The children's first mission was to be within a month, that and their formal introduction to the public masses.
And Klaus had just broken his jaw.
What Sir Reginald told the children was that his boy fell down the stairs, a botched attempt at waltzing around in Graces heels. Klaus seemed to be more upset by the cover story than what had happened, oddly enough. "its insulting they think id honestly fall in those heels," he had written, the tension that was usually curled around the boy in a faux embrace no where to be found. "at most those heels were two inches, daddy needs to get better at these stories"
Pogo let himself smile, the cameras in the room wouldn't be able to pick up on what was written (- a relief to him, he loved Sir Reginald dearly, but he didn't want to let his master take away what little freedoms the children had. He wouldn't stand by for that
"But you'd stand by what Reginald did to Vanya?" The ghost of his mother had whispered in the back of his mine, disappointment lay heavy in her non-existent voice. "I raised you better, Pogo, I truly did."
Pogo ignored her)
"were bein introduced soon, right?" Pogo nodded, brushing a hand through his boys' curls.
"Less than a month." He had said, glancing at the ugly purple and yellow marring Klaus' jaw. Sir Reginald needed to be more careful next time he wanted to discipline his boy, no one liked to see him hurt to this extent. "I'm afraid your jaw will not be healed by then, though."
Klaus hummed, drumming the marker against the whiteboard for a moment, "there goes my one useful skill ig" Pogo tapped the boy's temple, a huff of laughter escaping him. "the publics gonna hafta suffer through the lack of charisma without me talking, but, its a sacrifice i'm willing to make"
"I do hope your siblings will manage without it," Pogo had said, voice light and low. "But to my knowledge, Miss Allison seems to be fairly adept with her words." Klaus blinked at him, his brows raised.
Klaus tapped his finger on the board for a moment, staring at him in silence before frantically scribbling. "how dare you"
"With ease, Master Klaus, with ease."
He got a marker to the head.
Ben was crying, washing away the blood that coated him in small trails, not enough to make a difference to the filth the boy was covered in. He was quiet, though, hiding his shaking hands in his pockets as Klaus stole small glances at him from where he was leaning on Five, the smallest hint of a frown pulling at his lips.
Pogo sighed, standing in front of the car out of view of the cameras. Sir Reginald had always been insistent on the children mastering their powers and getting over their fears, pushing Ben to use the Horrors until their own softness had been lost to the blood and the screams.
("The world is in danger, Pogo," Sir Reginald had told him, just as he told the cameras and the reporters. "I've seen one home end, I will not see another suffer the same fate." Pogo had nodded, moving to pour Sir Reginald another cup of tea, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder and his master's gaze leveled on him.
"Pogo, I need you to understand," he had said, his voice soft in a way that he never used on the children. "Please, tell me you know that I'm doing this for the worlds' safety- for the children's safety."
Pogo swallowed, heart in his throat as he stared at his master - his father, and nodded. "Of course, sir, I understand." Sir Reginald smiled, and Pogo ignored the guilt that laid heavy in his stomach each time the children were called for training.)
Slowly, the press dwindled, scattering about the scene as the children were directed back to the car with fading smiles. "Do y-ou have a tow-wel?" Diego had rested a hand on his shoulder, glancing back at the two hanging back on the curb. "Ben says h-he doesn't want to get the seat bloody."
Pogo hummed, opening the trunk and willing himself to not look at Ben, "Here you are, I suspected something like this would happen." Diego took the towel, a frown pulling at his lips as he glanced back at Ben - Klaus was trying his best to wash the blood off with a bottle of water someone gave him. Pogo smiled, thinking of Sir Reginalds gaze leveled on the children as they edited the bank, pride in his eyes as he walked to the cameras. "You all did wonderful, today."
Pogo watched as Klaus snuck into Five's room, his steps silent and careful despite the gloss to his eyes and rose tint to his cheeks. It was late, none of the children should be up but if he was going off of the empty bottle of whisky thrown into the trash, he'd say that Klaus had just gotten back from his training.
The two boys seemed to be close, Five often sought Klaus out when Sir Reginald wasn't willing to hear him out on his theories of time travel. Pogo had seen him grab at Klaus' sleeve, dragging him to a couch and pulling a notebook out, scribbling equations and waving his hands as he rambled about whatever was on his mind.
