Work Text:
Leo ran out into the street. A huge iron beast came heaving towards him -- no, no it was just a car. It swerved and crashed into a mailbox. The driver got out and started swearing. Leo didn’t really notice. He was too busy looking up -- when did the sky get so grey, and when did the buildings get quite so--
A horn blasted. Someone had the presence of mind to pull him back onto the curb. A taxi screamed by, the driver making a particularly creative rude gesture with his hand and a few tentacles, but that wasn’t really what Leo noticed just then.
‘Shit, that was close,’ he thought, heart in his ears. Someone had him by the shoulder. They didn’t let him go. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.
“It’s all right.” Even if that someone was Klaus, apparently. It sounded like Klaus. Leo swallowed. He knew it was okay. They weren’t far from the office. It was okay. Klaus wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him, Klaus really good at not letting bad things happen to people--
‘I’m okay,’ he tried to say. ‘I don’t know why I did that.’
“Release me,” he said instead. Except why would he say something like that? He didn’t really know why he started struggling and kicking, but he did that too. For a second, the stranger--Klaus, it was totally Klaus -- who’d pulled him clear of the taxi held tight. It was terrifyingly impossible to fight.
“RELEASE me,” snapped Leo again, twisting around in the man’s arms, flailing and scratching. He was in a bad spot, even if he didn’t understand how. Ugh, maybe he could slip from view. Maybe he could disappear--
Klaus let him go. Leo stumbled, suddenly free. He took two steps to the right and turned around. The stranger (stranger? he’d known him for like years now) stayed where he was, just….watching him. Leo stared right back. He hadn’t expected him to listen. Why, though? Sure, Klaus had throw off a building once but it was only for his own good.
And yet there was Klaus, stopped a foot away on the curb, his eyes dark with concern as he moved -- carefully -- held out a hand, and then folded that hand over his chest.
“My apologies,” he said, very carefully. “I did not know it would do this to you.”
“You…” gasped Leo. By now he’d made a bit of a scene. The first driver was shouting. Zapp and Zedd had just come around the corner. Steven was in the process of shooing off the driver and the world felt like it was spinning.
“Please,” said Klaus, offering his hand , very cautiously. “If you would, I would like to assist you--”
‘Mr. Klaus,’ thought Leo, ‘What the heck is going on?’
“Maximilian?” he asked instead. Which was really weird, because he didn’t know anyone called Maximilian, and that was very obviously Klaus. There weren’t exactly a lot of seven foot tall redheads in perfectly tailored waistcoats in this city. “Is that you?”
Klaus froze.
“Maximilian,” said Leo, in a steadier voice. “Where are we?”
Klaus shut his eyes.
“Why won’t you answer me?” asked Leo, his throat suddenly tight. He knew, actually, he was somewhere midtown, but he also had no idea where that midtown was, or why some horrible demonic fiend was presently flying above them. “This isn’t some afterimage, is it? I’m not imagining this, am I? Please, Maximilian. Please tell me you are here. Please, tell me that’s you.”
“We are in Hellsalem’s Lot,” said Klaus, finally.
“We’re WHERE?”
Klaus jolted, just a little.
“That is to say,” he said, again in that a careful, measured tone that didn’t really match the look on his face. “New York.”
“I see,” Leo felt his shoulders ease a bit. He knew that name. He doubly knew that name. He took a deep breath and looked around, trying to find something he recognized: he saw the crappy laundromat and subway stop and the donut place -- but none of that registered with any familiarity to his racing heart.
“Maximilian,” he breathed -- why did he keep calling him that? “...Why are we back here? And what has happened? Was it Servilius? Did he escape. Is he here?”
“Ah, no,” said a new voice -- Steven, that was Steven-- who’d said something that’d sent the angry driver racing away. Actually, he’d said something that’d suddenly made the whole sidewalk empty. “Not yet anyway. Though we could use your help to keep it that way.”
Leo stared. He didn’t like this man. He didn’t like him one bit. From his odd clothes, to that ghoulish scar on his face, to the strange way his shoes clicked on the ...stone (concrete!) streets.
“With your permission of course,” finished Steven, mildly. “Young miss.”
