Chapter 12
...two milligrams narcan administered….coming around now...shit for veins...frequent flyer...any idea what he took…
The uncaring voices filtered through the sticky haze that seemed to be rapidly thrusting his consciousness forward. He felt his wrist lifted and jerked harshly against something metal. He could feel a grinding grit in his eyes every time they moved beneath his eyelids, his nostrils filled with the smell of antiseptic.
"Are these coming off?"
"Staying on. He's under PD arrest, the officer's talking with check-in."
"What'd he do this time?"
"I don't know, something about his brother dying-"
That was the last thing he heard before his eyes flew open and he attempted to leap from the stretcher. Multiple hands grabbed and pushed at him but ultimately it was the handcuff attached to his wrist and the stretcher rail that kept him tethered. He kicked and bit and punched with his good arm; he had to fix it, he had to find his brother, had to pull him back. He screamed and got a good kick into a face, hearing a crunch before he threw himself to the side, his world suddenly turning over as the stretcher toppled and he crashed painfully to the hard, marble floor.
The room was in chaos as more feet came charging in, voices yelling out as hands grabbed at him. He screamed Ben's name, screamed Diego's name, Vanya's...anyone that would help him, bring him to Ben so he could fix it before it was too late. No familiar faces showed, just an eye-full of pissed off strangers, one of which shoved a needle in his arm.
The drug swept through his system like a torrent, warming his blood and feeding to his muscles which relaxed against his will. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and he couldn't tell if he was even saying words anymore or just hysterical noises that tapered off to broken whimpers.
He thought he could see another commotion happening just outside his curtained area as his vision started to blur once more; thought he saw Diego struggling against arms, yelling and throwing a punch. Thought he saw tears…
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The corner of the couch had become his spot. Not because of any kind of territorial crusade or anything, but rather the other patients simply took a wide berth to him, as if they sensed the power within him, the veil of death; as if they knew what he'd done.
He didn't care.
That was the general theme for him now, not caring. He couldn't if he wanted to, which he didn't. It had been four days since he'd murdered his brother. Any hope of trying to return Ben's spirit to his body was obliterated; necrosis would've settled in. Even if there had been a small, internal voice that wanted him to consider the possibility of his siblings somehow managing to keep Ben's body alive, Klaus knew it was bogus. If they'd managed to keep his body alive, where were his siblings? Why was he still here, locked away in the hospitals psych ward? Why weren't they helping him save Ben?
He was there because he'd killed Ben, there was no hope of correction and his siblings didn't want anything to do with him anymore. Good for them. About time. He'd have dumped his ass off years ago if he'd had the choice. He'd tried on several occasions, but even the powers that be, it seemed, didn't want him. He'd thought it was luck for a long time, until that day in the club when he'd met his maker...well, then again, even she hadn't been certain if she'd made him or not. A screw-up from conception...Klaus Hargreeves.
If he had any of his faculties about him, he would've chuckled, or smirked, blinked...something. As it stood, the medications they shoved into him seemed to rob him of any inkling of emotional response. He spent most of his day in the corner of the worn, lumpy couch, knees to his chest with his arms tucked behind them, staring at the carpet with dark bruising along one side of his face and languid blinks every now and then.
That was how he'd found him.
Ben crouched in front of him, looking up at him with his dark, soulful, apologetic eyes. "It's okay," he said, but Klaus knew it wasn't. Ben was too forgiving, too good...he deserved better. Klaus would ignore him until he went away, until he became so frustrated he'd move on to whatever came next. It had to be better than hanging around your murdering fuck-up of a brother.
"Klaus," Ben softly tried again, trying to get him to focus more clearly. "We're getting you out of here."
He still didn't respond, wasn't even sure if he could; his mouth felt glued shut. He settled with a tiny shake of his head which had Ben's brow scrunching with concern and shifting so he sat facing him on the couch.
"Hey, look at me," Ben reached forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. The hand rested on his shoulder. Didn't pass through it or hover or leave him with a chill. It was solid and warm and gently squeezed.
Klaus felt his face crumble as burning heat pressed against his eyes and the massive relief that hit him like a train was quickly drowned with overwhelming guilt and shame. Ben was alive. He didn't know how, but he was alive. He was here and he was alive and he was suddenly looking very heart-broken.
He was pretty sure he was shaking as Ben's warm hand moved to his neck and he leaned in closer. "I'm okay, Klaus," he whispered. "You did it. You pulled me back. I was barely gone for a minute."
