an abject horror, the lowest Klaus could possibly go. He had to fight knives from Klaus’ hands before, had to watch as he overdosed right in front of his eyes as paramedics grappled with a ragdoll body, had to pick him up from alleys and flophouses. And somehow this was scarier. 

Peril, duty and responsibility. These were things Diego knew well, almost as though he had been specifically trained to keep an eye out for Klaus. He was equipped to wrestle his brother, watch over his brother, chauffeur his brother but this, this was something Diego had no idea how to navigate. Lost in a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean, no compass or map to guide him, Diego was scared of what he had seen in his brother tonight. Completely sober, Klaus had regressed to an almost primal hysteria. Diego couldn’t tell himself it would all get better when he was clean - the way he used to do - because he was. For most of his life, that was all Diego had hoped for and now they were here, nothing had been repaired. Nothing had changed. 

“That wasn’t- you know- that has never-?” 

Dumbly, Diego shook his head. Sure, Klaus could be scary off his face, but he was never himself scared. 

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know Alli. I don’t know.” It was true. For the first time in over twenty years, Diego Hargreeves was lost.

Chapter Text

“Are you okay? What happened?” Five demanded when he and Vanya blinked into the empty living room. He realised after a moment that he was holding her tightly - too tightly - at the arms, and released his grip, studying his sister thoughtfully. Her eyes were glistening and her jaw was tense but otherwise seemed relatively okay.

“I’m okay.” Voice as small as it once was when she was still the only powerless one, the only one worth disregarding. Of course, Five had never thought her worthless the way their father had or the way their remaining siblings had treated her. His biggest regret about running away was not the getting stuck in the apocalypse itself, but the knowledge he hadn’t been there for her. If it weren’t for him leaving, maybe there wouldn’t even have been an apocalypse to prevent in the first place...

No use dwelling on the past.

“What triggered it?”

“What?”

“The glass. You shattered the kitchen window?” Five prompted gently. There was a time and place for his embittered impatience and it certainly was not now.

“I did? Fuck… I’m so sorry, I thought I could control it now… I just…” 

Hanging her head low, Vanya’s body began to tremble with whatever self-loathing she was now surely inflicting upon herself. Five knew that she wouldn’t have meant to break the window, that it would have been a surge of emotions that she couldn’t control. He didn’t blame her - not that he ever really blamed her for anything. 

“It’s not your fault, Vanya. I know that. The others know that. Windows can easily be replaced, I'm just glad it was only a minor surge. You’re clearly getting a better handle of it.” Not being able to contain the small smirk that crept onto his face as Vanya lifted her head, nodded and smiled at him. Five allowed himself to be sentimental. To succumb to a moment of human weakness.

“I’m really proud of you, Vanya. We all are.”

She hung her head again, but this time Five could clearly see a grin painted across her face as she shifted on her feet. Vanya had never done too well with praise, sadly entirely inexperienced with compliments in general, but Five could tell he had done a good thing here. The weakness was worth it.

“Thank you, Five,” Vanya whispered, bashfully, “Really, thank you so much.” Five could tell she meant every word.

“So how does it work? Your power?” Five asked nonchalantly after a few minutes of companionable silence. 

“I’m still not sure…” Vanya said, slowly, having returned to her regular self - or at least the version of Vanya that they were now all accustomed to. “I thought I’d figured it out, but I guess it’s more complex than I thought.”

“How do you mean?” 

“I thought it was sound that controlled it, with my emotions sometimes adding extra force to the surge. I’d focus on one sound and drown everything else out until I could channel that energy to whatever I need to do. Does that make sense?”

Five nodded reassuringly.

“It’s just…” Vanya faltered, struggling to formulate her words, “It’s just I thought that was it. It has worked up until now, as long as I don’t focus on one sound too long I can usually control it.”

“But?”

“But today… Today it was random, I didn’t even feel it coming. I heard all the sounds the way I normally would - without the power. I guess this surge was just… Startled out of me? Apparently that can still happen…” Vanya’s eyes widened suddenly, a realisation tugging at her lips, “I’m not safe, none of you are safe around me.” she breathed, horror-struck.

“We’re as safe as we need to be.” Five said, forcing conviction into his voice despite not truly believing it himself. As much as he loved and cared for Vanya and knew she would never deliberately put any of them in harm’s way, if what she was telling him was true… that meant she was right. It was unpredictable. Risky.

Vanya watched him, unbelieving, as he hesitated for a moment.

“Hey, how about you and me train a bit? We can find an open field somewhere, and we can figure this out. Together.”

“Yes. Yes please.” Vanya said, staunch.

Determination and resolve was once again set into his jaw. This would work. To give Vanya the training sessions she had never received like the rest of them seemed only fair to her. Except without the cruelty, the punishment and the overbearing hook-nosed presence of their father. 

In exceptionally high spirits after his conversation with Vanya, Five entirely forgot to interrogate the reasons for Vanya’s accidental, startled vandalism. He had never asked her what Klaus had done to evoke such split-second fright in her. Hadn’t even thought of his other siblings during their conversation. Luther still sitting with Mom in the kitchen, Klaus, Diego and Allison wreaking havoc upstairs. They were lost on him for the first time since landing in the apocalypse. He had been contented enough, comfortable enough, for it to ease his constant panicked monologue. All the terrible things he conjured up about what his siblings may be experiencing - or causing.

That feeling didn’t last long.

He fully intended on making himself a Fluffernutter (you could never be too old for some things) as he strolled into the kitchen with her, only to find Luther eating the remnants of his meal  haplessly. Ignoring him, he went to reach for the sliced loaf on their fridge - he had to stand on tiptoe, which was mildly infuriating. As he was applying a thick coat of peanut butter, he felt Luther’s watchful gaze upon him. He knew that feeling - the way he was looking at him - a quiet anticipation. Honestly, he couldn’t believe how dependent they were - all of his siblings - Five may be the most competent of all of them but that didn’t make him omniscient. 

“What? You want some?” he said snidely, knowing full-well that wasn’t what Luther wanted from him.

“No…” He was choosing his words carefully. Five had been with them for less than a year, and none of them ever seemed to know how to speak to him, “Just… What happened up there?” Watching as Luther sent a quick smile in Vanya’s direction, in case she needed comforting, the hackles of Five’s love bristled. He didn’t want to love them (he had realised recently love was definitely the word for it) the way he did; it was far too temperamental - the only thing truly out of Five’s control.

“Do you need to know?”

“Yes…?”   

The thing was, he had agreed to their terms when they suggested no more secrets be kept from each other because he agreed - mostly. Then again that didn’t mean he needed an update on everything that happened unless it was pressing. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. On the contrary. He cared for each and every one of his siblings more than he would ever let on, just Five preferred to keep his distance from the emotional at any cost. He’d never really been that apt at handling such things - Allison and Klaus were the best at the emotional stuff when they were kids - but it wasn’t like his forty years alone had done much to develop his emotional maturity.

“Why don’t I go ask?”

All Five heard was a muffled confused noise, which sounded like the beginning of a question, before he blinked away.

Klaus, who had been sitting pensively on his bed, jumped up with a yelp as Five blinked into his room. 

“What the hell, man? You can’t just burst in on people like that!” Five walked over and sat comfortably at the edge of Klaus’ bed, “I mean,” Klaus continued coming to face him with arms folded like he was scolding a child and smirking “What if I was doing something unholy?”

Confused, Five paused. Unholy? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Sensing Five’s hesitation, Klaus smiled like a maniac and look quickly down-wards then back up again, fixing his gaze on Five and winking. It took everything in him not to choke on air, as the realisation hit him like a truck full of bricks. 

“You weren’t, though.” Five turned his back on what was definitely his brother miming something he very much did not want to see, suddenly incredibly interested in the various drawings and words on Klaus’ wall, “So it’s fine.”

“Okay, buddy. But think of that next time. Just imagine me just going ham on-” 

“Shut up. Klaus…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to face him again, “Please just shut up.”

Klaus giggled in a way Five hadn’t heard in a while; since Klaus had been withdrawing from the family, his humour had become more and more shallow and snide in nature - resorting to sarcasm in place of his almost childish bouts of insanity. Despite being thoroughly disgusted, this was the Klaus he had come to know for the brief period he had spent with him after coming back from the future.

“So what are you in for?” Klaus said sauntered over and sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him.

“This isn’t a prison.” Five said, his brother’s phrasing striking him as odd but not uncharacteristic.

“Might as well be.” Klaus said. He laughed quietly, bitter and surly. This was the humour - if you could even call it that - Five was now accustomed to hearing from Klaus. He knew Klaus’ opinion on what they had been doing and, morally speaking, he wasn’t sure if he liked it either. Diego said it was necessary, though, and Five trusted Diego’s judgement on this one. From what he’d heard, he had been the only one left to look out for Klaus all those years after they all left the academy. The rest of them had completely shut him out of their lives. Five liked to think if he had been around, he’d have been there for Klaus. 

Choosing to ignore that last statement rather than entertain it, in the hopes Klaus would return to how he was only seconds before, Five pressed on into his investigation. 

“I came to check what you think made Vanya explode like that?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier. She shattered a window, downstairs.”

“Oh.” Klaus said tentatively, as though he didn’t quite believe what Five was saying, “Well… Yeah I guess that was my fault.”

Klaus looked down at his open palms, as if the tattoos there would help him somehow. They were fading now, which only made Five think about how many times Klaus must have had those tattoos redone - it seemed like an awfully big commitment for a joke based on a superpower he seemed to hate. Five also spotted several indentations, some of which were scabbing, in his brother’s palms from where he could only assume his own nails had sunk into their tattooed surface. He looked away immediately, pretending not to have noticed.

“How so?”

“I think… I don’t know- I must have scared her. I-” Klaus hung his head, refusing to make eye contact with anything but his own lap, “Shit, Five. I swore to myself none of you would ever see that.”

“See what?”

“Nothing.”

Uneasy silence dripped into Five’s veins. God, he hated this so much - why was he the one here now, when Allison was readily available probably just a few rooms away? Even Diego would be preferable to him.

The silence stretched out in front of him and Five once again fixated on the state of Klaus’ walls. How come he’d never really registered this before? Writing, doodles of eyes and stickers littered the yellowish wood for as far as Klaus could probably reach from his bed. He had some vague memory that Klaus would sometimes doodle on his walls during the night or during their half-hour of alloted free-time, but somehow he’d never noticed it being this expansive. It was unhinged and yet strangely beautiful from a distance. Most of all it was, without a doubt, wholly and completely Klaus.

Five’s eyes lingered on a line above an intricately decorated… something, way above his head. He craned his neck and read: “One day I aspire to illegally land a plane in Mexico.” In spite of himself, Five chuckled aloud.

“What?” Klaus said, unsettled and confused.

“I didn’t know you aspired to illegally land a plane in Mexico.” Five smiled at his brother gently, and Klaus smiled back - uncertain but genuine.