It was a beautiful box., made of a dark polished wood, caked in a red varnish, with strips of leather wound around it, covered in script written in a language that Leo didn’t recognize. It had been sent by an organization known as the Old New York Historical Society, and had arrived in a crate three times its size and stuffed with foam and, weirdly enough, copper beads. The leather strips around this box throbbed with a powerful aura. Klaus set about untying them, one by one.
“Marcus Servilius,” explained Klaus, as he did this. “A caster from the Roman period. It is said he made a contract with a demonic clocksmith in ancient times. He had his heart replaced with an indestructible clock. He lives so long as it is wound with a special key, and he sleeps so long as it is stopped.”
“So he’s like a Blood Breed?” asked Leo.
“Not exactly,” said Klaus. One of the strips hissed and snapped. Klaus drew his hand, then went back to his work, undaunted by the red welt on his wrist. “His blood has been replaced with oil. Most of his body is no longer organic nature. His mind however, remains, he must continually replace his organic tissue with fresh samples, or risk simply becoming a mindless machine.”
“So he’s a cyborg,” said Leo. “He’s an ancient flesh-eating Roman cyborg.”
“A clockwork man, to be exact,” said Klaus, “... but cyborg is not a bad word for it.”
“Sadly, no lead on which demon was responsible for that nuisance,” added Steven, nodding at Chain in the corner. “No one seems to want to own up to it.”
“And whether it is something known Beyond, they likely would not say regardless,” said Klaus, absently. He’d reached the last layer of bandages. These began to twitch and swell. The text started scrolling across the leather, like a neon billboard. “Contracts of that nature are subject to absolute confidentiality.”
“Not to mention, it's a bit out of vogue for most demons these days,” added Steven. He smiled, but his eyes stayed on the box. “Our ‘ancient flesh-eating Roman cyborg’ has emerged several times over the centuries. His last known appearance was nearly two and a half centuries ago, during the American Revolution -- a unit of Hessian mercenaries in the service of Great Britain found his key and wound him up, mistaking him for a golem. They thought, since they had the key, that he would do what they said.”
“How’d that go for them?” asked Leo, who’d paid enough attention to history class to remember some things. Like who won the Revolutionary War.
Klaus slammed his down hand on the lid of the box. The box’s aura exploded upwards in a fountain of light. The text stopped moving. The leather binding turned grey and crumbled away, scattering ash across the desk. Gilbert brought over a duster.
“Servilius murdered nearly all of them,” said Steven, mildly. “And used their bodies to regain his memories and his arcane knowledge.
“Oh,” said Leo. Suddenly an ancient roman cyborg was seeming less and less like a movie he wanted to see. “And he’s. Er. Awake again? And taking people’s brains?”
“He never slept,” said Klaus, shaking out his hand. It was red and bruised, but he seemed more concerned with the ash. “A much removed great uncle of mine, Maximilian von Reinherz, had been following the Hessian detachment that found Servilius’ key. He was unable to seal Servilius, as he was not a Blood Breed, but he did succeed at sinking him deep beneath the Delaware river. Silt seeped into him from a hole ripped in his armor. He was rendered unable to move, buried under the riverbed, and well beyond the reach of any 18th century technology could have accomplished. And so he should have remained for the rest of eternity.”
“Wow,” said Leo.
“Unfortunately, Klaus’ relative didn’t really count on modern construction efforts,” said Steven.
“Steven,” said Klaus, looking up sharply. Leo flinched back in surprise. It was rare for Klaus to be so outright reproachful. At least, with other members of Libra.
“The results have been regrettable,” said Steven, after a long pause, “Five construction workers dead, ten more missing. That’s not counting the men and women he has killed making his way north. Seems with all the muck drained out of him, Servilius is running at almost the fully wound state he’d been in after the Hessians woke him up. And he’s been killing his way up and down the Northeast. The casters have attempted to slow him down, but when he’s this active, there’s very little they can do that effects him for long. They’d hoped to run down the clock, but since he can operate up to fifty years fully wound -- it’s not really the better option.”
Leo swallowed. This really wasn’t the movie he wanted to be a part of. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because,” said Steven, in that careful, pleasant way that Leo was beginning to realize meant this wasn’t something he’d actually wanted to do. This wasn't information he'd intended to share. “Klaus wants you to know what’s at stake. Before we ask you to have a look at this.”
