Illness likes to prey upon the lonely, prey upon the lonely
Wave goodbye, oh, I would rather be dead
I would rather be fine
I want to be well, I want to be well
I want to be well, I want to be well
/
"I Want to Be Well" by Sufjan Stevens
Early dawn light dapples the courtyard in cold, pale hues, gleaming through the thick fog that swirls in eddies across the stone. The trees, just beginning to bud with the year's new leaves, are encased in ice—a freezing rain must have fallen at some point last night. The ground is saturated and slick.
Klaus breathes in, feels the bitter cold scorch through his lungs, and releases it in a puff of vapor. He has a vague recollection of running through the courtyard on a day very much like today with a boy his age who had a hole in his chest and a skip in his step. He'd pretended to be a dragon, breathing fiery-cold fog that would threaten the village unless Klaus, the dragonslayer, could defeat him. They'd had a lot of fun together but Klaus can't even remember his name now.
That probably has something to do with the hard drugs he's been doing for over a decade, but, well, the holes in his long term memory have mostly been a godsend.
The unfriendly dead are mostly quiet at the moment, which is a rare luxury. They shamble about the courtyard and only occasionally scream or shout his name. For the most part, they seem content to wail to themselves about the unfairness of life and death and vow revenge on whoever wronged them. That's all easy enough to ignore as long as he doesn't make eye contact or focus on the grislier details.
Klaus glances over at Ben. The two of them are sitting side-by-side on the little stone bench near the demolished remains of Ben's memorial statue. Little beads of frozen moisture cling to the black marble and make it look like the broken pieces are sweating profusely. Klaus tells Ben this, because it's funny.
Ben looks at the statue, then at Klaus, his brows knitting together. "Wait, why's that funny?"
"Well, there's that saying, right?" Klaus prompts. "You know, 'sweat from a stone?'"
Ben shakes his head, looking bewildered. "That's not—it's bloodfrom a stone. Not sweat."
Klaus narrows his eyes, disbelieving, but he hums and nods all the same after quite a long silence. "Huh. Learn something new everyday."
"Oh my god," Ben mutters, horrified but resigned, "you don't believe me."
"No I don't believe you, you literally just made that up!" Klaus can hardly get the sentence out before they're both laughing, Klaus doubling over and Ben throwing his head back.
"Holy shit," Ben breathes, dragging his hands down his face. "Please ask someone else when they wake up, I'm begging you."
Klaus straightens up and scoffs. "What, you think any of the others are well-versed in metaphors? You think they can even read?" this gets another round of roaring laughter from Ben, but Klaus perseveres, "they'll just think I made up some story about, like, juicing rocks or some shit." Ben practically scream-laughs at that, which is always worth trying to induce because he sounds like a kid again and it's almost like they never lost him in the first place.
When finally they both calm down, Klaus feels warm despite the bitter chill in the air and his less-than weather-appropriate attire. He never bothered changing out of yesterday's clothing—no one did, when all was said and done, and he has yet to work up the motivation to change out of his army vest.
They prevented the apocalypse, or at least delayed it, by simply freeing Vanya from dear old Dad's torture chamber and hearing her out. It couldn't be that simple, though—and, as Five assured them, it wasn't. Time emwants/em to happen, events will keep struggling through whatever obstacles are put in their way. Until they find a more permanent solution, Klaus figures everyone will be very on edge. Not just because of the looming threat, of course, but also because they're all emotionally-stunted dumbasses living under the same roof again while they help their sister learn how to control her powers.
As one of those emotionally-stunted dumbasses, Klaus doesn't have too much faith in the plan. First of all, because Vanya's powers are beyond anything anyone's ever witnessed, and second of all, because they are just as likely to kill each other as help one another. It's nice being off the streets, though, so Klaus isn't in any hurry for the arrangement to dissolve. (He's also missed his siblings terribly and wishes they all could have reconciled under better circumstances.)
Ben must sense Klaus's shift in mood because he's watching him appraisingly. "You're doing great, you know that?" Ben says finally, with a soft and fond smile. He looks warm and cozy at least, with his hands tucked in his hoodie. "I wasn't lying when I said I like sober you. You're a lot of fun."
Klaus can't help but smile back, even though his faith in himself is even shakier than his faith in their family. Three—or four?—days sober with no sign of Dave and the ghosts gnawing at his sanity has left him craving a release. He's always been so quick to give up, though. He'd like to hold out this time for his sake and for Ben's, and maybe for Vanya's too, if there's some chance he'll be able to help her.