“Yeah, well… Mexican jail seems to be good character development.” 

“Yeah, you said,” Five laughed, reading the next line.

“Did I?” 

Five hummed in confirmation, and moved to stare at the wall in more depth, shifting towards it on his knees, strangely intrigued by whatever it was Klaus wrote on his walls. Maybe this could be some indication into whatever went on his brother’s head. Klaus had always been the sibling that eluded him most; he already had so many secrets and facets to his personality at thirteen and now, in his thirties, that had only seemed to have multiplied tenfold.

“Hey… hey, Five? Five what are you doing?” Klaus said, scrambling over the bedsheets to watch Five with wide eyes, “This is all stupid. And ages ago… Teenage poetry - super embarrassing, right? You don’t need to worry about-”

Drowning him out the way Five usually did when his siblings started talking in simple sentences, he ignored Klaus’ protests. Something like this, a puzzle, as wild and rambling as it was, was now laid out for him on a silver platter. It was enticing to say the least. Everyday since they solved all the world-ending problems - the problems he had been working at for 45 years - he didn’t have a clue what to do with himself. He needed something, anything, to occupy him. Challenge his mind. And in some strange way deciphering Klaus’ wall of practical hieroglyphics seemed the closest to that he could get. Even ten minutes of escape from brain-rotting, insanity-inducing boredom seemed worthwhile.

Do not feed the animals.

“Five?”

How do you know who I am

This one was interesting, Five thought as his eyes lingered on the crowded canvas. His eyes flitting across the expanse of the wall space, Five was trying to make out the illegible and process the legible, feeling his brain clicking into that natural rhythm of logic - a familiar steeling of his mind. Once the training he had planned with Vanya began he knew he would have something concrete to keep his brain from spinning into madness. Something not as contrived as creepily analysing his brother’s psyche from old wall doodles or that time he went and bought seven crossword books to keep himself from wasting away. They had only lasted one afternoon anyway. 

Forge my soul in the fire.

“You know, I can’t even remember writing most of these! I mean…”

Where the fire burns so do I. Feel the pain electrifying me. 

“I was probably, like, really high so I mean you can’t really take any of it seriously…” Klaus chuckled, both bitter and soured. But Five wasn’t even listening anymore, as his gaze fell onto the final line of the section he was reading.

You cannot kill the willing to die.

There was something so curt about it and so strangely and hauntingly poetic that it stopped even Five for a moment, a gust of cold wind having suddenly carried his cohesive thought away. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but for it to be laid out so neatly, in a printed font on his brother’s own walls, was jarring, to say the least. 

What Five was doing immediately capsized, turning from an exercise in keeping his own personal frustrations at the mindless tedium of ‘normal life’ to an invasion of Klaus’ most basic sense of privacy. Despite all his protest, Five had valued warding off boredom over Klaus’ privacy. If one of his siblings - anyone, actually - did that to him, he knew he would lose his shit; the problem was Klaus wasn’t the type to ‘lose his shit’ and Five had unwittingly taken that for granted. It was shameful.

He shuffled back from the wall, head pounding with shame and guilt. Klaus audibly sighed with relief; his brother had clearly just clocked Five was done tormenting him.

Five knew that saving his family from impending doom wasn’t enough to demonstrate the unfaltering, and sometimes frankly revolting, love and care he felt for them all. On the surface, it sounded as though such a grand gesture should get him a bit of credit but honestly, Five quickly understood the virtues of listening and communicating. He wasn’t good at it (fucking terrible, actually) but he made a silent pact with himself to try. 

For them. For all the years they’d lost together.

Awkwardly and still very much embarrassed by his own behaviour - he was old enough to know better than to snoop at his siblings’ personal things, even if they were spread across their bedroom walls - Five turned back to look at Klaus, who was watching him gratefully. 

Five got the distinct impression Klaus wouldn’t want to talk about it and so he didn’t ask. Instead they sat in an uneasy sort of quiet, Klaus’ leg bouncing up and down. He desperately wanted to to leave at this point - he got what he came here for after all - but he supposed this was part of the effort. To stay. 

“Hey, um…” Klaus said after a while, “Is Vanya okay? I mean we were all a little wobbly with our powers at the beginning, and that was never fun…” A grim smile was plastered onto his face as he stared straight at the door, probably reminiscing about some childhood memory. Sure enough, as Five faltered Klaus continued, “Remember how much cutlery Luther broke as a kid?”

Fondly, Five smiled for a moment and nodded. He always liked to imagine a large chunk of Hargreeves’ budget disappearing due to Luther’s persistently smashed cups and bent knives, forks and spoons.

“She’s fine,” Five eventually answered, maybe a little late, “We were going to go do some training - somewhere open, with not many people. Seems only right, since we all only learned how to control our powers after months-worth of personalised training from dad.”

“Oh.” Klaus simply said, “That’s nice - yeah that’s really cool of you.”

“Vanya can’t be expected to learn all of that on her own.”

“Do you think… Could I come? When I met dad in the afterlife he said something about my ‘unrealised potential’ or something and I’d, you know, like to maybe figure out what dear old dad meant?” 

Klaus was watching him expectantly and Five couldn’t tell whether he was just old, or if Klaus really did look just like a child in that moment. Often in these situations, Five would say something cutting or disparaging towards Klaus, knocking his proposal into the dust; he’d done so as kids, and since he came back he quickly fell into that same cycle of dismissal and mockery. It never really seemed to effect him when they were little; Klaus would always just laugh, stick out his tongue or middle finger and move on quickly. Only now did Five realise that maybe an entire lifetime spent constantly being both mistrusted and ridiculed by the only people who probably held the capacity to understand, was not something a person could just brush off. 

“I don’t know if I could focus on both of you at once,” Five said carefully, “Maybe after Vanya, since you seem to be pretty in control of your power right now?”

“Oh. Hm, yeah I guess so.”

“How did you contact dad last time? If you could do it again, maybe you’d get a chance to ask him?” Five proffered.

Feeling quite confident in the idea, Five was startled when Klaus snorted. 

“I mean, yeah, if you want to do the honours - sure I could talk to him.”

None of what Klaus was saying made sense to him anymore, one second they were on the same page and now it felt like Klaus had some secret inside joke Five wasn’t a part of. He didn’t really want to ask, given the unlimited vulgar directions any conversation with Klaus could go. Right now, Five was safe. He was dipping his toes out of his comfort zone but remained very much on dry land. Baby steps, right?

“Do you want to come downstairs? We could play Uno…” Five heard his voice speaking, uneasy but inviting, but wasn’t quite in control of it. The voice was something foreign to him, fueled by some strange familial and unprovoked sentiment, tumbling from his mouth before he even had a chance to close it.  

It was okay, though, not thinking. Klaus was grinning at him, eyebrows raised fondly, having definitely picked up on the uncharacteristically affectionate question. He braced himself for the teasing, but it never came. 

“I’m okay, but thank you,” Klaus was still smiling - still warm - but the twinkling in his eye had once again disappeared behind whatever blinds he drew up, blocking his soul from view, “I’m just going to… you know,” he gestured aimlessly around the room, “Be up here for a bit. You guys should totally do that though! Just try not to kill each other.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

As Five stood to leave, he heard his brother’s voice behind him. 

“I missed you, Fivey.”

“I missed you too.”

Klaus didn’t see Five’s smile as he walked away, but he liked to imagine Klaus knew it was there. 

Chapter Text

Klaus knew he had broken the window.

It was just that Five seemed to be so convinced it was their sister - I mean that was her power after all. It made sense that way. Yet something in him knew without a doubt that it hadn’t been Vanya but him. He had felt it. Something inside him shattered like the panes in the window, and surged. It was both searingly hot and chilling at the same time, as though someone had set him on fire and poured icewater into his veins all at once.

There was no explaining it. Dad had said that he had unrealised potential - that Klaus was his greatest disappointment - but he had come to assume that mystery had been solved in the 60s. When Ben had possessed him. Klaus still shuddered to think of that. It was another invasive and terrifying ability. Just another shitty power to add to his collection, he had thought. Ben had taken it too far; he remembered feeling helpless and claustrophobic, tugging at the edges of his own consciousness, almost begging Ben to let him back in, hand him back the reins. But Ben and Diego had decided to keep him locked in, because he wasn’t capable of following instruction apparently. It hurt to know that, for all his trying, he would always be the Klaus he had unintentionally introduced to them - untrustworthy, entirely unreliable. 

He hadn’t told Ben of course, and now he never would. Part of him wouldn’t mind spending hours in the uncontrollable, mausoleum-like husk of his own body, if it meant he could have his brother back.

“Hey, Ben…” Klaus said aloud. He’d been doing that a lot recently, talking to the air like he normally did - only this time nobody was listening. “This is usually when you’d tell me to relax you know? I don’t know how to do any of this without you - you were the sane one, remember? This power could hurt someone but I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell them - they won’t believe me again and- I don’t know what to do Benny… Just walk up to them and announce it? That’d go well.”

Chuckling mirthlessly, Klaus leant back to flop down on his bed and stare up at the ceiling. The blu tack marks were still visible from when he had transformed his ceiling to a canopy of stars; they had just been those plastic glow stars but they had been beautiful to him while they lasted. Mom had given them to him when he was still a kid, when she had realised the dark terrified him. Reginald had taken them away, of course, had said she was too soft on them all. Klaus was almost certain he had reprogrammed her to stop giving gifts right after that.

“You know, Ben when you were around I could always feel you. I guess, since you were like a manifestation of my power or something, part of me was always working to keep you around - keep you aging and unbloodied and shit - and I didn’t even know it. Until I just- Back there at the FBI building- I just couldn’t feel you anymore. You were gone. I felt lighter, but a horrible lightness; like I was untethered and ready to be pulled away by a tiny gust of wind. That’s when I knew that I’d never see you again…

18 years man… How did you not get sick of me? I guess you did, probably, a few times” Klaus laughed sharply, remembering every time Ben would sulk and disappear off on ghost business - he’d never actually bothered to ask where Ben went when he wasn’t with Klaus, “Just… Thanks. For everything, I think - no, I know - I wouldn’t have made it through my twenties without you.”

He sighed. Klaus knew that what he was doing right now, the expectation that Ben was still somehow there and still listening, was insanity. In all the years he had spent jumping from one stranger’s couch to the next, he had honestly never known what it was to be truly alone. Ben was always there, trailing him like his own warm shadow. He had been as dependent on the ghost of his brother as he had been any chemical assistance to get through each day. Now he was stranded on some unfamiliar shoreline, against a thick, black sea.

 Hollow blu tack stains twinkled from the ceiling above. Each little mark on his ceiling a memory of something lost.