Klaus hated that his brother could speak about only being dead for a minute - as if that were okay, as if it were a forgivable offense. He could hear gasping and realized it was him, hyperventilating. He suddenly had a burst of speed as he scrambled over the armrest of the couch, tumbling to the floor and knocking over a chair as he did so. Ben was there in a heartbeat, trying to help.
Klaus knew he'd yelled something at him in the way Ben had suddenly hesitated, confused and concerned. Klaus continued yelling and clambered backwards, uncoordinated arms and loose legs sending him into other patients who cried out and shoved at him.
"No!" Klaus finally managed something sensible when Ben moved to help again. "Not going back. I'm not going back! Go away!" he ended loudly just before a couple of large, muscular men appeared and dragged him to his room, screaming I'm not going back.
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Diego was the next one to visit him. He'd been in the ward four days but after his breakdown with Ben, they'd moved him to the long term ward where they stuck the super crazy ones that had to be confined to their locked rooms with nothing in them but a mattress, some blankets, a toilet and a caged camera that never turned off. Klaus' sudo-bed was in the corner and allowed him to see through a low window behind an iron cage.
The doctor's had upped his meds and added stronger ones; ones that let you know they weren't messing around. Ones that changed your brain chemistry, that removed all feeling and made the world seem detached and...less.
He thought he hadn't cared before...now the space whale could have fallen from the sky and he would simply watch it's descent with zero emotional response and a simple thought of there it is. That was what Diego had been unfortunate enough to walk in on.
He didn't know it was him with the way he sat tucked into the corner, head leant against the wall, eyes glued to the blurry haze outside. He'd heard the pacing footsteps though after security locked the door behind his brother. Clearly Diego had things to say but was too worked up to get them out.
Finally his mattress dipped a bit and Diego sat opposite him, legs crossed. Klaus felt his eyes blink languidly but didn't feel compelled to break from the vacant stare with outside.
"So," Diego hedged, scratching at his head, "Ben wanted to make sure you knew he's very much alive. You didn't kill him-"
"Yes I did," Klaus' voice was emotionless and flat.
"Okay," Diego nodded in consent. "But you also saved him. So there's that."
"I'm not going back."
"Ben filled us in on everything," he forged on, ignoring the soft-spoken declaration. "No one blames you...for any of it. Except for the underwear; that I'm holding you accountable for." There was a long pause. "You hearing me, bro?" Diego's warm hand lightly wrapped around his ankle, giving it a small squeeze. "Klaus, look at me."
When he didn't, his brother grabbed his chin and pulled his attention by force, not that Klaus put up any kind of resistance. He blinked slowly at him, waiting. Diego, for his part, was on a quest, searching for something in his eyes, a haze of grief surrounding him. Klaus didn't know what he was looking for, but he absently wished him luck.
"Look, whatever bullshit ideas you've got floating around in there," Diego lightly tapped a finger against Klaus' forehead, "you can just forget it." Diego's eyes hardened a bit. "You're not something we need protection from, Klaus," he declared firmly. "So if you want to hang around this dump that's fine," he sneered. "But don't for one second believe it's because it's what's best for us."
Diego stormed out shortly after that when Klaus continued to blink back emotionlessly.
Vanya returned the next day. Klaus was starting to think maybe the ward had a one visitor a day policy. Her approach was different. She'd climbed onto the mattress and pressed up against him, mimicking his position after grabbing his hand and twining their fingers together. They sat like that for a while, staring out the window.
A knock later sounded on the door and Vanya sat up a bit, her allotted time obviously coming to a close. She turned so she was kneeling next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulder and head. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and then whispered that she loved him and to come home soon.
The next day brought another visitor and he'd be lying if he didn't feel a small inkling of surprise at their arrival. Luther awkwardly climbed onto the mattress, sitting opposite him much like Diego had, only the mattress dipped heavily beneath him. The minuscule sense of surprise was enough to have him turning his head a bit to watch his large brother stare back at him uncomfortably.
"Ben wanted to come again, but um...well," Luther's puppy eyes roamed around, heavy with concern. "I thought maybe it was time I um...apologized," Luther caught his gaze. "I haven't been a very good leader and...an even worse brother."
Luther's head dipped to his own lap, his gloved fingers pulling at a loose thread. "You needed help and I was too wrapped up in my own issues," he sighed. "I blamed everything on your drug habit and ignored all the shit dad was putting the rest of you through."
