All These Lines In The Air
…
Summary: After their worlds seem to crumble around them, Stefan and Klaus are left to examine their brutal history together. Platonic Stefan/Klaus.
…
The earth itself is a raw red in colour, tinged by the blood which has spilt down on in. He scoops a handful of it, lets it trickle through his fingers (like so many other things), and lets the first of a series of sighs escape from his lips.
Sometimes it's hard to weigh what the bigger tragedy is here – what he's lost, or what Klaus has gained.
Speaking of which...
Stefan raises his head, peers through glossy eyes at the hybrid, whose silhouette is pronounced against the mist, fights back the urge to go over and speak to him, to demand some sort of retribution, but swallows it back, deciding maybe it's a series of revenge missions which have led him here, to this moment.
Revenge... On paper it's an amazing concept, not so much in real life when everything you love gets torn away from your arms in the process of gaining it. He cannot count on both hands the amount of times he's let his need for revenge drive a wedge between him and the people he'd loved, but he can count on one hand the amount of times such losses were worth it.
He sees the silhouette turn briefly, but even his heightened sense of sight cannot tell what emotion plays on the hybrid's face (anger? Respect? Vindication?) and he doesn't move to find out.
The spark that lit the fire which fuelled his need for revenge has long since been doused, and the embers which are left behind give off this bitter odour, which clings to his skin like perfume. Revenge has sketched a new character for him to adopt, one which has the mannerisms of the man who'd been stripped off his humanity, but contains all the fierce emotions of the man who'd loved and hated with equal measures of fervour.
He doesn't know who that man really is, only that he wears his clothes, goes by his name, shares his memories, thoughts and dreams.
Klaus has made him a stranger to himself, and for that he will always hate him.
….
In the days that follow, Klaus follows him, keeps watch on him, drinks at the same bars, always careful to maintain shadow distance between them.
Stefan thinks he should talk to him, drag an explanation out of him, but since he is maintaining this cold, indifferent façade (mainly towards Klaus), he thinks that would be a sign of weakness.
He can't afford to show weakness now and Klaus knows that.
….
On a quiet street in Illinois, where even the casual sound of children's laughter sounds haunting, he goes jogging, trying to gain some normalcy, trying not to fall back into his old habits.
The blood doesn't drive him as crazy as it used to anymore. On a physical level, it still gets to him – that hasn't changed – but on an emotional level, it's no longer the friend he falls to when every other method (including binge drinking) fails him. He can look at a bleeding wound, and be reminded of his darkest days, and still be able to walk away.
It's tragic it took a series of dark and twisted events for him to be able to finally control the blood-lust.
Damon would've called it ironic, or the worst joke the universe could ever pull.
He calls it karmic retribution.
….
"You still not talking to me?" Klaus remarks, lazily tracing a finger around the rim of his (now empty) glass. "How precious. You know I'm all you've got, right?"
Stefan maintains his silence.
He'll only talk to Klaus when the hybrid actually says something worth responding to.
It doesn't matter there's only the two of them left in this slowly crumbling world that is (and always has been) their playground. Only one of them has a moral compass, and though it's been distorted and twisted by time and loss, it still remains intact, just like his heart.
Keeping with that theme, both still function, literally, even though figuratively they're shattered beyond repair.
"Go ahead. Continue to ignore me," Klaus keeps speaking, a layer of amusement to his voice. "Sooner or later you'll crawl back to me. You might find it hard to believe, Stefan, but I don't believe it was coincidence we are the only two left. We made quite the pair once upon a time, you and I. It's not too late to get that back."
Stefan slams his empty glass back on the counter; he picks up his jacket, throws it over his shoulder, and then leaves Klaus the bill.
Figures since he's paying for the actions of Klaus, the hybrid can pay for his.
….
Klaus leaves little presents for him.
It starts with the odd blood bag, a different note attached to each one, each including a distasteful pun (fancy a bite?; let's be blood brothers once more; don't be vein, Stefan, let's share a drink for old time's sake).
The gifts become more extravagant; a bottle of expensive liqueur imported from Italy, a sports car, even the odd woman bearing a bleeding wound.
He turns them all away one by one, unable to help feeling begrudgingly impressed at the lengths Klaus is going to in order to charm him.
It's not working, mind you, but at least it gives him a brief change from the monotony his life has become.
….
"What are you doing here, Klaus?" are the first words he aims at the hybrid.
They stare at each other, exchanging venomous stares, both trying to maintain their alpha male status.
"Visiting someone, same as you," Klaus responds, keeping his tone polite, a white lily pressed between his fingers.
He stares, his anger reaching boiling point.