A pounding at the door jerked Klaus from their musings. They didn’t respond, and so the door cracked open allowing the hall light to flood in, ruining a small section of Klaus’ former nighttime canvas with stark, yellowed light against the shadows. Diego’s head poked timidly through the door, as though suddenly afraid of them; Klaus knew this would happen - that they would all suddenly decide to walk on eggshells around them, it’s what Diego always did. As Klaus’ closest sibling and the sole living member of their family who had even made an effort to stick around throughout all the ups and downs (okay, mostly downs), theoretically Diego should be most compassionate and most understanding, and yet it was Diego that was the ringleader of Klaus’ personal living hell. Being locked up with nothing but grief for company, its ugly hands clasped around their wrist, unrelenting and tugging them further and further into the depths. 

“Hey, man, we’re all turning in now. Get some rest too, okay?”

Klaus wanted to comment on how rest was literally the only thing they could do anymore, but decided against it. Their brother looked exhausted and weary, and they’d done enough to hurt him today. Instead they simply gave a classic lopsided grin, sticking their thumb up in acknowledgment and watched as Diego nodded, lost in some other thought. Pensively patting the door-frame twice, as though it were in need of comfort, Diego eventually closed the door with a gentle click.

Once Klaus was sure the house was asleep, they got out of bed and padded barefoot into the hall. Flicking the lights on again as they moved through the house, Klaus meandered through their childhood home, gleefully aware that what they were currently doing would have been so not allowed back in the day. There was a weird kind of thrill in that. A kind of ‘fuck you’ toward their father, even in the grave. 

Turning the lights on made it more likely they’d be caught, of course, but Klaus couldn’t even begin to care about that - the darkness just made the dismembered figures all the more frightening. Besides, the blackness was immensely claustrophobic, sucking the air from Klaus’ chest the same way it gulped greedily at the light. It reminded them of… Well, never mind. 

It wasn’t a crime to have the lights on in their own house at night, logically they did know that, but somehow these months of feeling as though they were a test subject in a vivisection made doing anything not explicitly instructed feel illegal. Strange really, how Reginald had never been able to control them - they had always found a way of slinking out - but now it was their own siblings they felt almost compelled to do as they said. Maybe it was that they knew, in their heart of hearts, that their siblings actually meant well, or maybe it was that as a child they had always tried to make life as difficult for their father as they possibly could. 

From the corner, a young man was watching him. He wasn’t screaming like the others, and Klaus almost thought it was Ben. That Ben had returned from the great beyond and come back to them. It wasn’t him, of course. Instead it was this quiet man, looking relatively unfazed for a dead guy, arms folded and covering a knife wound in his chest. One of Diego’s, Klaus thought grimly.

 One of the only things Klaus had really learned about the ghosts, despite the many terrible years they had endured them for, was that ghosts tended to hang around either the place they died or the person that killed them. This fun tidbit gave them the super fun job of getting to listen to a delightfully cacophonous chorus from hordes of the people their siblings had killed, all screaming at them to take revenge on their behalf. It was one thing being yelled at, but entirely another thing when those voices wanted their siblings dead.

Ghosts were fundamentally devoid of whatever they had been in life. They always supposed it was the last of their hope dying, or something equally depressing, that made them the way they were. Either that, or Klaus just had really shit luck with the types of ghosts they had been meeting - the kind that felt the need to try tearing and pulling at a scared eight-year-old locked in a mausoleum.

Ben used to help with that. The ghosts never really got too close when Ben was around - like he was the alpha-ghost or something - but now they were starting to get real invasive again, almost how they were when Klaus was a kid. Klaus didn’t stand a chance when the day came, the day where the looming threat became actualised and the ghosts would reach out to grab their arms, hands, hair, legs. 

God, Klaus needed Ben more than anything. Their brother had always been their anchor, their lighthouse against a craggy and perilous cliff-face. Now he was gone, they didn’t know how much longer they could go on like this. They were so tired.

And so, Klaus found themself in Ben’s old bedroom. It was up the stairs next to Five’s, the door left untouched and unopened since Ben’s death. Paint from the door-frame had melted to the door itself, creating a cracking sound as Klaus forced themself in, dust immediately billowing into their face. Ben had barely even touched this room in the last year he was alive, having essentially moved into Klaus’ room at the cusp of sixteen. The Horror had been becoming less and less manageable and Klaus… Klaus had recently discovered firsthand - with the help of some older men they’d encountered at a party they had snuck off to - that the drug-world was so much bigger than just weed. 

They needed each other. In childhood they had always bonded over being the owners of the petrifying, good-for-nothing skill sets, but that was when they had become truly close, that last year. Dependent on each other, even. 

Now though, standing in their twice-dead brother’s room, everything exactly as they remembered save for the thick layer of dust covering every inch of the room - including Ben’s beloved books - Klaus just felt angry. Angry at their father for raising them all for slaughter; angry at Diego, at Allison, at Five and Vanya, even at Luther for keeping them here in this mansion covered in dust and torment; angry at his birth-parents for dumping them into such a shit-hole to begin with. But most of all, they slowly realised, as the musty scent of their dead brother lingered under their nose, Klaus was furious at Ben. Irrational, yes, but very much real and seething beneath their shivering skin. 

Ben knew how much Klaus needed him and left anyway. Saving the world felt in this moment to Klaus as the most insignificant thing in the world, when their own world had been crumbling before their eyes most of their life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Ben got to take his ticket to heaven, while Klaus had to stay here hopelessly alone. 

They needed to get out of here.

Bright light exploded suddenly into Klaus’ vision and under their skin. Anger. White-hot and nothing like Klaus had ever known in their life, like lightning tearing at them from the inside. They let themself ride it - a crackling wave roaring in through a child’s bedroom window. Gave themself permission to feel it this time. Rage had always been something unfamiliar to Klaus, it used to drive Diego insane who ended up punching things (and people if they were unlucky) on Klaus’ behalf. Now, though, it hit them all at once. Every single jab and offhand comment from their siblings, every sneering homophobic remark that came with dressing and acting the way they did, for all the people they had lost on this long, pitiful excuse for a life. Enough was enough.

Fists balled, Klaus knew this kind of anger was usually combatted by punching, kicking, screaming, but they were motionless. Invisible currents ricocheted off every surface in Ben’s old bedroom, hissing burning, and Klaus could feel all of it. 

And then it was still. Empty.

A sudden calm lapped over their skin and hollowed out their insides. It was apathy but not like they’d ever known it to be like. It was all still there: the burst of anger and frustration, the all-consuming grief and the terror that had clung to the hairs of their skin all their life, they could still feel it, just now it hardly seemed to matter. A soft, green haze had begun to spread across Ben’s room and a glance into a cobweb-ridden mirror reflected the figure of somebody, eyes and hands pulsating with green light, staring back at them. They were glowing. 

They panicked. Green energy pulsed and dissipated. Came crashing back down to be met once again with each emotion they had just relinquished for a few blissful moments, only now they were all drowned out by a staggering sense of mingled terror and wonder. That was- they looked like Vanya. It had just been a theory before, a blind optimism that maybe the old man hadn’t just meant possession when he had said ‘unrealised potential’, but now it was tangibly real. That had really happened. 

That had been far too weird. Klaus had enough on his mind without the addition of the creepy, powerful surge he had just created with his hurt and frustration, in a childlike unwillingness to understand why the universe insisted on dealing him one bad hand after the other. 

Diego was probably right, he should try and get some rest; he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept through the night. This was dangerous but, he admitted to himself as he slunk back towards his room, it could also be powerful. His siblings could find him useful for a change, he could finally be taken seriously. Of course he would have to tell them first, not that they’d ever believe it - but they had all promised each other, no more secrets, especially if it was the kind of secret that couldn’t be controlled. 

He crept down the stairs. Klaus often wondered if Five was lonely up here in his bedroom, he knew Ben had been, when Five disappeared himself - it was only three years before Ben moved downstairs with Klaus. He also wondered how the fuck Five hadn’t woken up yet, he had hardly been particularly quiet. It was probably the old man in him, Klaus thought amusedly, he probably needed his pubescent equivalent of beauty sleep.

“Shit!” Klaus gasped, heart immediately hammering against his ribcage. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his outburst. Too busy thinking of the comedic richness of having a brother who was both a senior and a little boy in school uniform, he had almost not seen the mangled corpse that stood, bent-double and torn to shreds, in front of their trophy cases. He didn’t see too many of Ben’s victims around the house. For the most part, those that lingered here had been scared to haunt Klaus while Ben still tailed him. Hideously grotesque, a maimed and misshapen bloody mess of what had once been a person. The fortnight before Klaus had left the mansion, aged seventeen with Ben newly and permanently by his side, had been a nightmare for the both of them.

Klaus was eager to avoid the ghost who had just begun wailing his name after watching him dither a few moments. Why was it - how was it - that they always knew his name? Quickly, he turned to walk down the staircase that led into the main hall - the long way round suited him just fine. 

The house was haunted by both ghosts and silence alike. Sometimes it was terrifying how silent it all was at night - it only made the ghosts louder. He hadn’t had to deal with complete silence setting into his skin since… well, since before Ben died. When it wasn’t strobe lights, music or drugs keeping the ghosts at bay Klaus used to depend on Ben to do the work for him; sometimes they would talk into the night, making Klaus look insane to the rehab centres or the people who passed him on the street late at night, but with Ben there to distract him Klaus couldn’t possibly care. Him being there, in itself, was enough to survive.

He tried not to dwell on his brother’s sacrifice too much despite knowing he would have to come to terms with it at some point. There was no use denying it, hoping that somehow Ben might come back one day and yet Klaus kept glancing around everywhere he went, hoping to see Ben sitting in some random old chair like he had never left. Just like the day Klaus arrived back in the present - hands bloodied and soul wracked and flayed to pieces. Ben had been there. Appeared suddenly in the reflection of a cracked public bathroom mirror as Klaus scrubbed at the blood until he himself was bleeding. It had been Ben who had gathered up any remnants of Klaus that remained, and put them together again. It had been Ben that urged him to return to the academy. Ben who didn’t yell at him when he stopped by his dealer on the way. His brother didn’t know anything about Dave, didn’t even ask; could tell that Klaus needed him. And he was there.

Now he wasn’t, and never would be again.

Klaus didn’t realise he had been standing, choked by his own grief, at the foot of the stairs staring out into the foyer. God, maybe he should take a leaf out of Vanya’s overly-revealing book and just spill his own guts onto paper; would be nice to make money while being cooped up here, he thought, and yet… He didn’t think he’d ever be able to share anything more personal than his favourite colour with anyone, not even Ben. Humour had become both his vice and armour, stripping that away made him far too vulnerable - he’d be a kid again. A kid locked inside a mausoleum, pleading with his father to please, please, let him out this time.

That’s when he saw it. 

The door that was usually sealed fast, checked by both Diego and Five, and padlocked once again was ajar. Creeping towards it, Klaus managed to gently push it open to see that the next door was also swinging on its hinges. Bracing cold night air caressed his skin, something he hadn’t felt since that night, and it was almost intoxicating in itself. The mansion could be so stuffy sometimes, especially when it was all you were permitted to experience.

