I could say it, but you won't believe me

You say you do, but you don't deceive me

It's hard to know they're out there

It's hard to know that you still care

I could say it but you won't believe me

You say you do but you don't deceive me

Dead hearts are everywhere

Dead hearts are everywhere

/

"Dead Hearts" by Stars

"I spy with my little eye, something that starts with the letter 't'."

Vanya looks at Klaus through the rearview mirror. He's scrunched tightly in the backseat, his long legs tucked up underneath him. "Is—is it a tree?" she guesses, because there's literally nothing else it could be.

"Fuck yeah, it's a tree," Klaus answers, sounding very excited about the whole thing. Allison doesn't take her eyes off the road but snorts a soft little laugh.

Vanya allows a small smile. The forest rushes past them on both sides, a monotonous swirl of pale greens and browns. It's around eight in the morning, cold and misty, and the new leaves budding on the trees are probably still encased in frost from the night before.

Klaus shifts noisily, and Vanya glances back at him again. He's been antsy for the past fifteen minutes or so. He always was quick to get restless. "We'll be there soon," she assures him before he can start whining.

He sighs dramatically and throws himself back against the headrest. "Why do we have to be out in the middle of nowhere for this?"

Vanya briefly resents the absence of Allison's voice, because she's getting tired of speaking for two, but that sentiment is of course quickly swallowed up by guilt. How easy it is to detach herself from the narratives of her siblings' lives. "It's so I don't accidentally kill anyone," she says, a bit snappishly. "You volunteered for this, you know."

Klaus smiles, small and sweet, like he's trying to soothe the nerves he's frayed. "And I wouldn't have it any other way, sister dear."

Despite the teasing lilt of his voice, Vanya does believe him. Over the past week he's jumped at every call to help with her training and been denied every time. They were all so scared of her at first, and Klaus's power would be entirely useless if he needed to protect himself from her—at least, that was Luther's reasoning. After Klaus's incessant needling and a week of no incidents, he finally gave in.

Vanya can't help but feel suspicious of her wayward brother's intentions. He's been so quiet and reclusive recently, spending most of his time at the library or in his room—or, sometimes, working with Allison on learning sign language. He doesn't seem unhappy, and Vanya is relatively certain he's sober. Maybe he really does just have a vested interest in her progress.

Vanya wishes she could believe that. She wishes her immediate instinct wasn't to distrust these people she's known her entire life. But they don't trust her, either, and though they've all been getting along (mostly) fine she doubts they'll ever truly understand one another. Too much time apart, too different in their experiences and traumas, too much blame to go around.

She shakes herself from her spiralling thoughts when she sees the sign announcing their usual campground. "This is it," she tells Klaus just as Allison starts slowing down so they don't miss the overgrown entrance. Diego scouted this place out specifically for their purposes—it's isolated, quiet, and completely devoid of people at this time of year. Perfect for training someone with apocalypse-causing capabilities.

They pull into the campground, which is really just a small dirt parking lot bordered by uniform campsites and several hiking trails which wind off into the woods. There's a single log cabin situated at the entrance, which is presumably where the site manager stays during the busy season. Klaus practically bolts from his seat when Allison parks them at the far edge of the lot. Vanya shares an exasperated glance with Allison before they exit the car.

Klaus stretches his arms and legs in long, exaggerated movements, prompting Vanya to realize that the black leather boots he's wearing have quite the heel on them. It's endearing, strangely, to see where his mind goes when he's told to wear something practical. At least he's wearing a warm coat. "C'mon, we're going this way," Vanya says, motioning to the hiking trail that veers sharply to the left and then downhill.

The three of them begin their trek down the thin winding trail with Allison leading and Klaus taking up the rear. The frost has mostly burned off the plants by now, leaving the undergrowth springy and glimmering with water droplets. High above them the canopy is filled with the wheedling chatter of migrating songbirds, and the sunlight through the leaves throws dappled shadows all down the path. This is an old growth forest, with gigantic trees as wide around as four Luthers and only the scant plant life that can survive in dim light.

It's beautiful, and peaceful, and is different enough from the places Leonard took her to not start the spark of panic burning in her gut. It helps to be here with Allison, who has become such a steady fixture of support and guidance that her very presence is enough to set Vanya's mind at ease. Through all the tension and discomfort of the past week, and the horrible events leading up to it, at least she knows she has one ally—and a valuable one at that. Even without her voice, Allison is listened to. Vanya wonders what that's like.

