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There are three days between Ben’s death and his funeral.
Three days of Ben’s body laying in cold storage somewhere in Hargreeves’ lab as he and Pogo do whatever the fuck they need to do to get him ready for burial.
“But I want to see him!” Klaus had cried at Pogo standing in front of the laboratory door on the first day.
I don’t want him in there alone he doesn’t say out loud because he knows how stupid it sounds and for once he doesn’t want to exasperate the authority figure before him with his unrestrained thoughts. He’s still a little high from the party he’d attended before the mission but his thoughts are at least clear enough to allow a bit of strategizing. Maybe if I don’t act like myself he’ll take me seriously.
“Master Klaus, please understand. It would be... upsetting for you to see your brother like this” Pogo tells him, infuriatingly sympathetic in tone. “Allow your father to take care of the boy. He’s doing all in his power to prepare him for the funeral” Realizing he’ll get nowhere with the fucking chimp, he storms upstairs.
Whatever the rest of the Academy does during this time, Klaus doesn’t know because he barricades himself in Ben’s room (fuck his father for not allowing locks on their doors) before collapsing in a frustrated heap on the floor. From here, his eyes land on the clothes Ben had been wearing just before the mission, dropped on the floor by his closet. Klaus has a vague memory of Ben not being ready on time, having to dress in a rush, as he pulls the shirt to his face and grieves into it until his exhaustion finally takes over.
The next morning when Klaus awakes, there’s a moment where it could just be a normal day where he passed out on Ben’s floor having not made it to his bed, but instead of his brother looking down at him with a pissy face and a sarcastic comment, he has tear-crusted eyelashes and Ben’s shirt stuck to his face, and he remembers why.
His head is throbbing. His mouth feels like he was deepthroating a fucking scarecrow last night. The only thing he’d even consider getting up off the floor for would be to get some of the coping materials in his room, but he can’t do that so instead he folds himself up around that shirt and wallows. He feels the ache from sleeping in a heap on the floor, the sharp pressure on his shoulder and hip as they press against the hard surface, and wonders what his siblings are doing this morning. Are they suffering like he is? They fucking better be. But are they? Did any of them care enough about Ben to be as miserable as he is?
All Luther cared about was bossing them all around, especially him and Ben, always feeding them the same bullshit their dad did about not training hard enough to be of any real use to the team. If he was feeling anything right now it was probably vindication. Yeah Luther, you were right. We didn’t train hard enough and now Ben’s fucking dead. Are you so fucking happy? Are you and dad gonna compare notes about how fucking disappointing Ben was and how if he’d only listened to the two of you he’d still be alive?
Besides, if Luther was feeling any kind of sorrow over anything, he always had Allison there to fret all over him and make sure his fragile ego didn’t take any damage. She never cared about Ben either as far as Klaus could tell. Too quiet, too much of a loser for her. Not the fun fuck up like Klaus who she could party with and then still feel superior to by always having to fix him. No, Ben didn’t need her and she hated him for it. She’s probably glad Klaus’s only other support system is gone now so he can be even more pitiful and needy for her.
And then there’s Vanya. God, fucking Vanya, who followed them around like a sick, sad puppy always trying to be part of the team. Well, here’s your golden opportunity! ‘Nother spot just opened right up! Maybe dad’s finally gonna be desperate enough to put you in after losing two of his fucking child soldiers. God, did she really not see that she was the luckiest one of the whole sorry crew? Who the hell wants this shit? Who would want to be part of this team when it means Reginald Hargreeves actually pays attention to you? Fucking idiot.
Diego might be the only one who was actually sad right now, but that’s because Diego “Nobody’s Favorite” Hargreeves was always a fucking sad sack. Diego “Number Two isn’t just my name, it’s my whole essence” Hargreeves, who couldn’t manage to find a single partner on the team after Allison leapfrogged right over him when picking her partner because who wants to sleep their way to second place; Ben and Klaus connected in a way none of them could understand since they all love their fucking powers so much; and even Vanya and Five for whatever fucking reason, leaving Diego to be second favorite at best in everyone’s eyes and make his best friend their fucking robot mom.