They needed to get out of here.

That’s what he had been thinking just before that green light had surged all around him, hadn’t it? How desperate he was to leave this place, to recapture some sense of peace nestled amongst the distractions that only the lives of strangers could give to him. He craved distraction more than anything, it didn’t even have to just be chemical, anything to stop the throbbing emptiness of his life at the mansion, left only to be filled by stifling, clammy ghosts or that crushing absence of the people he had relied on most in the world.

His power, or whatever it was he had discovered, had opened these doors for him. Literally. He had to take the opportunity. 

Realising he was barefoot and clothed only in the hoodie and leggings he had been sporting for the last months, Klaus almost debated sneaking back to his room to pick something up that was more his style - part of him hated even the notion of leaving the house dressed so drably. Any one of his siblings could wake up on the trip back to his room and he couldn’t risk even the chance of being caught now - not when he was this close. This may be the final chance he got. If he couldn’t control his power again, he would never get out. More importantly the moment he told his siblings about it he wouldn’t even get another chance at escape - they would surely have him under even more surveillance; Klaus swallowed the panic in his breath as he remembered what Luther did to Vanya when he thought she couldn’t be trusted. 

One night to finally breathe again - he would be back by daybreak.

Chapter Text

Allison wanted to believe she could trust Klaus. Believe that they could all do with loosening the reins on their brother’s back for a little while. It felt wrong. She didn’t dare equate it to dad, but at times it felt almost comparable. Keeping a watchful eye on him, not allowing the freedom of privacy and movement? Maybe Vanya had been right when she’d said that each of them were as big of an asshole as dad had been; maybe he had shaped them in his image.

As much as Allison wanted to believe it, it really didn’t help that her day started with Diego pounding on her door demanding to know if Klaus was with her. He had been so uptight recently, angrier and more nervous all at once. She wondered if this had been his default, all those years she had been chasing an empty dream of defiance and not bothered to check up on her family - it certainly would explain a lot of the hostility he held for everybody at their father’s funeral. It wasn’t that Diego had been sweet and passive before, he had always been an abrasive type of person, but never towards them. Not his siblings.

“Do you know where he is?” Diego demanded of her, each word punctuated as though he were breathless. She shook her head, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. A couple of months ago she would have been horribly ashamed to have been caught still sleeping at 10am, but now it seemed natural to her. Her siblings’ presence was once again natural, like they had never left each others sides. A new normal borrowed from distant past.

“Hm, no I don’t,” she said after a moment, before stretching and shrugging a dressing gown over her shoulders, “But look it’s probably fine, have you checked the roof - the attic?”

“Yes. I’m not stupid, Allison.”

She frowned and placed a hand on her brothers shoulder, in hopes of providing some amount of comfort. He had been so tense recently. “It’s all going to work out, Di - we’ll find him. It’ll be okay.”

“But what if we don’t… what if it’s not.” Diego’s words hitched in his throat, making the urge to fling her arms around him almost irresistible. Almost. She knew him well enough to know that would not help him right now. Her brother had always had this persona, this angry vigilante type, that came out in times of peril and stress. Breaking down that wall right now, would deprive him of the persona he desperately needed to cling to.

“Worrying about it isn’t going to help anyone, Di. I’ll check all the rooms now and you go make a coffee, okay?” she said and smiled warmly, only to be met with a mirthless laugh of disgust.

“You can’t be serious? Don’t baby me, Allison. Make coffee? Is this what you did every time you had a problem, back in Hollywood?” Her brother spat the last word like poison in his mouth, “Is that why you were never there for us - for him? You were too busy making coffee and ignoring us all?”

Shooting her a cruel glance, he turned her back on her standing alone and exhausted in the door frame, and slunk down the hallway as quickly as he’d come.

“Di? Diego!?” she called after him, but to no avail. Christ, nothing in the family could ever be simple. Grinding her teeth she stood there a moment, wondering if what Diego had said was really true. While it was true enough that she had not been around as much as she should have been, that had been the job. She had to be away a lot. Right? 

God, she had never really been much of a morning person, anyway.

Then there was the situation of the stranger on their couch.

Allison went to call Diego back and demand the meaning of this, in addition to whatever was going on with Klaus, but the words slipped away unspoken and left in the wake of Diego’s disappearance. 

The stranger’s back was turned and seemed to be in amiable conversation with Vanya, who look almost as baffled as Allison felt. At least that suggested she hadn’t randomly missed any major events. Allison raised her eyebrows in Vanya’s direction who just shrugged quietly in response. Their unspoken conversation seemed to alert the stranger to Allison’s presence, and turned to face her. 

She was pretty, ginger and freckled; her brown eyes twinkled kindly as she spun round to face Allison. If she had to guess she’d place the stranger at around her own age.

“You must be Allison,” she said in a distinctly Irish lilt, “I’m Gráinne - I was just telling Vanya that I had written you all a letter, maybe a couple of months ago, but that clearly never arrived…” Gráinne turned back to Vanya for confirmation, who shook her head apologetically. “Ah, no matter - I’m here now, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

A calloused hand was offered, which Allison shook out of politeness, despite still being very much confused about the stranger’s - Gráinne’s - presence. Was she supposed to know this person?

Gráinne’s eyes widened after releasing Allison’s hand and laughed nervously. “Oh, God, right, yeah. I had this all planned out but that relied on you getting my letter… since you didn’t get it, I guess I should, um, explain now.”

It was almost as though Gráinne had read her mind because Allison very much did want to know what brought Gráinne across the ocean, just to see them. She had enough experience with fans to know that it wasn’t that; besides the fame the academy had once held was something of the past. These days, barely anyone remembered them besides as characters in children’s comics. The world had seemed to have forgotten that those characters had once been living breathing people - children. 

In any case, Gráinne seemed flustered but not in the way people became when they wanted an autograph - this went deeper than that. 

“Go on.” Allison said, almost inaudible.

“I’m one of you.”

“What” both Allison and Vanya said in hushed unison, before looking to each other in bewilderment - each confirming they had heard her correctly.

“I’m one of you. Like, I have powers.”

“But you’re not- you’re?”

“Related to you? A member of The Umbrella Academy? No, I wouldn’t think so…” She hesitated a moment looking abashed at their stricken faces before continuing, “My brother and I were born on October 1st, 1989 - same as you. Your dad tried to buy us too but our parents, well, they had never been able to have their own kids so for them it was really more of a miracle than anything else.” 

Allison’s jaw tightened. At birth, Gráinne had been in the exact same position as her and her siblings, and yet her parents had chosen to keep her. Had loved her and given her a home.  As a kid Allison used to imagine what it would have been like, having parents of her own who loved her and braided her hair and consoled her when she cried or made a mistake. Gráinne had all of that. To Allison it seemed unfair that Gráinne was just sitting here, beaming sheepishly at them after everything she and her siblings had endured from their years here.

It seemed Vanya had an entirely different train of thought.

“So what-” she said slowly, as though still wrapping her mind around her question, “You and your brother- you must be twins?”

“Yeah. Yeah we were.”

“Wow.” Vanya said, simply. 

“So… “ Allison said, folding her arms. Logically, she knew that it was in no way Gráinne’s fault that she’d been gifted with a reality Allison only ever dreamed about, and yet she couldn’t help but feel contempt for her. She had just barged in on them in the midst of family healing, and showed them all what they may have all had - in another life. “What’s your power?

“Mindreading. Or at least something of that nature.”

Instinctively, Allison’s hands flew to her head as though that would protect her from any attempt at intrusion on Gráinne’s part. Oh, god, did she know how much hatred Allison had just unleashed upon her?

Gráinne laughed, which Allison found to be quite unpleasant. It felt as though she were being mocked. “Don’t worry,” Gráinne said, “I’m not that good. I’ve got to make physical contact for it to work.”

Almost deflating in relief Allison nearly cracked a smile until… The handshake. Gráinne’s instant response to her internal question.

“So when you shook my hand…” Allison said carefully.

“Mhm,” Gráinne said, eyes suddenly determinedly fixed on her scuffed shoes, “I try not to do it, but sometimes bits and pieces jump out of someone’s head into my own - it’s a bit unpredictable, sorry.” 

Allison lapsed into silence, not daring enough to ask what Gráinne had accidentally extracted from her mind. A tension fell over the room, instilling it with the same sense of discomfort her and her siblings had shared at mealtimes, while listening to some philosopher or physicist drone on as their father ascertained that nobody stepped a toe out of line.

“Vanya, are you ready we have to-” Five blinked in already dominating it with his presence. For somebody stuck in the body of a child, it was almost frightening how easily he commanded a room. “Okay,” he said, pausing for a moment to take in Gráinne, “So what’s going on now?”

Her brother’s nonchalance to any and every surprise was always weirdly refreshing. Nothing seemed to faze him. Strangely enough he had always been like that, and it wasn’t just a development after becoming a time-travelling assassin. Their family was insane.

“Dad kept yet another secret from us.” Allison said, more curtly than she had planned to. “She,” she pointed ungraciously in Gráinne’s direction, “Could have been one of us.”

“Huh, well that certainly is not what I expected when I woke up this morning.” Gráinne shifted, suddenly looking like a child alone at a birthday party. “Not bad, just… odd.” Five clarified, aiming for his most agreeable facial expression. “Anyway… we really must be off - Vanya and I have training scheduled. You’ll be spending the night, I assume?” Five was already moving toward Vanya and grabbing her hand.

Staring at him blank-faced, Gráinne cleared her throat.

“I had hoped that maybe- if it’s not too much trouble-” 

“We have room. Allison can help you get settled.” Allison stiffened and opened her mouth to protest, but Five and Vanya were already gone in a flash of blue. 

Flinching from the sudden light, Gráinne then turned to Allison chuckling anxiously. “I forgot he could do that.”

“You get used to it.”

Helping Gráinne get situated into one of the academy’s spare rooms was not something Allison had anticipated of her day, and the unease that fell between them hung like thick, choking smog. Allison’s mind couldn’t stop going back to the way Gráinne’s power intruded on her mind, something she always preferred to keep guarded from sight. She was good at it too, tucking everything away until even her own siblings believed she had everything consistently under control. Gráinne unsettled her. She had the power to strip all of that away with one touch. Instinctively, Allison flinched away every time Gráinne came too close; she knew Gráinne could tell what she was doing, yet she didn’t mention it once - she just kept quiet and helped Allison carry the necessities to her room. 

“You know I can usually control it,” Gráinne said suddenly, as Allison was pulling the bed sheet over the dust-covered mattress, “My power. Just sometimes - especially with new people - I get a little curious. It’s wrong and I’m sorry- I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable.”