He nodded at the box, sitting in its pile of ash on the table.
“That’s not the key, is it?” asked Leo.
“No, it isn’t,” said Klaus. He reached for the box’s latch, and unsnapped it. It was actually very intricate in construction, with pieces that moved in and out as he worked to unfold it in full. “We would not need to be involved if it were. My great uncle retrieved the key after Servilius’ defeat. It, like Servilius, was indestructible. It is the one thing of value to Servilius. And thus the one thing that can be used to contain him in any way. Rather than risk losing it in a return trip to Germany, he chose to hide it on American soil. His assistant, a woman named Abigail Lenz, was tasked with rendering it unfindable. And on all accounts, this is what she did. ‘Some place,’ he said, ‘beyond any sight but perhaps her own, which would, God be merciful, be the last to ever fall upon it again.’”
“...but that’s stupid,” said Leo, “Nothing ever stays hidden forever. How could anyone manage that?”
“Miss Lenz had the All-Seeing Eyes of God,” said Steven.
“Oh,” said Leo. And there it was: the sensation of being kicked full in the chest, and the itchiness in his hand that made him lace his fingers together to hide it. The truth was, he was still not really good at thinking about others having the All-Seeing Eyes. “I guess that makes some sense. But I don’t know if I’ll be any good to you. I mean, I don’t even know where to start.”
“You might not,” said Steven, “But she would.”
“Mr. Steven, if I tried to look at an afterimage that far back, I think my brain might melt.”
“And that’s why the Historical Society has lent us this,” said Steven. He nodded in the direction of the box on the table, now open. Leo gulped heavily and leaned forward, a little wary of what he’d find.
Inside, was a velvet red cushion, and a small telescope.
It wasn’t an especially ornate telescope. It looked like it was made of wood and brass. It had a chain hooked in the back. Klaus turned the box slightly. Leo could make out an inscription, carved into the wooden handle, and the lens. The lens was something else, though. It hadn’t been made from normal glass. Klaus nodded, and Leo picked it up, examining it. It was a dark blue. Multi-faceted, with symbols carved into it. Flaws in the glass ran in concentric, interlocking circles. It looked more like a modern camera shutter, one edged by particular lines and notations written in a language Leo couldn’t really understand, had never seen anywhere, except…
Except…
Leo dropped it back in its box.
“Shit,” he said, despite himself. In the normal way, he might’ve really kicked himself for swearing in front of Klaus like that, but given the circumstance, Klaus seemed to understand. Leo swallowed, and swallowed again. He shoved his wrist against his mouth. He would not be sick on the office couch. He would not be sick on the office couch. He would not-- “That’s her eye -- that’s totally her eye-- and they put it in a -- They didn’t-- that’s not-- she wasn’t--”
“It was made by an American inventor living in Paris after the war,” said Klaus. “It was made after her death. He was a family friend, and she bequested it to him. No, it was not extracted while she was still alive.”
“Which is why it doesn’t work at full capacity,” added Steven, “It seems the user has to be alive for that.”
“Good to know,” gulped Leo. The telescope stayed in its box, now sitting slightly crooked. It didn’t really look like anything organic. That was almost more unsettling.
Especially knowing he had a set just like it in his own damn skull.
“But the Historical Society believes its lens may contain some afterimages of a bygone era, which is like we'd like you to take a look through it,” said Steven, “If you can use it to pinpoint the general area, we can send a search team.”
“That is all you have to do,” added Klaus. Slowly, Leo remembered how to breathe.
“Mr. Klaus,” he said, slowly, setting his hands on the edge of the couch. “Mr. Steven. With all due respect, that’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard, I'll do it, and tonight I want all the drinks after I do. All of them.”
"It should only take a moment," said Steven.
"Okay," said Leo. He picked up the telescope. "Okay."
He held it level with his eyes...
“...and so you would use my cursed eyes to retrieve the key of Servilius,” said Leo. “But why should I help you find it?”