Luther looked up again. "For that, I'm sorry."
He shifted on the bed again. "Things are different now. We're all different. We should be together as a family." He lifted a hand, hesitated but then rested it on Klaus' bare foot. "Come home, Klaus."
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The familiar ripping of space and time echoed through the hollow room. He didn't have to look to see who it was; only one person in the world could get in and out of the room without using the door...well, living person anyways. He sighed and rolled his eyes but didn't bother greeting his brother, choosing instead to continue his lithium hazed stare out of the room's barred window, his forehead leant against the cool concrete wall as he sat huddled in the corner.
"Klaus," Five greeted casually, and Klaus just knew his brother had slipped his hands into his pockets and was leisurely moseying toward the bed.
He sighed deeply, completely numb and not in a good way either. "What do you want?" he asked softly.
"How are you doing?"
"Like I told the others, I'm staying." Despite having been staring out of the window for the better part of a week, he really couldn't pinpoint any particular thing he'd actually seen. His brain just felt like a bowl of mush that was slowly leaking out of his ears; his limbs felt like rubber but weighed down by anvils; and every time he thought he was about to have an emotion of some kind - any kind start to pop it's head up, it was like the anti-psychotics suddenly took a head-shot and the emotion dropped away into nothingness.
He'd had a visitor every day and yet he'd never in his life felt more alone.
And he knew he deserved so much worse. Which was saying something considering all the shit he'd pulled throughout his life; drug user, prostitution, thief, public displays of disorderly conduct, disorderly conduct. He supposed in retrospect, he really hadn't been that terrible before he'd tacked on homicidal psychopath. Go figure. Now with the amount of heavy drugs they kept him pumped full of, he hadn't seen an undead much less heard them since he'd been checked in, kicking and screaming and overall maniacally suicidal.
Through all the muddled thoughts and memories, there was one belief that remained clear and true and at the forefront at all times...he couldn't go home. No matter how much Ben and Diego and Vanya and Luther and apparently now Five assured him it was okay - it wasn't okay. And yeah, maybe it hadn't 100% been his fault...but it had been him, his power, his id. Whether someone else had made him a catalyst or not, he'd nearly killed his family.
He understood Vanya's timidness now, her guilty glances, her desire to speak but drowned out by her feeling of unworthiness. She deserved better though. Vanya had a good heart and wanted to be better. Klaus...he was just too damn tired and too frayed thin to care. He didn't see himself climbing out of the pit this time...no sense dragging the family through what would inevitably end in his unremarkable death, if the powers that be would grant him even that.
Suddenly Five was crouching on the bed, face right in front of his own and studying him critically. "What the hell did they give you?"
Klaus couldn't even find the will to respond and just sighed and looked out the window once more. Had he not been drowning in nothingness, he might've actually felt surprised when a small hand brushed against his head and rested just behind his ear.
"I'm not here to convince you to come back." And just like that, Klaus' world shifted and he tipped over as he found himself sitting on a large blanket spread out on the grass in the Hargreeves mansion courtyard. Five sat comfortably next to him, smug smile on his face as he picked up a mug of coffee that sat waiting for him. "That's her job."
Suddenly piano music filled the courtyard, a soft, romantic tune Klaus was quite familiar with. He slowly pushed himself up to a seated position, his eyes drawn to the small girl who slow walked across the yard in what was undoubtedly one of her mom's old academy outfits, only the skirt had been replaced with a flared rainbow tutu and the sweater vest had been covered with gold shimmery fringe that sparkled in the sunlight. Her dark hair was pulled into two mouse-ear buns, her face painted perfectly with makeup and her fingernails shone brightly with blue polish.
She was beautiful.
As the lyrics filled the courtyard, Claire twirled and performed the practiced movements that complimented the meaning behind the words. It had been such a cheesy 80's love song that Klaus had known would drive his siblings bonkers but would be forced to sit through because it was their niece and they were bound by obligation. Even the movements they'd come up with had been super cheesy but now he couldn't help but feel completely drawn in and riveted by the lilting piano and the little girl putting every last bit of herself into the coordinated dance as if she were a Broadway master and she knew it.