There's also the fact that the hope of reuniting with Dave is just about the only thing keeping him upright most days without the happy haze of drug-induced bliss to cushion all the darkness swirling around in his brain. He's willing to do some very dangerous and reckless things for the chance to just see Dave, and staying sober is just the beginning.
A familiar swish of red and white draws Klaus's gaze to where a pale little girl has appeared at the edge of the courtyard. She still looks lost and uncertain, and Klaus heaves a sigh. The child bride who appeared the night Klaus died (and then un-died) has been a steady fixture in his life for the past few days, though Klaus has come no closer to successfully speaking with her. He's tried both German and French, but received no indication she understood, and there hasn't exactly been time to sit down and try to guess her language. She also doesn't speak, so that's quite a hindrance on the communication front.
"Can ghosts learn sign language?" Klaus asks Ben, whipping back around to look at him so fast that his neck hurts.
Ben frowns, considers. He had been watching the girl, too. "I mean, I don't see why not. But wouldn't you need to know what language she speaks in order to translate it into sign language?" Yeah, probably, not that he knows anything about sign language.
Klaus groans, vexed that the only friendly spirit he's encountered in years is completely out of reach. Ben waits a moment before speaking again. "Maybe you should talk to Pogo, see what he thinks?"
Klaus grimaces. He hasn't spoken to Pogo at all since the night he died (and then un-died). "I would really rather not."
"Oh." A beat of tense silence and some quiet shuffling. "Are you sure?"
Klaus rolls his eyes. "You're not subtle, dude."
"Wasn't trying to be," Ben retorts, not unkindly.
"I'm fine, Ben," Klaus says and hopes Ben will drop it. He's left it alone every time Klaus has asked him to so far, but this is the first real downtime they've had since that night. He knows that Ben is going to press and he really wishes he'd had the foresight to steel himself for this conversation earlier.
"Okay, but see, I don't think that's true," Ben begins, "because you woke up at four a.m. screaming, which isn't unusual, and then you immediately covered yourself in blankets, which also isn't unusual, except I just recently learned about something that happened to you which makes that particular habit very disturbing." Klaus winces. Ben isn't holding back, apparently. "Also, I can't help but feel like I've made everything much worse, even though you haven't said as much."
Klaus starts and looks at Ben, his eyes wide with concern. "What? Ben, no, you haven't done anything wrong, why would you think that?"
"I touched you," Ben reminds him without meeting his gaze. His voice is hushed and uncertain and he sounds like a child again. "Or—punched you, whatever, you deserved it. But I can't stop thinking that that must have been the first time a ghost has touched you since—then. And I don't know why you're not freaking out."
Klaus swallows back the bile that tries to rise in his throat and quells the trembling he can feel in his hands. When he talked to Pogo he had been in the midst of withdrawal and had felt more than a little unstable, which he's been telling himself explains away the breakdown and the waterworks. The explanation does little to ease his embarrassment, especially when he's stone-cold sober now and the mention of that is enough to start him panicking. "Give me a minute," he requests, because he needs to get a grip before they continue this conversation.
"If you can't talk to me, that's okay," Ben says, even though it's really not okay. If Klaus can't talk to Ben he can't talk to anyone, and they've both had enough of Klaus not talking to anyone.
Klaus takes a deep, shuddering breath, and he starts talking. "Okay, first of all, never compare yourself to them, ever. I'm going to hug you so hard once I can conjure you for realsies and there's nothing you can do about it." Ben quirks a smile at that. "Second of all, and this is really just an addendum to the first of all, you touching me is never going to make me freak out. It really bothers me that you think it would. So I need you to, like, vocalize that you understand me."
Ben blinks and looks somewhere between fond, amused, and concerned. "That's—that's really sweet Klaus, but it's not exactly what I meant."
"Okay, well, before we get to what you meant, I still need you to tell me you understand." Klaus insists.
Ben throws his hands up in defeat but the smile doesn't leave his face. "Alright, I understand that I'm not one of the bad ghosts and that you're not scared of me."
Klaus nods vigorously. "Yes, okay, thank you, carry on."
Ben rolls his eyes but does carry on. "Okay, what I meant was that me being able to touch you might mean that—you know, some of the more unsavory types might be able to as well." The amusement is gone from his face and voice now. "If you were to—I don't know, lose control of the power somehow, or push yourself too hard while trying to conjure me."