He had, with some considerable wrangling, agreed to get in the car. Leo didn’t know why he’d had such strong objections to getting in the car. He really liked when he got to ride in that car. When it wasn’t riding into a firestorm. Or getting launched off the road. Or tearing through Park Avenue. But for some reason he took one look at it, declared it the Devil’s work, and had stood with his back turned to it until Klaus gently offered his arm. Klaus didn’t say anything, but that seemed to do it. Leo sighed, hooked his arm through Klaus’, and let him lead him to the vehicle. Leo might’ve had the presence of mind to stammer over this, remind him this was work, not some date, and he didn’t need the courtly stuff anyway, what century was this again -- but presence of mind was a weird concept for him right then.
“The casters have requested it, ” said Steven, sitting on one side of the car. He’d been checking an odd little case in his hand, something Leo proper understood to be his cellphone. “They have a plan for Servilius. They have drawn out a trapping array in an unpopulated location north of the city. They need the key to lure him to it. They think this could do away with him for good. Modern magic has advanced considerably in the time you have been….out of the county.”
“There is no magic that could kill Servilius,” said Leo, with a conviction he wished he could have felt himself. He hadn’t let go of Klaus’ arm, he held it tighter, even, hand covering his. “And, as you have told me, he cannot be bound. Maximilian, tell him this.”
Klaus sighed heavily and looked back from the window. He’d been grinding his jaw quietly for a better part of the hour. The arm not occupied by Leo was propped against the car door. His knuckles twinged as he eased his hand open and shut very slowly.
‘He’s really bothered by all this,’ realized Leo, really distantly. ‘Is it the casualties? Is it Steven? Klaus, what’s going on?’
“I can't. He’s asking too much from you -- but he’s not wrong,” said Klaus, finally. Leo blinked. When did Klaus talk that fast? It took him a second to realize: it was because Klaus was speaking German, and for some reason, Leo could understand him perfectly. “The changes in this world go far, far beyond this city. The wall between worlds isn’t as thick as it used to be. The casters know this. They want to to trap Servilius in a place between these walls. Some place where time advances faster than our world. It will run him down, and he will never be able to escape. It’s dangerous, and very risky. You don’t have to trust Steven, or even me--”
“Of course I trust you,” Leo nearly shouted. He was shocked -- not just by the force with which he said it -- but also by the fact he’d also said it in German. Perfect, fluent German. Nevermind his elective in high school had been Spanish and the most he could remember of that was how to say he’d be going see a movie at eight. “Maximilian you are the one person I have ever been able to trust. I--”
“Please,” said Klaus, and there was an edge of desperation as he said it. He took Leo’s hand in both of his. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“I think you are a dear friend,” said Leo, with a matter-of-factness that made him wish he could put his hand over his own mouth to make it stop. “I think you are my dearest friend. I think you are honest, and good, and far kinder than you ever let yourself admit. I think there are plenty of men in this world who have wanted to use me, their precious little witch, but I think you might be the only man who ever thought to ask nicely. You have taken many actions you consider contemptible, in your family’s mission to protect humanity. You feel you have sacrificed your very soul to your mission. But I know something of sacrifice, and I do not think you have given any of the best of yourself away, no matter what you believe. I think I would follow you into hell, if you asked me too. And I think you would protect me from what we would find there, with everything you had. I think that’s true in any world. In any place. In any time. And I can see that clearly, even now. Please, give these wretched eyes of mine some credit, at least.”
‘What,’ thought Leo. Where had that all come from? What’s more why wasn’t he totally freaking out while saying it? Sure, it was all totally true. But when had he ever had the words for something like that?
What’s more why did Klaus looked so startled. He went silent, eyes wide and face very red. He looked down at their hands. He let Leo go. Leo let him, thankfully. He seemed to need a minute.
“...if that is how you feel,” said Klaus, finally -- in English, thankfully. Leo was relieved by that. It felt too weird, suddenly knowing another language. And suddenly answering in it, too. “I will respect your wishes, whatever they might be.”
“Will it help you?” asked Leo.
“It would help a great many people,” said Klaus.
“But would it help you?”
“I would like there to be as few casualties as can be managed,” said Klaus.
“And I think Servilius is a pompous ass and needs to rot in deepest cycle of HELL,” said Leo, finally. He looked at Steven, questioningly. “Will these casters be able to do see to that?”