"You don't get to be here, to pretend there was ever a shred of humanity between your bones. You're the reason we're even here, doing this."
"Oh, come off your high horse, Stefan. Who do you think I learned my callous ways from?" Klaus smiles, but it's cold; ice cold. "At least you can live with the knowledge your sweet Elena died trying to protect you and your brother. Sweet Caroline fared no better. She was caught in the crossfire of yet another of your absurd plans to try and put me out of commission."
Stefan is so enraged by Klaus' blasé attitude, it's all he can do to restrain himself. Klaus doesn't care, he cannot care, and yet the flower tucked discreetly between his fingers paints an entirely different picture.
How the hybrid possesses the audacity to visit the grave of the woman whose heart he'd physically held in her hands as the flames burned around them will always be a mystery to him.
"I think I must've been completely insane to have ever been friends with you," he spits, his lips curling back into a feral snarl. "You're a monster. All this destruction rests on your shoulders."
"And you would shoulder none of the blame yourself?" Klaus, for the first time, lets anger show on his face. "My, my, Stefan, getting a bit above your station aren't you? Let's not forget who let his own brother perish rather than face me yourself."
"Damon was impulsive, but he possessed more courage than I'll ever have," Stefan remarks coolly. "At least he valued the concept of family. I will never forgive myself for letting him go after you, but at the end of the day, at least he died knowing I cared about him. I wonder, Klaus, if we could say the same about your family."
"Don't," Klaus warns, the flower slipping from his fingers, landing symbolically at the grave of the woman he'd (briefly) cared for.
"Let's see, there was Elijah... who you murdered in cold blood because he chose to stand with us rather than you..."
"I'm warning you, Stefan..."
"Then there was Kol, who you daggered and locked away in a coffin again." Stefan smiles unpleasantly. "Will be interesting to see what happens if I ever find that coffin and release him into the world again, wouldn't it? Oh, and finally there was dear Rebekah..."
"Stefan!" Klaus steps forward, his eyes flashing with fury.
"You watched as we killed her right before your eyes," Stefan say calmly, each word slow and deliberate, chosen to create the most damage possible. "She died watching you do nothing to save her. She died believing she could count on no one, not even her own family."
"Rebekah had an inkling her family was beyond perfect anyway," Klaus remarks coldly. "She was pathetic, a liability."
Stefan looks at him, shaking his head.
"Is being invincible that important to you that you can shoulder the deaths of millions of people, and the deaths of your family, for all eternity?"
Klaus shrugs.
He fucking shrugs.
"Hasn't tripped me up so far. Think I can manage the rest of forever dealing with the fact they are no longer around to ruin my plans."
Stefan shakes his head again, too emotionally drained to even continue this absurd conversation he hadn't planned on even having in the first place.
"This is why we can never be what we once were, Klaus. Why do you chase a memory of what we once had when your family is dead – mostly – at your hands? Why do you value what we briefly had over your own family?"
"Because you gave me what they never could – acceptance," Klaus replies evenly. "Even if you never meant it, you gave me the illusion of friendship, of being accepted, and that time in Chicago will forever outshine every and any memory I create from this point forwards."
He then turns on his heel, forgetting the reason for his visit, briefly turning back to stare at Stefan, who doesn't know how to react, so settles for looking confused. They stay like that for a moment, with Klaus appearing as though he wants to say more but can't.
Stefan saves him the trouble of trying to conjure up a way of ending the conversation, and turns his back, signalling he's done listening to Klaus' bullshit.
….
It figures when Klaus stops trying to win him over, Stefan finds he misses the company, if nothing else.
This is screwed up, even for him.
….
Over the years, he finds love, as hard as it is to believe, and catches it the way he would his prey.
It slips through his fingers the moment he dares to reveal his identity.
Only Elena had been brave enough to stay, despite the truth, and she'd died because of that bravery.
He will forever suffer because of her death.
It's after sweet Jenny bursts into tears and flies away into the night, and after he's compelled her to forget and to not be afraid, that he sets about tracing Klaus' steps. He tracks him through Kansas, through New York, through various villages and towns, finds evidence left behind (like clues) and eventually reaches Chicago.
For an unpredictable hybrid, sometimes that façade cracks and shatters in the presence of warm familiarity.
It's funny, but now he remembers, he finds he has a soft spot for this wonderful city.
He doesn't know whether it's the memories of Rebekah (and the brief love he held for her), the atmosphere (always vibrant, always buzzing) or (god help him) the companionship he found here.
Klaus puts forward the claim he found a brother in Stefan when his actually family failed him.
Stefan is beginning to think he might just have to stake a claim on that statement too, though he torments himself bitterly for thinking so.
….
