Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Five years. It had been five years since Reginald Hargreeves locked Ben in a mental hospital. Five years since Klaus’s death. Three and a half years since Diego started to visit (weekly turned to monthly turned to every other month . . . and yet still Diego didn’t believe him and Klaus, and Klaus still couldn’t manifest, why couldn’t he manifest--). Two years since Chuck was cleared by the doctors to leave the hospital. One year since Klaus was able to hold a conversation and be visible with Dr. Lewis and Ben at the same time for longer than an hour.

One month since Ben found out about Gin’s ties to the hospital.

“Your parents own the hospital?” he asked, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Gin said, leaning back in their seat and propping their head with shaky hands. They tried to hide the unease, but Ben had known them long enough to see through it. “After a scare, they kinda just left me in here for others to deal with. They don’t like that I’m different.”

“Wow, that’s messed up,” Klaus frowned. Gin just shrugged. Their eyes didn’t meet Klaus’s, which meant that Klaus wasn’t visible to them, but they heard him at least.

“It is what it is . . .” they sighed. “My relationship with Amanda is much better, though. I used to really hate her . . . and most of it was because she took Mom and Dad’s side. She didn’t really understand why I’m not like what they wanted, and she still struggles with it sometimes. But it’s been better. She started to change, after . . .” They gesture to a giant scar at their neck. “From then on, she tried to understand.”

“Oh . . .” Ben hunched a little. “But that’s good, right?”

They smiled. “Oh yeah. While it sucks that she had to change after my accident, it’s still better than her wondering why I just don’t fit in the mold my parents wanted.”

“So . . . your access to the roof, and the way you can sneak outside?”

“Yep, all because I’ve got special ties. That and my parents don’t know a thing about what happens in here, they just own the place. Take all the money and live in a mansion by the ocean.”

Ben screwed up his nose in disgust. Gin laughed at his expression.

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

Now here he was, Gin, Lina, Amanda, and Dr. Lewis hustling around his hospital room and gathering his few things and waking him up. Klaus hovered over him excitedly, and when Ben opened his eyes, his brother got up in his face.

“Ben, we’re busting you out!”

“What . . .?” Ben rubbed his eyes and sat up, taking in the chaos.

“Amanda, the guards?” Gin asked.

“Still changing. Seems one of them wanted to share videos of some sort.”

“Man, I really hope I don’t lose my job for this . . .” Lina sighed and zipped the bag shut. “Although, not a terrible way to get fired.”

“Ben, are you awake?” Dr. Lewis leaned over the cot and Ben nodded with a frown. The others all stopped what they were doing to look, smiling wide.

“Good, he’s up,” Gin grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him off the bed. “Come on, we’re getting you out of here.”

“I--What?” Ben didn’t have the mental capacity to process this right now. His brain was still loading. It was the middle of the night, what the hell ???

Klaus giggled and followed behind the group as everyone hurried Ben from the room, Amanda at the lead and checking for security. Dr. Lewis was in the back, and he calmly explained the situation.

“We’ve decided you no longer need to be here,” he said. “You’ve improved exponentially compared to when you came in. Especially in regards to your self-esteem and confidence in control. The past traumas you faced are no longer such a pressing concern, but rather a part that you overcame.”

“What the doctor is trying to say,” Lina butts in, “is that you’ve graduated therapy. Congratulations! But your father won’t let you leave, and the higher-ups are all in for the money. So, we’re helping you escape.”

“Remember how I said my parents moved away with the money?” Gin asked. Ben nodded. “Yeah. As long as Reginald keeps pouring in money, they don’t care what goes on here. You could be long gone and no one would have a clue.”

“Is it highly illegal to fake a patient document?” Dr. Lewis shrugged. “Of course, but you deserve to be outside. You’ve been here long enough. You’ve already built up a fantastic support system, and with this graduation, there’s no further reason to keep you here.”

“Illegal?” Ben squeaked. “Wait, what? Dad’s putting a lot of money into keeping me here?”

They all stopped, some eyes filled with sadness, others with grim understanding.

“They never told you,” Gin’s grip on his arm tightened.

“Did you know about this?” Ben asked Klaus.

Klaus looked just as surprised as him, and he quickly shook his head. “Dad’s enough of a bastard, but I never thought he’d actually just throw you in here for the rest of your life.”

The group relaxed slightly. “If Klaus didn’t know either, then that means they went to lengths to keep you here, and keep you happy.”