“That is somewhere in the itinerary, yes,” said Steven. If he had anything to say about anything he’d just seen, he kept it firmly to himself.
“Very well,” said Leo. “I will help you.”
“There was an orchard,” said Leo, “Near the end of the island. It was a small one, at the time, but not a place of great importance. Not a place an egotist like Servilius would consider. I don’t know what it is now -- how did they make these buildings so high? And why is that man’s head a pig?”
“A boar, actually,” said Steven, “And that’s a little rude.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Leo, who was deep down hugely mortified, but he couldn’t seem to reflect it just then. He only sat back and crossed his arms, staring unblinking out through the streets as Gilbert guided the car down the increasingly tangled streets of the downtown area that was once Chinatown.
“Please continue, young miss,” said Steven, easily enough.
“There was once a stream, and there were once trees,” said Leo, distantly. Adjusting his lenses, the memory came flickering alive -- the crowded, roiling street in front of him became an idyllic countryside. That’s right. New York City hadn’t always taken up the whole island of Manhattan-- but had it really looked like ever this? “Ah. Some of the roads are the same, though. How odd! How long did this take to build?”
The countryside flickered out. Leo climbed over Klaus’ leg to get a better look outside. He didn’t seem to care if this put him practically on Klaus’ lap. Klaus made a strangled noise, but didn’t say anything.
“And now there are so many people here,” said Leo, “They’re odd creatures, they glow in such strange ways, but they are simply walking down the street. I would think this the devil’s work -- but actually it’s quite lively isn’t it? And they are not some host, preparing for the end of the world?”
“They live here,” said Klaus. “Some can be a bit rowdy, but for most this is simply home.”
“Home,” Leo sat back. “I think I might like to live in a place like this. It think by its standards, I would be quite normal here, wouldn’t I? Will you show me around proper, once all this is done?”
“That might be a bit tricky, young miss,” said Steven, amused, “There would be a lot of paperwork involved.”
“Of course,” said Klaus, at the same time, “Whatever you would like to see.”
“Thank you, Maximilian,” said Leo, feeling warm all over. Then, his eyes gave a flick. He felt his vision veer out of his control. For an uncomfortable second he was staring at the street outside from about ten different angles in rapid succession, before his vision lurched forward, zooming in on some vague glimmer of light...
“To the right,” he said, all at once.
Steven checked the street signs.
“Orchard Street,” said Steven. “Well, that makes some sense.”
They stood together in a narrow little road made for service trucks and giant carapaced delivery men, in front of shuttered store that had once sold cell phones.
“There was a tree here,” whispered Leo. There wasn’t a tree there now. There was a fire hydrant. And a drunk tentacle monster sleeping in the gutter. Steven gave it a light nudge with his toe. it screeched and vanished down a storm drain. “A oak tree, with a split near the center...the farmhouse was there, of course. There was was an old man who lived there. He was quite kind. He didn’t ask about my face. I was so afraid he might…”
Leo rested his hands along the building wall. Next to the cellphone store, there was an old door. This, like the store, was shuttered. One of the thousands of buildings abandoned after the collapse, and one of the handful that had never been repopulated in the three years that followed. Leo ran his hand up and down the building’s stone facade.
“How deep did you bury it?” asked Steven. “Under the tree that is.”
Leo heard himself laugh. He didn’t know why that question was so silly, it seemed perfectly reasonable to him.
“I didn’t bury it like that,” he said, looking up with a smile. “The orchard must have been cut down a long time ago…”
“I can have Chain give it a look,” said Steven, to Klaus. “If you want to check for squatters before we knock it down.”
“Knock it down?” asked Leo. “There is no need. We need only walk forward. Here, Maximilian, let me show you--”
He grasped Klaus’ sleeve and, sure enough, there was the Way In. As far as Ways In went, it was pretty basic. A simple cast iron gate, one just barely tall enough for him. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. It was right there, next to the steps to the building. He flipped the latch and ducked in. A moment later, Klaus followed, bending awkwardly to keep from hitting his head on all that concrete wall.
“Ah--” Steven wasn't behind them. They were now standing in the basement level of the building with nothing but a solid wall behind them. Klaus turned, reaching for it the Way that wasn’t there anymore, but Leo still had his hand. He tugged him onwards.