She grimaces a bit even as the thought enters her head. She feels everything so deeply these days, ever since she stopped taking her medication. While sometimes it's nice to experience the world so vividly, mostly she gets caught up in her negative emotions, which have never felt quite so raw. Bitterness is always lurking just under the surface of her psyche.

The path begins to get rockier and steeper underfoot. Vanya hears Klaus's boots scrabbling for purchase behind her, but somehow he manages to stay upright—or, if he does fall, he's quiet about it, which seems extremely unlikely. Actually, now that she thinks about it, he's been awfully quiet this whole time. She glances over her shoulder at him and very nearly rams straight into Allison, who has stopped walking completely to look at their brother. She looks concerned. She signs something, slow and deliberate but still incomprehensible to Vanya's untrained eyes.

Klaus raises his eyebrows, looks at Vanya and then at Allison again. "Who, me? Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You haven't said anything in a while," Vanya chimes in.

Klaus smiles, and it's soft and delighted and kind of adorable. "It's just so quiet out here."

Vanya frowns, confused, and looks to Allison, whose face has brightened with tentative understanding. She signs again, and Vanya can at least read the questioning slant of her body language.

"Yeah, almost no ghosts," Klaus breathes, and Vanya isn't any less confused. Perhaps her understanding of Klaus's power is a bit lacking. It's not like he talks about it, and if he did, he'd never dream of doing so with Number Seven. Klaus shakes himself a bit then, like he's decided he's been unobtrusive for too long. "Alright, let's get going!" He sidesteps them and takes the lead down the path, leaving Vanya to stare at Allison. Allison bites her lip, considering, but eventually shrugs and motions for the two of them to follow Klaus.

Vanya can understand that, she supposes. It's not Allison's story to tell. Her curiosity will have to wait. While writing her book, she had been careful to not be too presumptuous in her understanding of her siblings' abilities. She doesn't know much about the finer details of most of their powers and she doesn't purport to. Still, she's starting to consider that she knows even less than she thought.

She falls back into step with her siblings and lets her thoughts wander for the last few minutes of the walk. Finally, she sees Klaus stop up ahead where the land suddenly drops out. He looks back at Allison and Vanya as they both come up behind him. "How come Vanya gets like, the coolest training spot imaginable? Completely unfair."

Vanya snorts, but she has to agree that it's pretty damn cool. They're standing on the edge of a cliff that hangs out over a broad, languid river far below. Off to the side is a small rocky path that will take them down below the cliff. There are rocks around the edge of the cliff that seem very precariously perched, and Vanya sometimes feels the childish desire to push them down into the river. "You haven't seen the coolest part yet," she says, starting down the steep ledge with her siblings in tow.

The trail brings them to just underneath where they stood, where the river's seasonal flooding has carved out an open hollow beneath the cliff's overhang. It's a broad, shallow, semi-circular cave that looks out on the water, walls worn smooth by decades of erosion. Multicolored striations of limestone give the arena-like space an ancient, untouched feel, like they're looking upon a cross-section of Earth's history. Klaus whistles appreciatively. "How did Diego find this place again?"

Vanya shrugs. "He said he used to come here with someone, and he had to scout it out again because he wasn't sure it would work. But it's perfect." Besides its seclusion, the spot is ideal because the cave's acoustics allow Vanya to quickly single in on a noise—like the river, or someone's voice—and channel her power effectively. It's like a tuning fork, or a lightning rod, or a metronome. It's like the Earth itself wants to help her direct her abilities. She explains it the best she can to Klaus, who is tracing his hand over the smooth stone wall but obviously listening intently.

"Huh," Klaus says, and he looks out across the water with something approaching wonder on his face. "How cool is that."

Klaus and Allison get settled sitting side-by-side on a low rock just outside the lip of the cave while Vanya begins her starting exercises. Though she can see her siblings out of the corner of her eye, she can't really hear them—or hear Klaus, rather. The river is loud in her ears even though its path is calm, and the sounds of the forest on the other side are amplified. Anything not directly in front of her is quiet, muffled, and easy to block out. She begins with evening her breathing, letting the soothing noises of the river wash over her, so her power can rise up out of her from a place of contentment, not fear or rage.

This was the first thing she and Five had worked on, that first day of training—just breathing, letting herself forget her bitterness and misery for long enough to feel at peace. She thinks Five may have experience with these exercises himself. She tries not to think about him, alone in the apocalypse, struggling to talk himself down from a panic attack and breathe even though he was just choking on ashes. He's never said anything like that happened, but she likes to think she still understands him after all these years.