Allison thought about that for a moment. A younger version of herself might have yelled at this point, might have told Gráinne that she should have known better than to pry without permission. But that version of herself was a hypocrite. As if Gráinne looking into her mind for a brief moment was in anyway comparable to the manipulation she herself had waged upon people since her father had first discovered her powers.

She cleared her throat. “It’s okay. I get it.” Allison tucked the final corner under the mattress and sat down on it, hands in her lap, “What did you even see in there anyway?” It was a question a large part of her didn’t want answered - she dreaded what Gráinne may have learned about her, even from just a second of contact.

“Well…” Gráinne said, “It doesn’t really work quite like that. It’s more like… like emotions I guess? Whatever somebody is feeling at the time, rather than specific sentences or strings of words? So from you it was mostly just confusion - that’s how I realised I hadn’t introduced myself, you know?” Allison looked up at Gráinne in surprise; compared to what she’d expected Gráinne to say, that had been very anti-climatic. Gráinne seemed put off by Allison’s lack of response, as her eyes dropped back to the ground. “It’s a pretty shit power, to be honest… My parents always said they were grateful, though, that it wasn’t anything more sinister…”

Allison laughed aloud in spite of herself.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing, sorry, of course you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what…?” Gráinne’s voice hitched slightly, unsure of herself once again.

“It’s just that always how it seems at first, you know? Weird but mostly unremarkable. I guess, without some sadistic father figure breathing down our necks maybe the rest of our powers wouldn’t have developed that far either.” Moving swiftly past Gráinne’s stifled open-mouthed expression, because she was not willing to indulge another but-you-seemed-so-happy-as-kids! conversation, Allison thought back to her and her siblings’ childhoods with as much fondness as she could muster. “Yeah, like for example Five just kept getting into weird places all the time - the time travel didn’t come until much later, Luther…” she smiled, reflexively at the memory, “Luther literally just seemed to be on a mission to destroy as much cutlery as was possible for a baby, and me? I guess I just was just a really persuasive crier.”

“Forgive me, sorry but which one is Luther again? It’s been a while I-”

“One.” Allison grimaced, that was something she easily forgot after having her chosen name surpass her number in the fame and acclaim that it held. She was the outlier. The rest of her family were known to the world only by number or codename, nothing deeper.

“Kind of weird that you were all given numbers for names, don’t you think?” 

It would have been easy to hate Gráinne. Her probing questions that were, in all honesty, far more invasive than her powers were, kept flying out of nowhere. The enthusiasm she harboured for the comic books that Allison loathed so much that the whole situation seemed like a new personal torture technique, left her reeling. But there was something about Gráinne that she’d warmed to. Something within her that made Allison think that maybe she wasn’t as different from her and her siblings as she’d initially thought. 

Besides, she’d come all this way. The least Allison could do was be hospitable.

“Oh, you haven’t even heard the start of it.”

Allison talked and talked about the insanity of their lives at the academy in a way that was so freeing, she felt physically lighter with every passing minute she sat cross-legged on Gráinne’s not-quite-made bed. 

“You really have a talking monkey?” Gráinne iterated again, in complete disbelief.

“Well, yes, technically” Allison laughed, “But please don’t call him that - Pogo was more of a father to us than our real dad.”

“Yikes.”

That was something Allison came to quickly appreciate about this strange newcomer. Whatever Allison said about her past, whatever jokes she made, Gráinne was never pitying. For all her naive nosiness, she never had that false, uncomfortable compassion plastered onto her face. She laughed at Allison’s jokes about all the shit that had happened to her in her past and that, in its own way, was truly a solace. Allison felt she could talk to Gráinne, unburdened with the social etiquette of repression.

“Hey, thanks for not being weird about all this. Most people are.”

“Oh. Yeah, I mean I get that - I hate all that pity shit, it just makes it so much worse…”

Gráinne was holding something back, Allison knew that, but she wasn’t about to pry. She’d been dancing around her own life this whole time, constantly diverting the conversation back to Allison. They’d barely met two hours ago and yet somehow she’d already caught her up to speed on the reality of their childhood - not the smiling comic faces the media had painted upon them. That must have been a world record or something, she was sure.

“Allison, who the fuck is this?” Whipping around, Allison locked eyes with Diego’s cold eyes in the doorway. “You said you’d help me look for him.”

Oh, shit. Klaus.

“Who?” Gráinne said, who was suddenly flushed pink.

Ignoring her, Allison moved across the room to where her brother was standing. “Can we talk about this outside, please?” She mouthed her temporary farewell at Gráinne, who had somehow reverted to all the shyness of a schoolchild, and shut the door.

“So?” Diego snapped, the moment Gráinne was out of earshot.

“I know I promised. I’ll look now - it’ll only take a couple of minutes, I swear”

“Too late.” he said, grinding his jaw, “I’ve checked every room again by myself.”

“Di, I’m sorry there were some unexpected circumstances I had to-”

“It’s always something, Allison! I don’t care if there’s a sudden press conference in Rotterdam or you have to chat to some friend in one of our spare rooms. We’re family… we- we can’t do that to each other. I can’t be the only one trying to keep one of our siblings safe. Not anymore.”

In retrospect, maybe he was right. It was true that, ever since she’d left the academy, Klaus had really only ever equated to a scrawled signature on a cheque. Ever since she’d made any kind of name for herself. But she would never readily admit that to Diego - especially not when he was this worked up. It was always “Miss Hargreeves your brother is requesting you pay for your other brother’s rehabilitation again-” or “Miss Hargreeves, hospital bill for-” It happened enough that Allison didn’t even stop to think about it. Her PA usually hadn’t gotten to end of her sentence before Allison was signing, mascara wand in the other hand. A quick scribble of her name and it was done. She moved on.

Now, though? After the countless times Klaus had now - recently - proved to her his unwavering affection and loyalty, maybe it really was her fault that she kept letting it slide. That she wasn’t there enough for him - for any of them, really.

“Di, I’m sorry. I really am. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, but you don’t have to keep him swaddled up like he’s made of glass. He’s so much more capable than you give him credit for.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her brother’s lip began to tremble, and her heart called out to him, although she knew he’d never hear it, “You don’t know anything, you- you- you don’t get to tell me what’s best. You weren’t there. Nobody was there.”

Allison strained against the saltwater that pushed at her eyes like a gathering storm. He was right, of course. Allison herself had actually only seen Klaus three times when he was at his worst. Once at her wedding, as well as after his first and second overdose, but Diego? Diego had been there through all of it. As close as Klaus and Diego were, Allison couldn’t imagine that could have been easy for him. For either of them.

“You’re an amazing brother, Di, never doubt that… But you don’t have to stop holding yourself accountable for everything Klaus does and all the mistakes he makes. It’s not healthy for either of you. Keeping him locked up here has got to be miserable, Di, it’s not-”

She hadn’t gotten to the end of her sentence before she knew it was a mistake.

Diego visibly stiffened. Allison tensed. She had gone too far too quickly; it was always something she’d struggled with - even as a little kid - the knowledge of when to stop talking and let it go. As much as she believed what she had just said to him, she couldn’t help but realise that she had completely contradicted his entire approach. 

“You know what, fuck this.” Diego shoved past her, and started raging towards the main entrance. Only this time, Allison let him go.

Chapter Text

Diego prowled the streets like an animal in a cage - restless and afraid - each dead end the bars of his cage. He checked all of Klaus’ usual haunts. Nothing. Back when he’d just left the academy, and he’d ran into Klaus one day completely out of it on a street corner, he’d kept meticulous notes on each dealer he was aware of and their locations. Tried to keep the safe ones out of prison while he had still been at the police academy. Now, though, with everything having changed so much and so quickly Diego had no idea where to turn. He was helpless and it terrified him.

He couldn’t imagine anywhere that Klaus could possibly be. With every nightclub scoured for clues, every alley shredded in his pursuit for evidence Diego had no ideas left in him. It was drawing upon lunchtime now and he was beginning to lose hope. 

Blind recklessness may have seemed like a flaw to most but Diego often considered it his greatest strength. It meant he didn’t have to think - didn’t have to have hope in the first place because there simply wasn’t time for it. Action followed by more action. Sure, maybe it got him into trouble sometimes, but it kept his mind at ease while he bruised and battered the criminals he encountered.

This was different though. 

With Klaus he always had to think. Adrenaline alone was never enough, he had to put his training from his father and the police academy into practice and he hated it. Thought allowed room for doubt which quickly snowballed into panic. Especially where his family was concerned.

He couldn’t help being angry at Allison. Klaus and Allison had been close as kids. He couldn’t begin to understand what had changed, how she could be so apathetic to the very real threat to their brother’s safety. She had been happy to shrug it all off, distance herself from everything the way she had done while she was a big hotshot celebrity. It just wouldn’t cut it anymore, Diego was determined to turn their family into a unit, even if it was the last thing he did. 

They had grown up pitted against each other while also being expected to work as a team - especially him and Luther. Shamefully, it wasn’t until recently that he understood his conflict with Luther had just been another one of his father’s sick manipulative techniques. Number One and Two head to head in everything they did, so they’d never see the real villain pulling the strings all along.

It was much too warm for the fully black-clad outfit Diego was wearing, but with the heat of his rage he barely noticed it. Teeth gritted like vices, Diego stopped at a wall and punched. There was a small gasp from somewhere behind him, but he didn’t care what any New York passerby saw him do. They’d almost certainly seen worse than a man at the end of the road, knuckles bleeding as he processed everything in the only way he knew how. Punching shit.

The therapist Eudora made him see a while ago had once told him that he took on the responsibility of punishing others to remedy the fact he couldn’t control the events in his own childhood and he had stormed out of the office and refused to go back. In hindsight, he knew that she had probably not been entirely wrong but he hated it. He hated that he did want to hurt his father in the same way he had hurt him - hurt all of them and yet he had never been able to. And now he was dead and Diego was still angry.

He regulated his breathing the way Eudora had always coached him to when things felt too hopeless, and when his fists took the blows of that very same hopelessness; he took several steps back from the wall and realised where he was.

In daylight, Griddy’s looked almost the same as it used to. Back when they had been kids, sneaking out in the night for donuts (and, weirdly, coffee in Five’s case) and doubling over in laughter as Klaus predictably choked on the four donuts he had managed to shove into his mouth at once. 

At one stage, Allison convinced Luther to come with them on their early morning family donut outings. He didn’t usually come. Something about it ‘being dishonest’ and ‘being too tired for training tomorrow’. But Allison had pestered him, for years, and finally he gave in. They were twelve at the time and Diego was furious; he hated the way all of his siblings went above and beyond to make Luther feel welcomed. Couldn’t help the piercing jealousy that now even this couldn’t be rid of Luther and everything he represented - perfect little Number One, with his stupid muscles and antagonising brilliance. 