“It’s all right,” said Leo, “I will not keep you too long. I would rather as few people see this place as possible. It is something that is meant to escape notice. If there are too many people around, it will never show itself. I certainly wouldn’t! Here, this way.”
Leo wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, but whatever he did, it worked. He took one step, and then another and then there, there -- in the center of what was supposed to be an old basement, with a boiler room and a vestigial fireplace and a pile of garbage in the corner, was a square of grass. In this square of grass, was a tree. It was an old tree. Old enough it must have been at least five feet wide at the base. Its roots cracked the stone floors. Its branches grew upwards, its bark black and knotted. It grew up through the ceiling of the basement, through a hole seemingly made for it.
“The building has been constructed around it,” murmured Klaus, “Why? And how did no one find the key when they did so?”
“Because it slipped their minds,” said Leo. Oh, like THAT explained everything! At least he heard himself continue: “Because I made it so that the world no longer saw it. Oh, the sun saw it, so it kept growing, big and strong. I never expected it to grow THIS big though. Trees live a long time, don’t they? As for HOW I did it, oh, Maximilian, please don’t be too mad at me. It was a bit complicated. But you will see, the key is right--”
Leo raised his hand. Klaus took it.
“Hm?” Leo blinked.
“Miss Lenz,” said Klaus. “Before you give me the key, I have one question.”
Leo looked up at him. His eyes lingered on Klaus’ face.
“If it is about how you are not Maximilian von Reinherz,” said Abigail Lenz. “Yes, I already know.”
“You are very honest,” said Abigail. Leo really wished he could’ve added a ‘no shit’ in there but, as he was currently sitting in the back of his head, he didn’t really get a lot of say there. Abigail leaned against the tree with her arms behind her back. “You have wanted to tell me from the start. I knew all along. I used one of my eyes to make this place, after all.”
And there, sure enough, in one of the knobs of the tree-- glittered a small blue lens, lodged in one of the whorls in the bark. Blue, gleaming, and all-seeing.
‘Ugh,’ thought Leo. ‘Ugh, ugh, ugh.’
“I knew, as soon as I had two again, that this body wasn’t mine,” Abigail continued, ignoring that body’s general bout of nausea at this particular revelation. “Still, I didn’t want to hear the truth. About who he is, or who you were. I was always a braver person when Maximilian was concerned, and I needed to be brave to come back here.”
“I did not want to bring you here under false pretenses,” said Klaus, with an injured look.
“You say this. But you also were worried for this young man who looked into my spyglass, weren’t you?” asked Abigail. Klaus said nothing. That was fine. Abigail seemed content to tell him everything. “If you know who I am, that means you researched my history. You know I am a criminal. You know I received the eyes when I was an infant, at the cost of my father’s sight. You know that I killed a priest who tried to exorcise me, and spent many years imprisoned for it. You know my vision eventually consumed me. I could no longer tell what in this world was real and what wasn’t. I spent much of my life raving alone in a cell, seeing everything and yet nothing at all.”
“I also know it was Maximilian von Reinherz who had you released,” admitted Klaus.
“Yes,” she said, softly, “When he came with the mercenaries, during the war. I suppose he recognized something in me that I did not recognize in myself. For that, I would have done anything to repay his faith in me. … and he did not believe in harming those free of sin. This young man’s hands are startlingly clean. I would not have harmed him. Nor would I have kept his body for my own purposes. My eyes have seen enough. I have no desire to linger in this world any longer than is required of me. But you did not know that, did you?”
“No,” admitted Klaus.
“And what would you have done?” asked Abigail. “Had I been less than cooperative?”
“I don’t know,” said Klaus. “I had intended, simply, to ask.”
“You trusted me that much?” Abigail laughed. It was a bewildered, delighted laugh. She reached up, to the old crook of the tree, where it split in two. Her hand wrapped around a thin metal object lodged deep in the bark. It should have been stuck tight, but at her touch, it slid free. “You really would have taken me for a tour of this city, wouldn't you? Klaus von Reinherz, I accept your remarkable sincerity. I will give you the key. And your man, too. Tell him I admire his heart, and pray that he keeps it, in whatever is to come. May he see a better world than I did.”