"That's what happened the first time, actually," Klaus says. "Not the trying to conjure you part, you were very much alive at this point. But it's like what Pogo said. I was pushing myself, trying to like, level up my power or something so Dad would let me go early, but I lost control and he wasn't back to check on me for a few hours more anyway."
He says it flippantly, because he doesn't know how else to deal with his issues, but it's not enough to keep a deep pain from etching itself into Ben's face. He looks like he wants to ask something, and then another thing, but he doesn't. Klaus is grateful for that. He knows that what he just said probably raised more questions than it answered. He clears his throat and continues. "So, uh, yeah, I mean, I remember how it felt to lose control of the conjuring and not being able to rein it back in. I was thinking, if we keep practicing, I can learn how to control it completely."
Ben swallows and thinks for a long moment. "That sounds really dangerous," he finally says. He eases into his next question tentatively. "I know you really don't want to, but is there anyway you could ask one of the others to like, spot you?"
Klaus is shaking his head before Ben is done talking and he laughs a harsh, unkind laugh. "Yeah, if this were to go south, the last thing I'd want is one of our siblings around."
Ben looks horrified, which is probably fair, because this is sort of the culmination of all of Klaus's self-imposed isolation and recklessness. "Yeah, no," he snaps, "if you want me to help you, you're doing it with one of the others around. I'm not going to sit back and watch you get hurt—and even if I'm able to intervene, you have to understand how much safer it would be with another person, too."
"How do you suggest I broach this topic, Ben?" Klaus's voice is frigid cold, even with a sardonic smile aimed up at the sky. "'Hey guys, what's up, anyone want to watch me try to conjure the dead and make sure I don't get sexually assaulted?' I get the feeling that wouldn't go over well." Is it even sexual assault if that's probably not what the ancient horde of broken and desperate ghosts meant it to be?
Ben must know that Klaus is just trying to shock him with his bluntness and get him to leave the subject alone, because he doesn't so much as flinch. "The only reason that wouldn't go over well is because you've never asked for their help before."
Klaus doesn't look at him. He's starting to get really cold, so he hunches in on himself and folds his arms tightly. His knee has been bouncing restlessly this whole time. The little girl is drifting across the ground with preternatural grace, observing the beauty of the frozen world. The whole family should learn sign language, actually, so they can communicate with Allison easier. He'll get started on that today after he gets cleaned up and dressed and eats something and sits through a lecture from Five or Luther. He's thrilled for just a second that he has plans for the day and that they involve spending time with his family.
"I wish I understood you," Ben laments. Klaus is more than a little hurt by that, but he tries really hard not to show it. "One second you're making a goal to stop hurting yourself so you can talk to the person you love, and then the next you're trying to get yourself killed before you get the chance."
Klaus can't blame him for not understanding that, actually. Ben didn't go with him to Vietnam. Klaus had told him a bit about it, and all about Dave, a man so brave and strong and beautiful and kind that he was worth giving up the only thing that kept Klaus relatively sane. This is just the logical next step. He's more than willing to give up his mind and body to hold him one more time. How could Ben possibly understand that? "This is the only way to bring Dave back," he tries to explain anyway, "yeah, of course there's a risk involved, but we just stopped the apocalypse. Luck is on our side and—this is worth it, Ben."
Ben, if anything, looks even sadder and more frightened. "God, Klaus, no. Come on, you can't be serious."
He's also willing to do some very dangerous and reckless things in order to be taken seriously, he's starting to think.
"Klaus, look at me," Ben snaps, and Klaus does, because an abusive childhood and military experience kind of condition a person to take orders, "this is not what Dave would want. He would be fucking terrified that you're even considering this." His voice breaks at the end. "God, man, you can't—you're scaring me."
Klaus's breath catches, and he doesn't say anything.
Ben, of course, latches onto that hole in his armor. "I just got you back. You're finally yourself again, after all these years. And I—I can't lose you again."
Klaus shuts his eyes tightly. His face feels numb with the biting cold and a deep shudder runs up the length of his spine. All these years he's been hurting Ben, pushing him away, and now that he's clean he still can't shake the habit. "Okay," he whispers finally. "I won't do this without help."
Ben slouches with relief. "You'll have to actually talk with someone, then."
Klaus grimaces. The cold makes his teeth ache. "Yeah, I know. I guess I'll just—test the waters with everyone first, see who's most receptive, or whatever."