Diego refused to go after that. When they all tiptoed into his room at 2am, grinning like idiots, Diego could still taste the words that had shot out of his mouth like gunpowder: “No. Not as long as he’s coming”. Luther’s eyes widened in hurt and shock, which a younger Diego had resented - determined to believe that it was all facade. That his brother was his enemy. 

He remembered Luther telling everyone he didn’t have to go, but Allison had insisted - it’s not your fault Two’s a stubborn ass, One. 

Diego didn’t know what had happened that night at Griddy’s while he lay awake, anger clawing at his chest, but he did know they never went again. Then Five disappeared and the mansion grew colder and quieter than ever before.

His knuckles and the wall’s surface were reddened with a layer of quickly drying blood, breathing heavily with adrenaline-fueled residual anger. This may just have been the only place they had ever been a family. A real one, without any of that crime-fighting bullshit. With only the lamplights watching them, they were, for a few fleeting hours, free. And he had ruined it all.

The futility that washed over him was as chilling as it was calm. Almost in a daze, Diego walked to the store’s entrance to see a small card in the window. 

Attention Customers

I have made the decision to close my business.
Life is sweet. I don’t want to miss out.

Agnes

Agnes. The woman he had met that night the donut shop had been gunned down; she had been a kind to him in a way that had strongly resembled his own mother. They shared the tedium of working the same job. Day in and day out serving donuts or living eternity as a mother in the employment of a man who exploited her at every turn. He was happy for them, they had both seemed to have left that behind. 

But what about him? His inability to let things go, to allow nature to run its course and trust in the abilities of other people, that was something that had followed him - a phantom ball and chain - his whole life. He remembered the thundering of his feet and he sprinted across Dealey Plaza, nothing but the sound of blood in his ears, as the president was shot. It was the same now. An unshakable sense of failure. 

Everything he did for Klaus would never be enough. It was never enough. He was doomed to keep failing, over and over and over again.

Allison’s words came back to him now as a haunting encore. Keeping him locked up here has got to be miserable, Di. Was he doing it again? Ruining everything, punishing those who didn’t need to be punished? Because, as the empty donut shop loomed over him, Diego realised that keeping Klaus locked up and isolated was selfish. Not allowing his brother any freedom was protecting Diego more than it was Klaus. Selfish, stupid Diego had once again fucked everything up, because he had thought that it was his place to arrange his family like puppets in a desperate, terrified grab at control. 

Fingertips yearning to push that glass door open; to open it onto his siblings - eleven again and grinning haphazardly - welcoming him to join them with warm arms. Luther would be there too, an apology - only twenty years late. He knew it was impossible. Those days were long gone, and this paper - this damned beautiful paper in the window - served only as proof.

This was exactly why Diego preferred not to get into his own head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had truly dwelled on his childhood, not to this extent. But there was evidently a lot that had been left unhealed, still weeping its blood in Diego’s wake all these years. 

He drew a shuddering breath, composing himself. Allison was right and he was nearly certain the rest of his siblings agreed; he could sense it in Five’s narrowed eyes, Luther searching glances and Vanya’s sad eyes. Trust Allison to be the only one to have the guts to say what they had all been thinking… for months. What he was inflicting on his brother was a different kind of torment, akin to something his father would devise. Bile rose in his throat. 

He was just like dad.

If - when - he found Klaus he would apologise. That was the best he could think to do. Apologise for all of it - the restriction, the anger and the isolation, for all the times he had considered his feelings and fears above Klaus’ autonomy. ‘Sorry’, he would say, and that, he hoped, would be a start.

The lights in Griddy’s were entirely extinguished, sapping the shop from any of the energy it once held and the freedom it represented. It was a shadowy reminder of all he had lost and all he had thrown away. Daylight streamed in through the open windows; the world kept moving, unaware anything had changed.

And, through the furthest window, was his missing brother.

Head down on the table in the darkened restaurant was the unmistakable outline of Diego’s brother, his hair splaying out across the surface of the table. 

Cursing himself for not spotting him sooner, Diego barged his way through the unlocked doors and charged at him before stopping. This was how he had confronted Klaus a million times before, and it did nothing. He slowed his pace, and sat carefully opposite his brother in the booth. Though he couldn’t see his face, the gentle rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was just sleeping - he deserved that much.

Waking him seemed cruel so Diego waited. He didn’t really mind, he’d spent longer in silence and with only himself for company. On stakeouts. Or in the tank… Diego shuddered. That was one memory he would much rather completely forget about. He didn’t even care, he came to realise quickly, about the people on the street passing by, giving them both strange glances before hurrying on. 

Diego thought about what he could say to Klaus that could make him understand what he had been trying to achieve, to express how truly sorry he was. He had never been much of a words person, more of a break-that-and-think-later person. That probably wouldn’t work this time. 

He was sat there barely an hour before Klaus stirred. Klaus gasped and jerked back immediately after laying eyes on Diego, causing Diego to flinch - he hadn’t suspected anything so sudden from him. 

“You okay?” 

“Sorry, Di,” Klaus said breathlessly, “usually the random figures across the table from me aren’t, you know… Alive. Or friendly.”

“What about Ben?”

Klaus glanced away, looking out into the street. “What brings you here, then?” he said, chipper as ever. 

“I was looking for you.” An insult was missing from the end of that sentence and Diego could feel it, but he felt maybe now was the one and only time leaving it off would be recommended.

“Looking for…?” Klaus’ brow furrowed, before his eyes widened, “Oh shit, yeah. I was supposed to… ah. Sorry, Diego.”

That was twice now that Klaus had apologised. To him. Teeth gritted, Diego could feel the blood in his temple pounding - this wasn’t his territory, it never had been. Klaus was always so good at admitting when he was wrong, at expressing such a frighteningly large spectrum of emotion where Diego was more a human embodiment of a grunt. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Diego said but wouldn’t meet his brother’s apologetic eyes, “I actually wanted to say something.”

Quiet. Klaus was waiting for him to speak on a rare occasion he would have much rather have been subjected tho his brother’s trademark ramblings, but he was still and plaintive. Giving him time.

Diego’s stomach flipped and churned. This shouldn’t be as hard as it was; he was sure of his feelings for once in his life the words had hit his lips and stuck.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“For everything, man. I reacted shittily and I- I’m sorry. That’s it, I guess. In summary.” 

Klaus actually laughed out loud. “Wow, you really are bad at that. Truly terrible execution, but I get what you mean,” he grabbed Diego by the shoulders and looked earnestly into his eyes, “and I forgive you - you did what you had to do.”

“What? No.” Diego pulled away and Klaus’ face dropped, looking confused and hurt. But Diego pushed on, Klaus shouldn’t be able to write it all off that easily - surely he was at least a little angry? “That’s the point I didn’t have to do that - any of that. It was messed up.” 

“No offense or anything but yeah, you did have to do all of that. I would have gone out and bought more drugs the next day if you hadn’t done anything.” Diego clenched his teeth - he was angry now. Not at Klaus but at dad - because he was sure it would have been him. He was sure he would have been the one to make Klaus feel like being locked away and restricted was the only way - that he somehow deserved that shit. As much as it hurt him. 

“Di?”

He suppressed his rage -  he couldn’t say all of that now, besides he had also been fucked over by dad repeatedly and there were definitely parts of him that still existed that stemmed from their father. It would be hypocritical.

Letting out a long sigh, Diego finally spoke.

“I’m not saying you can’t forgive me, but that doesn’t mean I think what I did is right. I think I was out of line and I will spend every day trying to make that up to you. Got it?” Klaus opened his mouth to respond, but Diego cut him off, “Shut up, I am not taking responses.” 

Klaus looked back out the window, his eyes suddenly shinier than usual. 

“Got it.” 

Chapter Text

“So. Why Griddy’s?” Diego said on the walk back.

Klaus shuffled their feet against the concrete; Diego was being so nice to them and ruining that was not an option. “You know how we used to come here as kids?”

Diego nodded curtly. Both of them remembered all too well how that had ended.

“I never actually stopped coming here, you know. Even after I left the mansion I couldn’t bring myself to let this place go… I don’t know- We were happy here, I think? For a little bit.” They kicked a stone down the street, watching it clatter to a halt amidst oncoming traffic.

Hands stuffed into his pockets, Diego was staring straight ahead - Klaus couldn’t help but think he was deliberately not making eye contact. 

Their brother cleared his throat sharply. “I think I ruined that for all of you.”

“How so?”

“I was such an ass to Luther when- I don’t think it was really ever about him.” Diego swallowed, finally turning to look at Klaus who grinned at him. Klaus had known for years that Diego never really hated Luther - just had hated what Dad had made him out to be. Some role-model superhero - always favoured and always chosen first.

“Yeah, no shit Di.” Diego looked almost offended, “Look man,” Klaus tried as tactfully as they could manage, “We kinda always knew that the big one-two rivalry was Dad’s fault. That man was a manipulative prick - he definitely did it on purpose…” Diego grunted in agreement. “I don’t think Luther knows that you don’t hate him though - you know he’s the reason we stopped going to Griddy’s? He said something about not wanting to get in the way of something that you liked doing. Ally did not like that,” Klaus laughed, remembering how Allison had yelled at Luther to stop being a pushover. They think someone may have started throwing donuts. It might have been them. “Shit went down and that was that. Another tragic tale in our tragic repertoire.”

Klaus could tell their brother was cycling through guilt again - which had absolutely not been the intention - so they nudged him playfully in the ribs with a bony elbow. “Hey, Di, nobody is going to hold that against you okay? You were a little kid and we all did stupid shit as kids. Look at me! A shining example of a lifetime of shitty choices.” They made a display of something that could be classed as a brave new interpretation of jazz hands, and were delighted when they saw Diego crack a sliver of a smile.

-

“You were missing? Again?” Five huffed, incredulous, as Diego and himself reentered the mansion. Ally, Vanya and someone Klaus was maybe about 90% sure he didn’t recognise were sat huddled on the couch - Allison grimacing slightly at the abrasion in Five’s voice. Five’s eyes narrowed at the ground for a moment. “You okay?” he said, quieter, after a brief pause.

Klaus nodded, still preoccupied trying to place the stranger the rest of his family seemed to not be acknowledging. “Yeah, well, somebody has to keep you lot on your toes. Think of it as training for whatever next apocalypse we’ve got to put a stop to.” Nobody laughed, but Five afforded him a small terse nod before disappearing into blue light. Klaus smiled; Five was really warming up.

“Okay… I’ll bite,” Klaus said, eyes still fixed on the stranger, “Who are you?” Glances were exchanged between his siblings, from Ally to Vanya to Diego to the stranger, as Klaus watched with a mild apprehension. 

“I’m Gráinne. Nice to meet you…”

“Klaus.”

“Klaus.” She nodded seriously, committing the name to memory. “Sorry, I only really knew you by your numbers.” 

Unease swam in his stomach - he’d changed a lot from the kid that had been in the public eye which meant he wasn’t often recognised, but it did happen. Every time someone called him Four something ugly and hidden lurched in his gut. Really ruined the whole concept of numbers for him, in all honesty. “Ah, right. Cool.”