And then, like a puppet with cut strings, Leo collapsed like a lump at the base of the oak tree. Klaus ran to him, propping him up. Leo gasped and clutched at his face.
“Aaaagh,” groaned Leo, “The WORLD hurts. Why didn’t she at least keep them shut for SOME the car ride? And I HEARD YOU JUST FINE, ABIGAIL, YOU KNOW, SEEING AS YOU HAD MY EARS--”
Then Klaus pulled him close, and the rest of his rant was buried against his chest.
“She’s gone,” murmured Klaus. His hands a little tight on Leo’s shoulders. Leo slowly draped one of his arms over Klaus’ shoulder in turn. With Klaus bent over him like that, he could actually reach him. “You are yourself again.”
“I know, I know,” muttered Leo, trying to shake that stupid burning wire stench out of his head. Klaus took him by his chin, checking him for injury -- that was almost the most embarrassing part of all of it. Leo let him look him over. At least he could blush again, especially when Klaus pressed his face against his forehead. That was when Leo understood just how scared Klaus had been for him. This was still something new to him, recognizing Klaus was someone who could be scared. “I’m always myself. I’m okay. Just. Craaaap. she could’ve let me say SOMETHING. I thought people were supposed to blackout when they’re possessed that’s what happens in movies anyway and keys here by the way we should probably get this out of here…”
Klaus looked down. Leo almost couldn’t believe how simple it looked: just a sliver of metal, five inches long, with a spiraled tip. It looked almost like a demented crochet hook.
“And then we will need to get this to the casters,” said Klaus, remembering himself. “While there is still time.” He released Leo’s chin, and took the key instead. Leo braced himself against the tree. He was about to lever himself up, and he totally could’ve done it, but in the end Klaus reached around and lifted him instead, arm firmly around his waist.
“I really am fine,” mumbled Leo.
“Nevertheless,” said Klaus, “You can lean on me if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” wheezed Leo, as though he really would’ve said no. “Er, Klaus.”
“Hm?”
“Abigail,” said Leo. “Eyeball. In the tree.”
Klaus glanced upwards. Leo did too. The eye in the tree looked back. It might’ve glowed. It might’ve shifted a bit to hold them in focus -- but that also, maybe, might have been entirely a trick of the light. It could have been as empty and dark as the lense of the spyglass. An afterimage, belonging to someone long gone. Leo couldn’t see this place the way it looked over two hundred years ago anymore. He just saw the old basement, and the old tree, growing up through a building that never knew it was there, and, if that eye stayed, never would.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to find this place again once we’re out,” said Leo. Actually, he knew he couldn’t. Abigail hadn’t necessarily had a better understanding of her eyes, but it was a different one. Leo was sure, the moment they left this building, he’d never see this oak tree again.
“We could inform the others,” said Klaus, “We could retrieve it, while you are still here.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” said Leo. “I think it should stay where it is.”
“Yes,” said Klaus, “I agree.”
It took a few hours to clear things up after that. Chain grabbed the key and vanished. Steven and Klaus made a bunch of calls. Zapp and Zed got called off of their lunch break. K.K. at one point stormed in and started absolutely screaming at Steven. Leo got a cooling pad out of the office fridge, stuck it over his eyes, and laid down on the couch. He stayed there for a while. People came in and out of the office. At one point, Klaus turned on the news. It was about a sudden sinkhole opening up somewhere in a forest in Boston. A little bit after that, Steven got a call. He left to take it. In the meantime Chain returned to drop off some folders. She left. After that it was just the sound of Klaus typing on his computer. Steven came back. Leo knew it was Steven, his steps always sounded like tap shoes. Leo didn’t move. Everyone in the office seemed to have forgotten about him on the couch, and that worked just fine with him. He had a raging headache and the cooling pad was the only friend he needed just then.
“So, their gambit paid off,” said Steven. “I think they might owe us a favor, this time.”
“That was closer than I would have liked,” said Klaus.
“It always is.” Klaus must have looked at him, because Steven added, not without some warmth,“We’ll just tell them the spyglass worked, of course. No sense in them knowing everything about us. It’s not really a lie.”