Suddenly Ben appeared in full tuxedo and hair slicked back. With a gentle smile he walked across to Claire who twirled around him and suddenly they were doing the moves together and in tandem. Claire had obviously taught him Klaus' part and taught him well. Even the laughable and silly moves he did which kind of blew Klaus' mind. His brother had always been the best of them, soft-hearted, loyal, honest, loving, trustworthy - he was an honest to god good person. But center of attention...not his forte by any means. And yet there Ben was, performing a coordinated dance for the entire family to the sweet voices of Air Supply and with a smile that made it clear it was his honor.
Claire suddenly jumped into Ben's hands who lifted her and swung her around beautifully. For the first time in what felt like forever, Klaus felt his chest turn heavy with emotion as warmth filled him and his eyes misted over.
Claire made sweeping gestures with her hands against Ben's face, so tenderly innocent with her understanding of love and expression. As the song turned more into the classic 80's rock ballad, the moves became more cheesy with air guitars and well known dance moves from famous movies including a few dirty moves that Klaus had known would make her mom cringe.
Claire's movements were messy, overdone, and imperfect, everything you'd expect from a little girl...Klaus couldn't tear his eyes away. To him she was breathtaking and perfect.
Unexpectedly, Claire pirouetted right up to him with a beaming smile and opened one hand in front of his face which had HELLO written on it in marker followed by the other hand which said STAY.
Throat suddenly tight with an un-swallowable lump, he looked up into her dark, joyful eyes and could feel a few hot tears burning down his cheeks. He drew in a shaky breath, smiled, and in a hoarse, airy voice told her, "You...were magnificent."
She giggled excitedly and then fell into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging for all she was worth. He hugged back, burying his face as he was flooded with feeling and emotion and all the things that he'd thought were dead within him.
Claire pulled back with a softer smile this time and wiped at his tears. "I love you Séance."
"I love you little witch."
And just like that the other siblings which had been behind, watching, sat on the large blanket with heaping plates of food in hand that Grace had prepared. Diego took the other seat next to Klaus, first wrapping his arms around his brother and pulling him in, refusing to let go as Klaus felt the damn of emotions break free. He sobbed into his brother's neck, silently but for the gasps and hiccups of air. After a long moment, Klaus finally nodded, having regained enough composure to be able to face his family once more. Diego mussed his hair gently playful before giving Klaus a small elbow-shove toward a plate.
Not once did anyone mention the traumatic events of the last week nor the possibility of Klaus going back to the hospital. As if his return home had already been set in stone by the little pipsqueak that sat across from him between Allison and Luther, elatedly biting into a cupcake with candy pearls on top.
Klaus didn't socialize, wasn't sure if he could at that point. He felt completely drained and wrecked and yet...home. It was such a simple word, home. And yet it intertwined with so much meaning and feeling. His entire life he'd believed most of it to be bad. But now, as his tired gaze drifted over his siblings, his family, he couldn't help but see home in a new light.
Vanya and Five conversed about some news report they thought was bogus; Claire captured Allison and Luther's attention with the latest gossip in grade school and Grace instructed Diego on how to impress a certain female cop with fine dining. That left Ben, who was already watching Klaus when he met his gaze. Ben gave him a small, knowing grin, trusting Klaus to read between the lines.
He did. And he returned it with the smallest of grins back, the best he could muster at that time. The picnic didn't last too long. Just long enough for everyone to have their fill and for Klaus, utterly physically and emotionally exhausted, to list sideways into Diego, his eyes drooping against his will.
Diego and Ben helped him upstairs while the others cleaned up. He dropped into his bed and didn't remember much after that. He certainly didn't remember Vanya checking in, pulling his comforter over him and pressing a kiss to his forehead, or Ben camping out on a bean bag in the corner of the room, reading a book.
He wasn't sure how long he was out for but he woke up feeling quite raw which, all things considering, was better than waking up in the state of nothingness he'd been in the last week. He found himself blinking up at the ceiling, thoughts less hazy than earlier now that some of the medications were starting to wear off. It also left him with a raging headache.
"There's some aspirin there along with something Pogo whipped up to help wean you off of the psych medications." Ben's voice was gentle as always but Klaus could tell he was speaking extra soft as if he knew.
Klaus sighed as he turned onto his side, picking up the aspirin and the glass of dark, purplish sludge. Great, he grimaced, imagining the upcoming detox he would undoubtedly have to suffer through once more. And it hadn't even been his fault this time. Well...technically; he had been the one to lose his shit on everyone but it had been the doctors that had force fed him the drugs this time.