Ben growled, Jamin mirroring him. But neither turned violent, and no one tensed as though Ben were about to go crazy. Ben was eternally grateful for it, and some of his ire soothed.

“And just when I thought maybe Reginald had some redeeming values. Guess if it looks like a bastard, talks like a bastard, it’s a bastard.”

Klaus barked a sudden, surprised laugh at that. Ben threw a wide smile his way, and straightened.

“Alright, so I’m busting out?”

The group beamed and rushed him down the hall to the back exit.

Ben had been outside his room several times during the night, mostly to follow Gin on one of their fun adventures, but for some reason the shadows seemed heavier tonight, full of potential threat. The hallways had never looked so frightening, or so thrilling.

Ben was getting out. He was leaving . After five hard, long, and sometimes desperate years, Ben was going home.

Or, well . . . maybe not home , but away from this place. If dad wanted him gone, then fine. Ben would get his own apartment, and he would live like a normal man. Twenty-two and he was finally going out into the world. 

The back door was right there, the neon sign lighting the hallway eerily. Giddy, he missed the quiet footstep around the corner. Klaus, however, didn’t.

“Guard behind,” Klaus whispered harshly, and the group came to a stop. Dr. Lewis hurriedly shoved Ben and Gin into a nearby closet while Amanda and Lina hid behind a pillar. Jamin rumbled impatiently, but Ben’s heart was pounding fiercely. They were so close. Why did the guard have to come this way?

The guard’s heels clunked down the hall towards the group, and Ben held his breath. Dr. Lewis, keeping Gin and Ben out of sight should the doorway swing open, tensed when the steps paused. Gin’s breathing sounded far too loud in the silence, and he wanted to cover their nose just until the steps started again.

There was a shift of fabric, and the crackle of a radio. “Val to Bingham, over?”

“ Copy, Val ,” a voice on the other end spoke. “ Everything alright? ”

“You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re over, over,” Val, presumably, said.

There was a long, put-upon sigh. “ Just tell me what’s wrong .”

“You didn’t say ‘over’, over.”

There was some more back and forth, and slowly Ben began to relax. If it was urgent, they wouldn’t have been bickering, right?

“I was mostly just bored,” Val said. “But I’m also pretty sure I heard someone, over.”

Ben’s tension shot up again.

“ You should lead with that! ”

“Well you’re not being nice, over.”

“ Enough with the ‘over’ crap. Did you see anyone? ”

The silence that followed nearly gave Ben a heart attack. Klaus poked his head out of the closet. His brows were furrowed when his head returned, a frown setting in. Ben’s breath came in faster.

“Nope!” Val’s voice boomed, and Ben startled so badly he just about knocked over several brooms and a mop. Gin caught him just in time. “Just a rat. Weird, sounded like someone was shuffling around.”

Klaus beamed proudly, giving Ben a thumbs up. Ben had no clue what Klaus had done, but the relief was palpable.

Once the guard moved far enough away, Klaus gave them the all clear and they all hurried for the door. Dr. Lewis quietly typed in the code and pushed the door open, and Ben . . .

Well, Ben felt the change.

It was a strange sensation. One minute, the air was normal and familiar, the next it was fresh and clearer than he had ever tasted it.

Logically, he understood that it wasn’t different. It was the same air he had breathed his whole life. And yet . . .

“Freedom!” Klaus hooted into the night. Gin rushed to blindly shush him, but Ben froze in the parking lot after the shouted word.

Freedom .

That was exactly what it was.

Freedom.

Ben was finally free.

Reginald was disappointed in the members of the Academy. First it was Number Six, who refused to cooperate and ended up in a mental facility. Then it was Number Seven, which wasn’t too much of a problem as long as she continued to take her medications. But soon after she left, the rest followed. Number One was the only member who remained, but his lackluster performances on his own left much to be desired. 

Ironically, it was Number Four, the one he had called useless in life, that was the only one who was of actual use to Reginald. He always knew that there was so much more to Number Four’s potential.

Five years had passed since Number Four’s death, and yet none of the other members had come close to the usefulness that Four had. Sending Number Six away was the best decision he had made. He had no doubts that much of his experiments would not have been possible if Number Four had not stayed away from his body, and he had a theory that Six was indeed seeing Four’s ghost. The possibilities that Four presented, both inside and outside his body, greatly intrigued the eldest Hargreeves.