“Did you know that would happen?”
There was a very long pause.
“What? With the spyglass?” asked Steven. “Not at all. If I had, it wouldn’t have tried it. Besides the fact Leo is a valued member of Libra, this method was just completely beyond our span of control. We’re lucky you’re such a gentleman. If Miss Lenz hadn’t been so willing to help, we might not have managed in time.”
“That’s true,” said Klaus, “...my apologies.”
“No need,” said Steven, “I’d have asked the same thing."
Steven left. It was quiet for awhile after that. Klaus wasn’t typing anymore. Leo wondered, briefly, if Klaus had somehow left the office and he’d missed it. But then...no. He heard him settle in the chair across from him. He sighed, deeply. A bone-tired, deep in the chest sigh. Leo pushed the cooling pad up just a bit. It had gotten dark during all of the commotion, and the only light came from the desk lamp. Klaus sat bent forward, his head in his hands, breathing deeply. Leo coughed and stretched. It gave Klaus time to sit up and fix his tie.
“You didn’t know it would do that,” said Leo, pretending he couldn’t see in the dark.
“I should have,” said Klaus.
“Maybe I should’ve,” said Leo, “M’the one who’s got these eyes. Still feel like I barely know anything about them, even after all this.”
Klaus eyes went soft. “Leonardo,” he murmured. “Please do not think your conduct today has been anything but--”
“Not worried about that,” said Leo. “Sit next to me?”
He did. Leo managed, with some difficulty, to pull himself up enough to make room. When Klaus settled, Leo flopped against him. Klaus made a soft noise at that. They were still getting used to this part of things, the part that didn’t typically come up at work when they were both supposed to be professional. Well. Klaus was professional. Leo was….anyway, Leo figured he was off the clock at this point, and he just wanted to stay close.
He had some other things in common with Abigail after all. Leo wondered if that might’ve been part of what had burned the remnant of her memories so easily into his mind. She'd been an afterimage. Not a ghost. He didn't know why reminding of himself that made him feel so sick. Then he remembered it hurt to think too hard and went back to just leaning on Klaus.
“Know what happened to her?” asked Leo, around his throbbing headache. “I mean, I'm still super annoyed at her but…you did look it up, right?”
“Yes,” said Klaus.
“Tell me?” asked Leo. “Don’t mind if it’s bad. I just want to know.”
Klaus tensed, hesitated, and then, after some obvious consideration, nodded.
“After the Revolutionary War my great uncle returned to Europe and it appears she went with him,” he began. “But it seems as though because he served as a government operative, he was eventually forced to leave her to protect her from being exploited by his employers. She lived comfortably in Paris until the end of the 1780s, and the French Revolution. It seems she bore witness to quite a number of bloody happenings during the Reign of Terror… after that, she vanished from all official records. It is known at least in the interim that she had a will drawn up, where she dictated what she wished to be done with her remaining eye, but her exact date of death is not known, nor the cause.”
“And your great uncle?” asked Leo.
“He stopped saving his letters after 1788,” said Klaus, in a distant voice. “He died in 1812. My family doesn’t have many other records of him. He had no direct descendants. He never married.”
“Huh,” said Leo. “So, that’s it?”
“It would appear so,” said Klaus.
Someone had already come to collect the box. It didn’t matter to Leo. He didn’t really have any urge to try to see the afterimage of Abigail Lenz again. It seemed like it would’ve been an invasion of privacy. His own, and Abigail’s -- he wanted to leave her whatever happiness she might’ve allowed herself. He hoped there had been at least some in her life.
“Klaus,” said Leo, cracking open one eye.
“Mm?”
“You know how I said I’d want all the drinks after all this?”
And, despite everything, Klaus chuckled. Leo felt it really, rumbling deep in Klaus’ chest. It felt hard won. “Mm. You did say something like that.”
“I changed my mind,” said Leo. “I think I just want some tea. But I don’t have any at my place. Could I come over to yours tonight? I mean. Not to be ...forward or whatever you’d call it. Just. You seem like you could use the company. And I want to make a nuisance of myself. That all right?”
“If you wish to make a nuisance of yourself,” said Klaus, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, just a tick. “I would like that very much.”