Klaus seemed content with it, occasionally chiming in with his quips or pointing out an error in an equation. There were times where he watched his boy drag Five over to where Diego and Ben were sitting, throwing a thin arm around one of his brothers with a loose smile and glossy eyes. He seemed to get along with his siblings,
("Even Vanya?" His mother would have asked, her eyes darting towards the girl in the corner. If she were here, Pogo would have watched with tired eyes as Klaus walked over to Vanya, his steps less graceful than they should have been,
"He tries." Is what he would have said.)
and for that, Pogo was grateful. It seemed as though the children viewed each other as competition, not the family Pogo and Grace tried to raise them as. Pogo remembered standing in the dark hallway for another moment or two, looking at the shut door with his lips pressed tight. The kids shouldn't have to go to each other after their training, or nightmares, or anything that keeps them up at night.
They should go to him, Grace, or even Sir Reginald (his master would pretend to hate it, a scowl on his face as one of the children shook him awake with tears in their eyes. But Pogo knew he wouldn't turn them away, moving to make room for them in the empty bed, just as he did for Pogo).
The door didn't open again, Pogo could hear the faint whispers and rustling of covers from where he stood, and he turned away with his throat burning with something he didn't like.
He should have Sir Reginald talk to them about it.
Pogo watched from the side as Klaus rolled a joint below the table, his hands shaking and eyes darting around the room as his last high faded. Pogo bit his tongue, with the silhouettes of the dead reappearing in Klaus' eyes were anything to go off of, Pogo wouldn't begrudge his boy for the self-medication.
The drawl of the radio and clinking of silverware filled the room, the kids not glancing up at each other from their seats. It was a sad sight he was accustomed to, and counted himself lucky that his meals weren't anything like this.
Five huffed out a frustrated breath, stabbing the table with a glint to his eyes. "I want to time travel." He had said, and Pogo bit back a sigh. Sir Reginald had explained this to the boy before - it was too risky, too many variables and things that could go wrong. A toss of dice that had ever changing values.
Five didn't listen to what Sir Reginald was saying, his brows furrowed as anger bled it's way into his tone (the boy always did have a problem with his temper, quick to provoke and slow to calm. It was a miracle he hadn't snapped at Sir Reginald already), demanding to be allowed to change the fabric of space.
Sir Reginald said no, and the table lapsed into silence. Five looked around the table, catching Klaus' gaze - the Séance shook his head, a mouthed 'I'm sorry' and Five stood. Spitting something at Sir Reginald as he dashed from the house.
Pogo froze, watching the boy disappear out the door with a heavy heart, but he stayed in the corner. Sir Reginald didn't tell him to do anything but observe, and Pogo was nothing but good at obeying.
Klaus had been fifteen when he had shaken Pogo awake in the early hours of the morning, his face pale and eyes glowing with a brilliant green. "Pogo," his boy had said, voice cracked and hushed. "Pogo wake up- please wake up." He remembered blinking at Klaus, sleep muddling his mind as he encircled his thin wrist in his palm.
"What is the matter, dear boy?" He had said,
"Ben-" Klaus had cut himself off with a sob, tugging at Pogo weakly. "Benny's gone, he's dead- I don't know-"
Pogo felt his breath stutter, something ugly crawling it's way up his throat as Klaus came apart at the seams. Ben- his child was dead, dead dead dead dead. Not like Five, not Five who ran away with promises of grandeur, who left a frail hope of his life behind.
"Take me to him," Pogo remembered saying, stumbling over his feet as he rushed after Klaus. Ben's door was open, a faint light shining in from his window and highlighting his limp silhouette on the floor. Pogo kneeled next to the boy, brushing his fingers under the tight rope on his neck to feel for a pulse.
He looked back over to Klaus, swallowing past the lump in his throat and blinking back the tears in his eyes, "Go wake your father."
The funeral was a sad affair, few words were spoken in the presence of Sir Reginald. The phrase on the statue (Ben would have hated that statue, he was never a fan of spotlight or having his pictures strewn everywhere) felt fake, the words stilted and forced and nothing like the mourning it was supposed to be.
He remembered Luther grabbing at Klaus' arm, his young eyes wide and desperate. "Klaus, is Ben-" he watched his boy suck in a breath, not taking his eyes off the ground. "Can you see him? Or, or summon him or something?" Klaus shook his head, mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Why not?" Allison had cut in, her voice cracked and pleading.
"I um," Klaus looked to the sky, his cheeks flushed with the slightest tint of pink and eyes carrying a barely there gloss. "I don't think you'd want to see him like that."
Luther's brows furrowed, "Like what?" He had said, ducking his head and grabbing one of Klaus' hands.
Klaus had shrugged, his eyes drifting to the side with a sigh, "Y'know, dead."
Pogo looked away then, turning his back on the children as he made his way inside.
He didn't say anything when he woke up that morning to Klaus' room empty.
He didn't say anything when the room stayed that way for fifteen years, either.