Vanya works for a long time on the simplest of her abilities, making the leaves on the other side of the river rustle and splashing pebbles into the river. She watches her siblings out of the corner of her eye, too—they're working on sign language, as they do so often, and both are smiling like whatever silent conversation they're having is absolutely delightful. A wave of jealousy too sudden to be contained rattles the stone walls around her, and she's thrown from her headspace of stillness.

She resents her siblings and their comparative closeness with one another, the easy camaraderie they've slipped back into when her only confidant was taken away from her and has returned old and broken. Part of her understands that none of them were truly at fault for the way they treated her—their father encouraged her ostracisation. They all suffered under him. Still, she can't silence the voice in her head that screams she had it the worst, that they let her be treated that way, that they were complicit. It's all terrifying and not true but she doesn't know how to convince herself of that.

When finally she manages to calm down, the rocks are still creaking around her but have mercifully stilled. An angry wind through the trees and a fitful ripple through the water are the only visible signs of Vanya's near lapse in control. She looks over to see Klaus and Allison staring at her. Allison is grimacing, having seen Vanya nearly flip her lid a few times now, but Klaus looks somewhere between terrified and fascinated. "You good?" Klaus asks, his shoulders shaking with a nervous laugh.

"Fine," she snaps. She doesn't want to talk about it, so she tries to get back in her headspace and continue, but Klaus interrupts the process.

"Okay, so—correct me if I'm wrong, please—but isn't it a good thing for you to get angry while you do this?" Vanya glares at him and thinks about how easy it would be to shove him off his perch. "Wait, hear me out. You're supposed to be learning how to control your powers, right, and just kind of feeling them out is a good start, but don't you think that more like—exposure therapy will help out in the long run?"

Vanya thinks about it for a moment, but anxiety makes her shake her head. "No, I don't like that idea," she answers. "I don't want to be forced into controlling them, I've had enough of that."

Allison nods thoughtfully, and Klaus smiles. "Fair enough, carry on!"

Vanya isn't sure she'll ever quite get used to people listening to her or acquiescing to her wishes. She doesn't spare it too much thought out of fear of breaking down and returns to her training with renewed vigor. She manages to block her siblings out again and this time keep them that way for what feels to be several hours but may be longer. She tries to not even look in their direction, not wanting to give in again to her negative emotions.

Eventually, she registers Klaus standing quite close beside her. He seems reluctant to interrupt but also unsure of what he would be interrupting. Vanya sighs and allows the rest of the world to come back to her slowly, filtering in through the dilated pinprick of her expanding consciousness. "What's up?"

"Oh, good, you're awake. Come sit with me?" he gestures to the rock, now enticingly lit by bright late morning sunlight. Allison isn't sitting there anymore.

"Where did Allison go?" Vanya asks, panic beginning to set it. Allison hasn't been out of her sight much at all this past week.

"She—whoa, hey, Vanya, it's okay," Klaus lays a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her where she has begun to sway. Even doing lower-effort exercises with her powers tends to leave her exhausted if she does them for long enough. "Come on, you need to sit down," he guides her gently to the sun-warmed rock, where she plops down gratefully. "Allison is fine, she went back to the car to grab lunch. She said you should've taken a break ages ago but you seemed really into it today."

Vanya shrugs, not sure what to say in response. "I was," a pause, "really into it, I mean."

Klaus hums and steps around to sit on the other side of her. He presses his arm against hers and she leans into the proffered pillar of support. As skinny as he is, he's steady and the black fabric of his jacket is warm. "Is it fun? You should be having fun, you deserve it."

Vanya giggles and leans her head on his shoulder. He really can be sweet. That's how he was when they were all very little, so nurturing and empathetic it was like having a second mother. "Yes, it's fun, but only when I'm sure I'm in control."

"Huh," Klaus tenses the slightest bit, "can't relate."

Vanya lifts her head just enough to see the underside of his clenched jaw. If he doesn't want to talk about it, why should he? "I wasn't going to ask," Vanya ventures, hoping she doesn't sound too defensive. She's curious, of course—is he really never in control of his power? Are the dead really always with him?

"I know you weren't," Klaus says. He sounds nervous. "But I'd like to talk to you about it, if that's okay."

She takes one of his hands and holds it in both of her own. She doesn't know him well, didn't even when they were kids. He wasn't needlessly cruel to her, but he was indifferent, and after Ben's death he was practically absent from her life. The distance between them aside, she loves him dearly, and she feels equal parts honored and shocked that he wants to confide in her. Another traitorous part of her is suspicious and angry and bitter as always, but it's easy to ignore this time. "I'm listening."

He sighs, and the hand in her grasp shakes. "It's—I'm not sure you want to hear it, actually. It'll put a pretty big plothole in your book."