The simple slide of the scalpel across cold skin was no longer thrilling, though the science beneath the surface had his blood thrumming. He only had a certain amount of time before the skin began to repair itself, and he had discovered (in quite the difficult way) that clamps did not help and instead began to merge with the sinew. He had maybe an hour before the skin knit itself back together, so he got to work swiftly.

The heart was a difficult organ to remove without affecting the other organs, but as the subject healed itself naturally, he was not concerned. What he was concerned of, though, was the removal without affecting the heart and aortic valves.

He had been sending organs from Number Four since last year, when it was confirmed that the organ worked when transplanted in another being. Already the desperate need for donors was becoming manageable. Truly, Number Four was the most useful to the world as a cadaver.

The apocalypse was still on his mind, constantly. It was why he had gathered the Academy to begin with. But with this, with Number Four in his possession, it was highly possible that the apocalypse could be managed. Controlled. If Number Five truly never returned--

The click of Pogo’s cane drew him from his thoughts, and he glanced at the bipedal primate before getting back to his task. “Good evening, Pogo.”

“Doctor,” Pogo greeted back.

“I hope you contacted the hospital?”

“Of course, sir,” Pogo hesitated in the door, features pinched. Reginald sighed and stood up straight from his hunch.

“Is there something the matter?”

“Lu--Number One, sir. He’s asking to speak with you.”

Reginald hummed. He did say he was going to send out the Academy for a mission today. Something to do with a chemical factory. Well, as Number One was the only member left, it shouldn’t be too hard a mission.

“Yes, of course. Tell him I will be up in a moment.”

Pogo hesitated once more, eyes set on Number Four with a remorseful look. Before Reginald could reproach him for it, the chimpanzee gave a small nod and exited the room. Reginald huffed.

“I thought I had reprimanded him thoroughly already . . .”

He finished his task and allowed for Number Four’s body to mend itself on its own.

Chapter Text

Luther was . . . frustrated (lonely). He didn’t realize how resentful he could get (that was a lie). After years of fighting together, after all that had happened (Klaus . . .), his siblings had abandoned their dad (their brother) and allowed for the Academy to fall to pieces. They had left , and he, being the good son, was the only one to stay.

Frustration and resentment were the feelings he allowed . . . but only to drown out the biggest one. The loneliness .

He hated being alone.

But as the good son, it was his duty to pick up the pieces where his siblings could not. He supposed, if everyone left, he would have to pick up the slack. He was the best member of the Academy, anyways. He could do it.

(He didn’t want to do it. Not alone.)

Carrying the expectations had never been so heavy. As the literal strongest in the Academy, he had been holding the weight of the world on his shoulders since childhood. He held the weight of the Academy’s failures. (He held the weight of Klaus’s death, weighing his heart down more and more every day.)

With everyone gone, he had to keep up appearances that everything was fine. Nothing was fine.

Standing in front of Klaus’s makeshift grave that they all pitched in to create for him, Luther contemplated Diego’s words as he left.

Wake up, Luther! This isn’t a silly little game of Cops and Robbers anymore. Dad doesn’t care about us. If we don’t leave, we’ll all end up like Klaus.

Luther had thrown a punch, then. He had denied it. Dad was looking out for them. He was training them to be the best they could so they could save the world. But then . . .

Why hadn’t they been given something to remember Klaus by? They had Five’s painting in the sitting room, but nothing for Klaus. Klaus’s funeral was public, too, leaving the Academy with no choice but to remain strong and not mourn their fallen brother. The siblings had to do it on their own after the funeral, and together they made Klaus a little grave in the living room.

But now, even saying Klaus’s name was taboo. It brought up too many emotions and made them fight each other. His death was used to cut below the belt when insulting each other. He was used when tensions raised, or when someone wanted to cut a conversation short, or . . .

Well, Klaus’s memory wasn’t used well, was all.

Their father, however, just let it happen. He didn’t talk about Klaus, but he also didn’t do anything, either. He didn’t put up a painting like Five, he barely acknowledged Klaus’s death . . . And it got Luther thinking.

Maybe . . . Maybe Diego was right.

He didn’t know how truthful or how terrifying that idea would be after his mission.

Agony . Agony so sharp it clouded his mind. He couldn’t remember his name. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think . He could do nothing but exist in the all encompassing pain .