Klaus finds him here, drinking away his troubles in the bar which (sadly) has been closed down indefinitely. Gloria died some time ago, and all the photos she kept have been thrown away, so all he really has left are the memories.
"Thought I might find you here, mate," comes the familiarly cocky voice of the hybrid. "Like me, you're a sucker for the past."
Stefan doesn't respond, merely stares at his hands, reflecting on everything he's lost over the years, all the people he's watched die before his eyes, and wonders whether loving someone even has a point, because when it terminates (willingly, or through death) it leaves you with a hole you can never fill, no matter how hard you try.
In a strange way, he thinks Klaus might just be able to relate in that department.
No matter what he thinks about it, Klaus loved Caroline (in the only way a monstrous hybrid can love a person) and he lost her. He killed her because his impulsive nature took over ("if I can't have her, no one else can!") and that will be his ultimate regret.
"I'm here because I have nowhere else to go," he mutters, hoping Klaus won't take this as a sign he wants to be friends with him.
Klaus, to his surprise, lets this go, and pulls out a bottle of liqueur he hasn't seen since the last time they were here together (well, try the time before that, given the last time they were here together Klaus was filling him in on their story).
"You know, we didn't get off to the best of starts when we first met," Klaus mutters, popping the cork from the bottle, handing the bottle to him. "But I like that our first impressions of each other were wrong. Makes our friendship that much more special."
Stefan snorts at that.
"No, my first impression of you was dead on – you are, and always will be, a narcissistic, controlling, evil dick."
Klaus chuckles lowly.
"I'll give you that. But you haven't killed me. The stake still remains in your possession. You could've killed me a million times over. Sure, you might've died alongside with me, if we're to believe that little bloodline theory, but somehow, I think you would've done it all the same. So, what's holding you back?"
Stefan cannot answer; he doesn't know.
"See." Klaus smiles, vindicated. "You might hate me, you might think about murdering me over and over, but when it comes down to it, you can't kill me. I'm all you have left. Whether or not you like it, we were friends once and that, my broody friend, is what keeps you from killing me."
"Maybe it's because I like being alive," Stefan mutters.
"No. I think it's because you enjoyed our time in Chicago and you just won't admit it. I can wait. I have an eternity to win you back onto my side."
Stefan shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and finishes the bottle.
He cannot admit, even though the thought nags at him, there's a part of him which believes Klaus may be right on this one.
They are more alike than he'll ever dare to realise; and they're more united than he'll ever allow himself to believe.
….
Their visits to Chicago are annual.
They meet same time, same place, even as it eventually falls under new management, and becomes some dread nightclub which is pulsing with youths who are, frankly, a disappointing replacement for the smooth company that existed in the 20s.
Each time they come, they exchange idle chat (nothing personal), and leave without so much as a goodbye.
Each time, Klaus pretends he isn't there to try and win Stefan over, and each time, Stefan tries to pretend it isn't working.
….
"I won't ever be that guy you knew in the 20s, Klaus. Not ever again. He was a different guy, who, insane as it sounds, worshipped the ground you walked on."
"Shame. I liked him for that reason."
"Friends don't like each other because of the way they were. They like each other for the way they are."
"Fair point. Might want to consider that for yourself. Holding onto grudges will only take you so far in life, Stefan. As I once said, resentment gets old."
"And as I recall, that statement later became redundant when you tried to get revenge on me for getting revenge."
There's a long pause.
"Nobody likes a smart ass, Stefan."
….
An uneasy friendship eventually follows, and a day comes when Klaus mentions the fact he's leaving the shores of America for good, and is unlikely to return. He mentions wide open fields, beautifully quintessential beaches, and the quiet, idyllic villages all associated with England.
He doesn't ask if Stefan wants to come with him, but the offer is there all the same.
Stefan doesn't hesitate.
"When do we leave?"
Klaus smiles.
"First thing in the morning. Are you sure you're prepared to leave your old life here?"
"I'm sure." Stefan is confident of that; there's nothing for him here anymore. "I visited England once. It's a beautiful country."
"That it is," Klaus agrees. "Beautiful, serene, and just the break we need from all the drama of the states."
He grins briefly.
"You do know all the drama will follow us back to England, right? You'll never stay quiet, you'll get bored."
"Oh, I don't know. A man can change, can't he?"
"Oh, a man can change, I agree with that," Stefan concedes. "A hybrid, however, can't."
Klaus chuckles.
"Always the pessimist, Stefan, aren't you?"
"I prefer to think of it as being realistic," Stefan amends, smiling.
Klaus knocks his glass against his.
"To friendship," he proposes.
Stefan reciprocates the gesture.
"To the future."