Vanya snorts. "If you want to talk, I want to listen."

"Okay," he breathes, no quip ready. "Okay, uh. So. I can see dead people."

"This I know," she teases, just to urge him along.

"This you know," he agrees, "but the thing is, I see them all the time. They're everywhere." His hand is clammy in her own but she just squeezes it tighter. "And they're—horrible. They're angry and scared and they scream about it and scream at me for not being able to help them, and they say some pretty awful things. And they look how they did when they died, which can be, you know, horrific."

Vanya is at a loss, completely unsure of her footing. "And you've—always been able to see them?"

"Since I was around five, I think," he answers. His voice is very unsteady now and she hears him swallow several times. She wishes she could see his face but thinks he probably prefers it this way.

"There's nothing you can do to make them go away?" the horror in her voice seeps in of its own volition. She can barely imagine the things he's describing. Her mind conjures images of gruesomely maimed corpses hounding her brother when he was little more than a baby, screaming in his ears and begging for help he couldn't give. She feels sick.

Klaus takes a long time to answer. "The drugs were the only thing that helped," he whispers eventually.

Vanya thinks about that and tears start pricking at the corners of her eyes before she's fully processed what he's said. "Oh," she says. "Oh, Klaus."

He's right that this does put a pretty major plothole in her book, where she basically said he turned to drugs when he lost all the attention that childhood superstardom had lavished upon him. The knowledge that she had been so very wrong—and that he had never said otherwise—tugs violently at her heart. She doesn't know what to do with this new knowledge, besides maybe find somewhere dark and quiet to cry.

He shifts uncomfortably, but she holds fast to their every point of contact. She can't let him pull away from her again. He clears his throat and then is quiet. Somewhere out in the forest a pileated woodpecker drums its quick staccato beat on a tree. "What you said earlier—about not wanting to be forced into using your powers. I can relate to that. And some of the other stuff that happened to you."

For a long time Vanya was under the impression that her siblings would never be able to understand what she went through, and the last vestiges of that conviction make themselves known now in a wave of anger. She can tamp it down easy enough, but it's unsettling, and she can't quite help her disbelieving inflection when she asks "what do you mean?"

"Well, I—Dad, uh," Klaus grinds his teeth and shifts again. "Sorry. I haven't ever really talked about this."

That's a startling revelation. Vanya stares straight ahead and tells herself she can think more about the implications of that when she's alone.

Klaus takes a hissing breath through his clenched teeth. The woodpecker pauses in its search for food, like it's giving Klaus the stage. "So, I saw the dead all the time, and I was terrified—which, I mean, is pretty understandable, I think. But Dad wanted to fix that, so I could actually try to communicate with them. And he thought the best way to fix me was to take me to the cemetery and throw me in a mausoleum."

He's breathing harshly, and Vanya presses her cheek harder against his shoulder. Their surroundings are quiet and peaceful and warm in juxtaposition with the cold pit forming in her stomach. The woodpecker is working at its tree again and its strikes are ringing in Vanya's ears.

"It was dark, and cold, and he kept me in there for hours at a time. Days, sometimes, if I managed to really piss him off. The ghosts inside were ancient and, I don't know, I think they just went insane because all they did was scream—"

Vanya doesn't hear the rest, and in fact barely registers anything beyond that first sentence. Suddenly she's back in the basement, phasing between her child and adult selves, so desperate to be free and feeling so alone and cold and so afraid of herself. The world is whipping around her and all she hears is the distant insistent tapping that echoes through the woods and swirls through her head. The body she is clinging to lurches, in fear or in pain, but she can't bring herself to care.

She knows where she is, sort of, but at the same time she can see her reflection in the glass and watches her breath fog it over. She sees her siblings turn away from her one by one to leave her alone with the fear of her youth, the injustice she alone had to bear. The rage builds and builds and is stoked by residual terror and the world shakes beneath her in time with the drumming in the trees.

Whatever she is holding rips away from her, leaves her untethered, then shoves her away. She falls to the ground and the impact shakes something within her, brings her back a bit—and then the earth roils all over again. She can't hear much beyond a distant ringing but she knows whatever just happened was loud and that there was a scream, too, that cut off and dissipated in the air.

Her vision swims as she sits up, achingly slow. The rock she sat at is gone. She blinks, shakes her head, and comes to understand that it is buried underneath a pile of loose rocks torn from the cliff. Her fingers clench in the rocky soil under her. She sits there, shocked and uncomprehending, until her eyes land on the half-buried, dust-covered body lying motionless beneath the rubble.