Hazily, he registered a familiar voice, the deep rumbles bringing both a sense of relief and blatant fear. A weird conflict, for sure. The second, higher voice brought instant comfort. He let darkness swallow him and lead him to a state of numbness.

He awoke next to a sharp prick in his elbow and the pain flared again. Gone was the relief of the darkness. There were lights and confusing noises and so much pain, his lungs were burning his bones were melting help--

"Num--will have to--serum--Number Four--"

Klaus .

"Klaus," he groaned. Was Klaus there? Would he see him again? He wanted to hug his brother. He missed him . . .

He fell back into the darkness.

He woke a few times after that, but he never remembered what happened. He thought he saw Klaus at one point, not looking a day over 17, but dressed in Ben's old jacket and giving Luther a sad smile.

When he woke up fully, Luther took stock of his surroundings. He was in a bed, a soft one, and there were machines surrounding him, keeping a steady reading of his vitals. He felt heavy, like something was trapping him and weighing him down. Which was impossible, because his powers were to be literally stronger than anything in the world.

When he finally gathered the courage to look down at himself, he was shocked at the scars littering his body, and the skin that was not his skin attached to many areas. His breath came in short gasps as he slowly raised himself to sitting upright.

The mirror on his dresser showed a different face. It was his face , but gone were familiar features. His lips were recrafted, his eyebrows were gone, and his nose was mushy looking, like it was part liquid and barely staying on his face.

At least the hair on his head was still there . . .

He screamed.

Klaus visited Luther the day after Ben found an apartment, leaving his sleeping sibling in the safety of the shelter. A part of him was expecting something bad--he and Ben had seen the news--but what he found was horrible . Luther was bandaged from head to toe, any skin that was visible was burned so badly that skin grafts were the only thing keeping him together.

Luther’s hair was singed. His eyebrows were gone. His fingernails were gone. His soul was hovering just above his body, barely tethered.

But he was alive.

He was alive .

Klaus could cry.

Maybe he did.

Luther’s eyes had peeked open at some point, and Klaus had given him a smile, but he wasn’t sure if the man could see it. Klaus liked to pretend he did.

It was on day twelve after Luther’s accident that Klaus felt a little better about leaving his bedside. Ben was probably worried, and whatever medicine Dad had cooked up seemed to be doing the trick, because Luther was starting to look better.

(He would always have horrible scarring. Luther would never be the same again, and Klaus’s heart ached for the strongest Hargreeves.)

He made it back to Ben with the news of Luther’s steady recovery and any information on the man he had (it wasn’t much, admittedly. Most of Daddy Dearest’s notes were about the incline in health and how the “new serum” was working wonders). Ben had been worried for days, and confessed that he had another episode while Klaus was gone. The Horror had kept them both alive until Klaus’s return, and the ghost was quick to comfort Jamin and Ben upon his arrival.

He apologized for being away for so long (time got messy when being a ghost, and in his panic to check on Luther, he forgot to keep a sentry), and promised to stick by Ben’s side for a few days to make up for it.

(He kept his word to a “T”, and it was hilarious that Ben’s reaction to Klaus being in the room while he showered was to squeal like a girl. It would remain one of Klaus’s treasured memories.)

“Luther’s doing better, though?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” Klaus confirmed. “He might get a bit of a scare when he wakes up, but knowing Luther, he’ll bounce back. He’s stronger than all of us.”

Ben nodded, seeming pleased. “Good. Maybe we can visit him sometime soon,” he said, grabbing his jacket and heading to the diner where he worked for the money to go to college.

They never did go visit.

June 7, 2012

Number One had a serious accident, which was excellent. We had a chance to test out the serum created from Number Four's blood samples. Thankfully for Number One, it worked much better than the backup I had in store, as the second was still in the testing phase and may have resulted in unforeseeable consequences.

Number One is still of use, even if his body looks rather atrocious. At least it’s not mangled beyond recognition. I will continue to send him on missions once we have tested that the serum didn’t damage his abilities. He will just need to wear a full facial mask so as to not startle civilians.

Number Four continues to amaze and impress me. I will be sending out the serum in a few years. There is still much testing to be done and side effects to be seen. Number One has fully recovered, but, like mine and Pogo’s observations with Number Four, he only recovered from what was life-threatening. After that, his own healing needed to transpire. I’ll need to think of a way to make the serum more potent so as to fully heal from injuries without leaving the subject horribly scarred.