It’s that mom’s robot strength that at some point opens the door as easily as if there hadn’t been a desk jammed against it and crouches down to set a lunch tray on the floor near his head. She doesn’t speak, but holds her artificially warm hand to his cheek and presses her silicone lips to the top of his head long enough to remind him that she is somehow the most humane one in this goddamned house.
Mom closes the door when she leaves and Klaus doesn’t bother to put the desk back. He realizes now that no one wants to check in on him or the dead boy’s room.
Klaus drinks the water his mother left him but can’t find the desire to eat. When night falls again, he makes his way over to the bed, still holding the shirt, and crawls in. The contrast of the warmth and softness against his aching body is almost like being hugged and when he puts the shirt over Ben’s pillow and wraps his arms around it the effect is real enough to bring on a new wave of tears.
On the third day Pogo knocks on the door to inform him that the burial will be that morning. Klaus extricates himself from his comfort nest and tumbles to the door.
“Can I see him now?” he pants, opening the door and almost stepping out.
“I’m afraid the damage was too severe. Your father has decided that a closed casket is the only option.”
“But you said he was fixing him…”
“Master Klaus, you don’t need to see your brother in this state. Remember him in life. Remember the calm, gentle friend who always cared for you. Who made sure this family remembered their better selves even in moments of dire—”
Klaus closes the door because whatever the fucking orangutan is going on about has nothing to do with Ben or how Klaus will remember him. Ben is a sarcastic bitch who puts Klaus in his place time and time again and shit-talks his family in hushed tones for only the two of them to hear. He’s the one who tells Klaus he won’t cry when he finally drinks and smokes himself to death, but lets him share his bed when he’s sober. Ben isn’t some holy saint who exists in eulogy; he’s messy and real and beautiful and Klaus isn’t about to pretend otherwise just because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone dies.
He showers and shaves and puts on the suit he finds laid out on Ben’s bed when he returns. On the way downstairs he stops in his room and grabs his flask because, one way or another, he’s drinking when this is done. At the courtyard door he finds Vanya, Diego, and Mom standing there. He takes his place in line and waits for Allison and Luther to make their way down, almost wishing they would never make it. He doesn’t want to go out there and see the grave.
A thick, wet snow has begun falling and Pogo hands each of them a matching black umbrella as they process out to the casket, already being covered by the heavy flakes.
They encircle the box that holds their brother’s body and though he tells himself that it’s not Ben in there; that he knows better than anyone that the soul is a real thing and it doesn’t hang out in the meatsuit after death; he can’t stop thinking about how it’s too cold and dark in that hole. How they’re about to lower his Ben into the rough unforgiving ground and cover him up with dirt and move on and that’s fucking fucked up.
Reggie takes the opportunity to blame his children for their brother’s death as if they’re the ones who chose to send kids out to battle to the death with terrorists and monsters, and Klaus is vaguely aware of the fight that breaks out among the Academy and Vanya, but his mind is on him and Ben and he can’t really be bothered with what they have going on.
Finally, everyone leaves because they’ve done their required ceremonial mourning and he can be alone. He stares at the photograph of Ben on the lid of the casket, surrounded by ornate tentacle ornamentation (because yeah, that’s how he would want to be remembered. Fucking Reggie.) as the snow covers it. That’s a nicer thought than the dirt, for some reason. Gentle... and calm, he guesses. It’s quiet, and the cold air he breathes in helps clear his head as he makes his way over to the gazebo.
Hopefully clear enough to pull off what he has planned.
He’s never really done this, but he’s spent the last few days painfully sober just to have even a chance. He doesn’t even know what to do exactly, but he focuses on that swirling chill he’s always felt within and pulls it to his hands. He thinks of Ben, sees him in his mind’s eye, floods his brain with memories and thoughts and feelings and pulls. He yearns with more focus than he’s ever put into anything in his life and without any idea if it’s working, he hears that voice.
“Klaus?”