He felt Diego edge closer to him, a brotherly show of support Klaus was actually incredibly grateful of. 

“So are you Ally- Allison’s friend?”

“Oh. Oh no- well- no that’s not why I’m here no... I’m one of you.” Gráinne gave a tense smile, but Klaus barely saw it before he was searching his sibling’s faces for any sign of a joke, but they were earnest. Reeling in his momentary panic, Klaus mustered a smile in return. This was a lot to take in but that didn’t mean he had to lose his sparkle.

“So what? You’re number eight?”

“Nine.” Diego interrupted. All the eyes in the room turned to him, with the same furrowed brow. “Lila’s eight.” He said plainly, shrugging. Diego was still thinking about her then, Klaus realised. He wondered if Diego would ever tell him what had gone on between them back in the past, but knowing his brother he didn’t exactly hold out too much hope on that front.

After a somewhat strained silence, Vanya broke it. “How many of us are there? If there’s nine, who’s to say there’s not more?”

“Ten,” Gráinne said quietly, “At least ten. I had a brother - a twin. So ten.” Klaus’ heart lurched in understanding, picking up on the past tense. He knew what she was doing; he’d been doing the exact same thing lately. When referring to Ben. His siblings didn’t seem to really have picked up on it and that was largely for the best. Ben was not a conversation topic he was particularly keen to dwell on.

“Crazy…” Diego whispered - his brain truly looking as though it had melted to the inside of his scalp. The revelation barely surprised Klaus at this point, their father had kept so much from them and Lila was just proof of that. There could be hundreds of other kids out there like them. Besides, this revelation was hardly the craziest thing to have happened to Klaus this past 24 hours.

“Well!” Klaus clapped his hands, shaking the tension from his body and hopefully out of the room. “Donuts, anyone?” 

“Donuts?” Allison laughed. Klaus nodded emphatically. “Yeah… yeah okay, why not.” 

Klaus cheered enough for all of them. Diego was frozen in place, looking as though he’d been struck with a hammer; Klaus winked at him.

“Never too late for new memories, right Di?” He was delighted to see his brother smile.

-

Soon enough their whole family and Gráinne were seated at the counter of an abandoned Griddy’s. Luther was more than open to the idea, and even Five had been quick to agree. Sure, they probably shouldn’t be in here but there were still stale donuts left over and Klaus knew Agnes well enough to know she would want them to be eaten.

“Oh, god,” came Ally’s voice from the end of the counter, “This tastes like shit - how long has this place been closed for?” From behind her Klaus watched Luther slowly spit the donut he had, until mere moments ago, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. 

In solidarity, Klaus took large bites from three separate donuts, staring Allison dead in eyes. She was right, it was horrible. “It’s an acquired taste, Ally,” they said through a full mouth, “I wouldn’t expect a commoner like you to possibly understand.”

Beside him Diego, who had - maybe wisely, maybe boringly, opted to not eat any of their smorgasbord - snorted into his chest.

“Yeah, well this commoner has money and would like to buy you all dinner later to make up for Klaus’ horrible choice of restaurant.”

“That’s cold, Allison.” Klaus said clutching a hand to his chest in mock hurt.

“You know… that’s not a terrible idea.” Vanya piped up, pausing her prodding of the rock that had been placed in front of her. 

“Seconded. This is a shithole.” Five said, with merciless conviction.

“I hate all of you.” Klaus pouted, but was already climbing out of the chair and heading towards the door. “Well, you guys coming or what?” 

As their family huddled around Allison outside Griddy’s, looking up nearby restaurants in the area on her phone, Klaus stepped away from the group. Leaning up against the glass they looked out onto the busy street, against a slowly darkening sky. To think that about 12 hours ago they’d just escaped the home and family they had felt suffocated by, with powers they had newly discovered they had and now they were laughing and joking with the exact same group of people. The passage of time was truly crazy, Klaus thought as they shoved their hands into their pockets - only to be met with a strange rustling. Klaus pulled out a crumpled envelope. A letter?

To the Hargreeves, the envelope read. From Gráinne Walsh. Whoops.

“Holy, shit, that’s my letter?” a voice came from behind them. Klaus jumped. “Fuck, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Turning to meet the gaze of the very same Gráinne Walsh, smiling sheepishly at them, Klaus shook their head apologetically.

“No, don’t worry about it… Was just thinking… But yeah, I guess I’ve had this for a while now, sorry.” Klaus turned the envelope over in their hands, looking from the person to the name, “Huh, I was pronouncing your name like ‘grain’ in my head.”   

“You… you didn’t even open it?” Gráinne said, face falling, ignoring Klaus’ attempt at connecting.

“Uh, no… guess I didn’t, I was-” Klaus hesitated. In all their years, they’d never actually come face to face with someone they wasn’t sure if they knew about some of the less savoury details of their life. Most people they knew, who weren’t family, were from a similar world to them - didn’t need a ‘oh, by the way, sometimes I do stupid amounts of drugs and forget to do things like open letters’. “I wasn’t quite myself when I- when I found the letter.” Klaus finished, hoping that would suffice. 

Something passed over Gráinne’s face, something Klaus wasn’t particularly sure they liked. “I read Vanya’s book.” She said plainly. Oh. Well, that was one way to find out she already knew a lot more about their life than maybe they’d prefer.

“Yeah,” Klaus gritted their teeth, “I wouldn’t trust everything in there.” Klaus hadn’t even realised that they were angry about some of the things Vanya had implied about them in that book, about all of them. They’d always kept their distance from the words she had written - knowing only too well the kind of hurt that would have prompted it. It didn’t bother them - or at least they had thought it didn’t.

This conversation would not be going in the history books as one of Klaus’ best. Gráinne shifted beside them, uncomfortably.

“Hey, well anyway, don’t worry about the letter - there’s nothing new in there, and it all worked out. Your family is great.” Klaus appreciated the topic change, as they looked over to where the family in question were bunched around a phone, squabbling. 

A past incarnation of themself would have scoffed at their family being described as any positive adjective, let alone ‘great’. But now, as they watched Diego passionately exclaim something indistinguishable, followed by a round of laughter from the group, Klaus couldn’t help but nod. Their eyes softened, as they smiled. “They are pretty great, yeah.”

Klaus smiled at Gráinne, finally genuine and with their trademark twinkle. 

“Hey, let’s head back before Diego throws a knife at someone.” They laughed and placed a gentle hand on Gráinne’s arm, as they went to move back towards their family. Gráinne’s face, which had returned their smile only a second before, suddenly shifted to something entirely opposite. She recoiled back from Klaus’ touch, chest heaving. 

Drawing their hand back, Klaus’ chest tightened. “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No.” Gráinne said, regaining her composure as quickly as she had lost it, “No… It wasn’t. No, you’re fine. Sorry. Don’t worry about it.” 

Klaus swallowed, actually very worried about it, but they nodded. 

“Hey you guys okay with takeout? We can’t seem to decide on a place.” Allison yelled over at them suddenly, causing Klaus to jerk back to attention. They nodded at their family, eyes still wide and guilty, hoping they couldn’t see how shaken they were.

-

He was on edge the rest of the evening. Honestly, he wasn’t even entirely sure why. Something about Gráinne’s reaction gave him a bad feeling, injecting him with nervous energy, like it was personal somehow. He had to talk to her, again. If only to apologise again.

Klaus was watching Gráinne all through dinner, and the whole time they played Uno, practically bouncing off the walls with nerves. He was sure that if he’d been paying attention, he might have even won. Instead that victory went to Luther, who Klaus was more than happy to resign that success to - his brother had never actually won a game before and he seemed to be enjoying the change of pace.

At 10pm, Mom came in to usher them to bed. She clearly still operated on the assumption that they were still kids - kids with early bedtimes. It was fine by him. Secretly he had always kind of liked the coddling. This time though, Klaus hung back a moment, desperate to talk to Gráinne; he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done to make her react in the way she did and he was desperate to understand. He’d never really been good at people holding anything against him.

Gráinne and Allison were already walking off towards the bedrooms, in fervent discussion about something Klaus wasn’t close enough to hear. Ally’s room was before the guest room, if he was able to catch her before then he could-

“Hey man,” A hand landed on Klaus’ shoulder and he span round to greet it. Diego. His brother’s eyes were gentle, softly creased and smiling. “Thank you for today, I- You were right about Luther too… I- You didn’t have to do that after how I treated you.” 

Klaus took Diego by the arms, very aware that Gráinne was leaving with Allison behind him, “Di, it’s okay. You just got a free pearl of wisdom from my own personal oyster; it’ll cost you next time, though. Inflation…” Klaus cast a glance towards the now empty corridor, trailing off “Really kicking my ass, you know?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” Diego said, puzzled but with the same fond look he reserved for Klaus alone. “Well, goodnight Klaus.”

“Night, Di. Sweet dreams!” 

Skittering down the halls, Klaus was relieved to find Gráinne had stopped at Allison’s door. He hesitated for a moment beside them, catching Allison’s eye.

“You want something?”

“Hm? Well, yeah actually… Gráinne could I just- could I just talk to you for a second?” Gráinne’s face was completely blank, unreadable. Everything okay? he watched Allison mouth behind her. Klaus just nodded.

“Yeah okay.” Gráinne said, nodding as though trying to convince herself. Allison’s eyes darted between the pair of them before smiling and wishing them both goodnight, shutting her bedroom door with a soft click. They were alone.

Gráinne waited, watching him with a quiet intensity. All at once, Klaus suddenly felt the way he used to in training; when dad said ‘disarm’, ‘elbow’, ‘gouge’ and his mind had gone blank with adrenaline.

“Um,” Klaus said, the phlegm in his throat coming loose, “We could go to my room?” 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d invited her here, as he sat on his bed watching her linger by the door, refusing to fully enter the room she’d been invited into. Patting the space on the bed beside him gently, she came and sat - straight-backed and stiff - next to him, eyes fixed on his walls. The walls with the words, the repeated phrases and lines that Five had not too long ago also found far too interesting. When he’d written them he hadn’t really thought too much about how revealing they really were - didn’t care, probably - but now he wanted nothing more than to cover it all. Cement over that chapter in his past.

Unlike Five, however, Gráinne was just staring blankly at them. He couldn’t even be sure she was actually reading them. He cleared his throat. This was the part he was supposed to talk, to say something to articulate the millions of apprehensions he held in his mind, but none of it wanted to come. Like every word in his vocabulary (which he’d like to think was quite extensive) had decided to evade him completely. Shit, he should’ve really thought about this beforehand.

“Are we okay?” Klaus said and Gráinne’s eyebrows furrowed, “Like, about earlier…”

“Oh my god, no I’m so sorry about that,” she buried her face in her hands, “I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong - it’s not you it’s me.”