He dry swallowed the aspirin and then took a wary sip of the liquid and immediately scowled, barely able to swallow it. "Ugh, what is in this?"
Ben had an empathetic grimace as well, secretly glad he wasn't the one having to drink it. "No idea, but he said you need to down all of it for it to have any effect."
Klaus sighed dejectedly as he stared at the liquid. "I suppose I've downed worse," he offered and then drank the entire glass in one go. There was a tense period of about thirty seconds where the two waited expectantly for Klaus to suddenly lean over the bed and puke it all up. Klaus eventually just hummed and rolled onto his back to resume staring at the ceiling.
The room dropped back into silence once more for a while. Ben almost picked his book back up, however his patience paid off as his brother's lilting, tired voice drifted over to him. "How does that work? How do you make something out of nothing at all?"
Ben smirked softly. "That's a question for the eighties."
It got really quiet again and Ben knew the mood had shifted; could read it in the way his brother breathed, the way he sat so still staring at the ceiling.
"I thought I was dead," Klaus confessed softly. "I mean...I've never felt so...empty. Before all of this, I'd do anything to feel numb. After though...it felt like every last shred of life had been drained from me. That maybe I was finally allowed to die and that was what hell was you know? Just...trapped with your own sense of nothingness. Knowing you're completely worthless and yet so numbed and devoid of anything you can't even find it within yourself to care."
Ben sat unmoving, just listening. He remembered every last moment of his time as a spirit walking among the living. There were times he'd find himself slipping between realities, where he'd suddenly be in the same world but void of living...just a lot of dead carrying on as if they were still alive. He never remained long in the other reality, usually just long enough for Klaus to realize his absence and suddenly he was back. It was a confusing, hazy place for certain, but nothing like Klaus had experienced which convinced him his brother hadn't actually died again. He wasn't sure if that was a reassuring thought or not.
"The things I did- whether fully cognizant or not," he amended as if sensing Ben's instinctive need to defend him, "I did them, it was me. And when it was all said and done, I couldn't even be bothered to care. I just felt," his hand swept through the air, "...nothing."
Klaus stilled for a moment and his voice took on it's usual airy lilt. "Until a little 6 year old girl with anime buns executed the world's most god-awful running man I've ever seen."
Ben smirked and tried to contain his snicker, not wanting to derail his brother's unusually outspoken introspection. Yes, his brother was habitually a talker, words just fell out of him like an arterial bleed, shooting everywhere, freaking everyone out and often staining. Klaus had been wounded deeply as a kid, hell they all had. But his brother had continued bleeding with a constant stream of words, complaints, sarcasm, whining, excuses...all symptoms of the bigger problem. And they all complained to him about it, that he never shut up, never grew up, never stopped this and never stopped that...but no one stopped to address the wound itself. Certainly not Klaus. He'd turned to self-medication instead.
Not that Ben blamed his siblings, they'd all had issues they were dealing with and Klaus certainly hadn't made it easy. To hear him talk so openly without a joke or pun or something to lessen the gravity of the wound...it was jarring, but not unwelcome.
"It was like a switch had been flipped and suddenly...I could feel again. How is it a little afro-pixie can create life out of nothingness?"
Ben drew in a deep, contemplative breath and stared at the spot on the ceiling Klaus seemed riveted to. "Maybe Air Supply really are just a pair of prophetic rock gods."
"No, you're thinking of Freddie Mercury."
It was Ben's turn to grow quiet, watching his brother's still form. "Give us a chance, Klaus. We're not perfect, but...we're trying." He could see his brother's moss-green eyes roam the ceiling a bit in consideration.
"I almost killed my family," he muttered quietly.
Ben nodded. "Kind of turning into a Hargreeves tradition at this point; starting with dad."
That seemed to break Klaus from whatever dark tunnel he'd been headed down as the smallest of grins pulled at the corner of his mouth. "You nearly murdered all of us with that poorly executed moonwalk."
"That moonwalk would've popped Madonna's cherry."
Ben silently congratulated himself as Klaus snorted and broke into a wide smile at the ridiculousness of his brother's statement. It was such a rare occurrence that Ben withdrew genuine laughter from Klaus. His brother was so quick witted and had perfected sarcasm and random humor that he often found himself simply trailing behind, playing catch up.
"I miss this," this Klaus sighed.
Ben smiled and couldn't have been more genuine in his response. "Me too."
...tbc