"Or," Ben says with the tentative tone in his voice again, "you could talk to everyone because they're your family and they love you and you need help, and make your decision based on who you feel most comfortable with."
Klaus can almost imagine this going well. He can imagine training with Vanya, mentioning offhandedly that the two of them have very similar stories, and going from there. He can imagine sneaking out with Allison like when they were kids, maybe finding someplace quiet and far away to talk. He can imagine hugging Diego who would hug him back because he's Diego and he's not changed much from the grumpy teddy bear of their youth. The problem is, he's not sure how much of these fantasies would actually be conducive towards progress in controlling his powers and how much is a desire to reconnect with his siblings.
He can't imagine willingly confiding in either Luther or Five. Maybe it's uncharitable, but Klaus thinks he might just skip them if possible.
There's also the fact that he would rather not talk, ever, but Ben is right. When he brings Dave back he has to do it the right way. He has to be safe, and comfortable, and doing it out of love, not desperation—anything else would be a disservice to his memory, and to what Dave had always wanted for him, for both of them. Dave had believed in him so fiercely.
"We should go inside," Ben says into the stillness. The sun has crested the staccato lines of the city and is rising in front of them. Its warmth is minimal on Klaus's skin, but he can hear the faint drip drip drip of water weeping from the ice surrounding them, and he can see the fog curling up and dissipating into the air. The sweat on Ben's statue is flowing now and pooling beneath the broken pieces. "Klaus. Aren't you cold?"
"I'm fuckin' freezing," Klaus mutters with a full-bodied shiver. He stands abruptly and tries not to wince when some of the wandering spirits are alerted by the movement and start to drift toward him. He wonders sometimes if Ben thinks his reactions to the ghosts are irrational, or if he did think that before the talk with Pogo. "Let's try to go to the library later, hm? We should get some like, European language guidebooks or whatever the fuck."
Ben follows him as he makes his way tentatively towards the door, miraculously not slipping and falling on his ass. Ben snorts at his eloquence. "Maybe you should try going back to bed?" he teases, "tired Klaus makes less sense than high Klaus."
Klaus waves his hand dismissively. "Perfect, no one will ever know the difference!" He opens the heavy doors and steps inside, giving a huge sigh of relief as the relative warmth of the house washes over him. He holds the door open for Ben behind him even though he's perfectly capable of phasing through walls, because he thinks it might help Ben feel a bit more alive.
"Master Klaus?" Klaus nearly jumps out of his skin as Pogo's voice sounds behind him. He turns around to face his old teacher, who is making his way down the dimly lit corridor at his usual stilted pace. "Who are you talking to? And why are you up at this hour? And, pray tell, why were you outside without so much as a coat?"
"Ben, I'm stupid, I'm really stupid," Klaus answers, and Ben laughs.
Pogo's eyes widen, and he straightens his stance a bit. "Ah—greetings, Master Ben," he looks around, like he's expecting to see him, "wherever you are."
Ben raises one hand to wave shyly. "Ben says hi," Klaus helps.
Pogo is quiet and looks even more thoughtful than usual, so Klaus knows he wants to talk about something serious and not-fun. "Was Master Ben here with us, the night we spoke?"
Klaus scratches the back of his head and looks at Ben, who is trying his best to be polite and looking very interested in a dust mote suspended in the air. It's hard not to eavesdrop when standing between two people speaking in the middle of a long featureless hallway. "Yep."
Pogo's fingers drum on the head of his cane. The ghosts from the courtyard have begun phasing through the wall and crowding around them. Klaus does his best to keep his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to give Pogo anything else to latch onto and ask about. After a moment Pogo nods and, without a word, continues on his way down the corridor. He passes straight through Ben, and Klaus is tempted to act like he just committed some great crime against all ghost-kind. A glare from Ben says he knows what he's thinking and is not on board.
"I am very glad you can rely on Master Ben's company," Pogo says suddenly, stopping and angling himself back towards Klaus. "Consider that your other brothers and sisters may be happy to listen, as well."
The words are soft and hang comfortably in the air. Klaus smiles, because the idea isn't nearly as scary in the dawn light, without the imminent apocalypse and with a plan already in place. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it," he says, "and I think you're right." He's almost convinced it will be worth it.
The smile Pogo gives him is surprised, but profoundly warm and proud, and he doesn't say anything more as he continues on his way.