Klaus snorted and Gráinne looked up alarmed. 

“Sorry, I just-” Klaus wasn’t sure if it was a culmination of everything that had happened these last few days (years? Lifetime?) or if he really had just lost it but he couldn’t seem to stop laughing, “Sorry, I just never thought I’d hear that one used on me before. Sure, I’ve said it - usually to take the piss, but still-”

Gráinne’s eyes widened in dawning realisation, as the corners of her mouth cracked into a smile. “Oh, Christ- I didn’t even realise… I must’ve sounded so stupid.” 

“Not at all! I think you sounded just about as sophisticated as any romcom character.” 

“Which is… not a lot?”

“On the contrary actually! Have you seen their apartments?” Klaus crossed his legs on the bed and leaned forward, “They all have their lives together to a degree I didn’t even know was possible.”

Gráinne giggled, some of the tension in the room easing. 

Klaus chewed on a nail thoughtfully. “So… if it wasn’t me… what was it?” Gráinne’s eyes suddenly found the floor, “If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“It’s probably going to sound so weird.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but my life is generally pretty weird.”

“I don’t think I should-”

“It’s okay, whatever it is. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t look convinced, but Klaus maintained his smile. Gráinne drew a shuddering breath. “Okay, it’s that-” She chewed on her bottom lip, refusing to make eye contact. “You sound exactly like my brother. He killed himself. When we were eighteen.” 

A stone lodged itself in Klaus’ throat, threatening to choke the life from him. Lungs suddenly paper-thin and filled with bile and acid. The room spun momentarily. 

“Gráinne, I am so sorry, I didn’t-” he inhaled sharply, a miserable attempt at clearing his head, “I could- do an accent or- something if- that would help? I do a killer Fozzie Bear.” He was floundering, doing what he always did. Was humour even appropriate here? 

“No, I mean,” she smiled slightly, meeting his eyes for the first time, his fairy lights shining in the wet brown of her irises, “I mean- my power it’s… like mind-reading I guess. When I make contact with someone, I get like feelings. Emotions? It’s usually just, like, temporary and fleeting but with him - with you - it-”

Oh.

His ears were ringing, she was still speaking but he’d heard enough to know. Enough to know exactly what she meant, why she had been watching him with such sadness. He was now sitting naked in front of her, stripped of his skin and armour. A fledgling primed to fall to his death.

Something wet fell onto his hand. A tear. He hadn’t even realised he’d been crying. Amidst the silence, he watched the tear rolled slowly down the curve of his thumb, and soaked into the bed-sheet beneath it.

Her hand was on his, big eyes watching him thoughtfully but not invasive. Just there. 

“I don’t know who you lost or what happened - I won’t ask - but I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” Her eyes drifted down to their hands, “Neither of you did.”

To lose someone that close was one of the most isolating experiences in the world, especially when having to deal with it alone. Klaus knew that now. He’d never really lost Ben - not the way his siblings had - and so he hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to their hurt, even all these years later, because to him Ben had always been right there. From his perspective, their grief seemed almost silly.

“If it helps,” Klaus said gently, drawing his hand out from under hers, “He’s not here. As a ghost, I mean. Which I’ve figured means he moved onto someplace better than here.” 

He offered his warmest smile, imagining that place - not the black and white forest, somewhere else. Klaus knew that the place where Ben was, if he was anywhere at all, must the same place Gráinne’s twin was now. Where Dave… He swallowed his thoughts. As much as he tried to contact him and as much the repeated failures left bitter disappointment in his chest, it helped to know that wherever ‘the light’ Ben had mentioned on that wintry day all those years ago was better than the alternative: the wailing, screaming husks of people. People Klaus could not for a moment believe were anything like they had been in life. They were too cruel for that.

Gráinne nodded and tried for a wet smile, letting the tears dry on her cheekbones. “Thank you. That does- it helps.”

“What was he like? Your brother?” 

Gráinne choked. “What?”

“Oh, come on.” Klaus invited, “His life wasn’t just the end. Did he chew loud enough to make you lose your mind? Know all the words to every ABBA song?”

She was still blinking at him, mouth slightly open in disbelief. “Nobody’s ever asked me anything like that.” 

“Good or bad?”

“Good.” She folded her hands on her lap, a private smile creeping the edge of her lips.

“He was kind. Really kind - he was always the first one to offer to help and I was- I was not at all like that. Mum used to really get on me for that actually. ‘Why can’t you be more like Duncan’ she’d say…  Ma didn’t like when she compared us but to be honest it never really bothered me - he was always the better of the both of us, you know?”

She paused, gaze flicking quickly upwards. Klaus didn’t speak - this memory was hers alone. 

“He had the shittest sense of humour - exclusively puns, I tell you. One time I swear he nearly threw up laughing at this one- how did it go like ‘did you hear about the guy that lost his left side?’-”

“He’s alright now…” Klaus said instinctively, “Sorry. Luther had a pun phase.”

Gráinne nodded effusively. “Yeah, no. That’s the one,” she shook her head fondly. Klaus knew that face all too well; honestly speaking, it was his siblings face of choice whenever Klaus did…well anything really. “We were each other’s best friends, I think. And I just- wish I could’ve just- I wish he’d have let me hug him.” Her voice broke. “Just once.”

“Your power?” Klaus prompted softly.

“Huh? No… not mine. I can stop that from happening. His. He couldn’t.”

Klaus’ heart nestled back into his throat. That same familiar feeling, the nakedness of before. Bright interrogative lighting shining on and through his brittle skin; he hated the way her words and her brother’s - Duncan’s - story felt pressingly close to his own. 

“When anyone touched him, like you could just brush passed him by accident- anything, he would- he’d see exactly how you died.” 

There it was. In a different situation, Klaus could’ve screamed or laughed or cried at the absurdity, at the misfortune of it all. His entire childhood there was a kid, a kid his exact age, dealing with something so uncannily similar. A cavern gaped in his chest, eyes stinging but dry. And he didn’t react at all. 

“I don’t know if there was anything more I could’ve done to help, if there was- I would have done it. I would have done it so quickly, you know? In a heartbeat.” She buried her face into her hands, shoulders shaking in stifled, stiff sobs, “I’m sorry.”

In an instant, Klaus returned to his senses. This wasn’t about him. There he was, wallowing in his own self-pity, when it was he that had pushed Gráinne into talking about this. It was him that had opened this conversation and it was his job to help her in anyway that he could. 

“No. Gráinne I promise you, your being there would have been the greatest thing he could’ve wished for. To have someone there… that’s enough.”

Something like understanding flickered behind Gráinne’s eyes and Klaus squirmed beneath it, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “So, why wasn’t it? Enough?”

Klaus gritted his teeth, staring passed her. “Sometimes it’s just not. But that has nothing to do with you or… anything you could have done. I’m sorry.”

He watched Gráinne’s jaw clenched and unclench as she looked deliberately away from him, before just nodding. Words didn’t seem to be enough to express the way he wanted to comfort her, what really was there to say? So instead, he just opened his arms and she, with big leaden eyes, fell into them gratefully.

-

“Thank you,” Gráinne snuffled, feet shuffling at the door, “Neither of my parents ever wanted to talk about him, not like that. It was nice. Really nice.”

And then she was gone.

They fell backwards onto their bed, eyes fixed once again on those remnants of a starry sky. Shoulder still wet from Gráinne’s mourning, Klaus rolled over to check the time. Almost 11pm. Shit, that conversation - if you could even call it that - had felt much shorter, like they had been crushed flat by a landslide. A giant impact that left their soul raw and their head pounding.

They thought of Gráinne’s grief, and of their siblings. Of how easily they had come to the conclusion to become the safety net in allowing her to open up, to ease some of the weight she’d been carrying. Ben would have scoffed at them. Tell them that Klaus was good at dishing out advice they themself would never take. It wouldn’t have been the first time Ben had told them words to that same effect. 

Klaus pushed their palms to the backs of their eyes, groaning. How was it Ben was still irritating them at every corner? They wondered how Diego had dealt with their brother’s passing - probably punching someone in a side alley; what about Allison? Luther? Five? Vanya? They all missed their brother so much, and they’d just recently come to believe that he was still around - that Klaus was just being selfish. Childish. 

And Klaus had known Ben had missed them all too. Had wanted nothing more than to reconnect, to speak to them again. At the time, Klaus took it as a rejection - hated it whenever Ben begged Klaus to go visit his siblings. Felt that they weren’t enough for Ben, that Ben would have rather left them all alone if he didn’t feel morally obligated to look out for his trainwreck sibling. They hadn’t even stopped to consider that the grief of Ben’s loss went both ways - that Ben himself had been grieving his own death for seventeen years. 

They needed to know.

If not jut to bring closure to their siblings but also for Ben. Klaus was convinced it’s what Ben would have wanted him to do; he would’ve hated the weaponisation of his name, the way his sibling’s faces crumpled every time Klaus refused to let them talk to him. 

Klaus thought of Gráinne and her grief. Thought of the way that behind her tears, something had reignited behind her eyes when she had talked about her brother. Some long-since snuffed out candle, springing up from the wick and dancing behind her misery. It would be good to talk about him - they couldn’t keep skirting around the subject, feet sidestepping anything that could hurt. They had to take that first step - it had to be them. Vanya had kept the secret too long, and they could see how heavy that weighed on her shoulders - how nervous and miserable it made her. But she had kept it, for them. Because they were family.

And that’s what it came down to in the end. This roof housed six people, whose lives - for better or worse - were inexplicably forever connected to their own. They were all emotionally incompetent, dragged through life by their collars and were all sitting with their own grief - their own heartbreaks and traumas - but they were here. Together as they were at the beginning and how they likely would be at the end. 

It was messy, but in their heart they knew that each of their siblings were willing to work at loving them, at loving each other. At listening and understanding, in face of the way they were raised, in spite of the truths they had to abandon on the wayside. It didn’t have to be six against the world, it could be one - one collective unit. Maybe Diego had been right, maybe Team Zero really could be unstoppable.

Their mind wandered to the kind paramedic and his son, to Gráinne and her brother and their yearning for borrowed time. People who had seen their loved ones beneath Klaus’ shallow exterior, had reached out to them as a placeholder for what had been stolen from them in time’s surging current. There was so much Klaus hadn’t told anyone, for fear of being misunderstood or shunned as they had been so many times in the past. So much Klaus had kept sealed and locked away, a casket to be taken to their grave. But their siblings were open and attentive and fully there for the first time, and Klaus was tired of keeping them out. 

They would tell them about Ben, about Dave, about their power, the mausoleum and dad, and the way the ghosts - past and present - still suffocated them. In due time. 

They may not be ready all at once, but they would be. The road they faced was precarious, not without its pitfalls and snares. Some cracks could never fully heal over, some wounds may scar and splinter. It may not be okay for some time, but it could be. And Klaus was willing to try.