We're into the second year of Klaus and Ben's storyline! Their sections will also now begin with 1961 just like Allison's.

So sorry for the long wait!

1962

So, Luther was ignoring her.

It was a vacant kind of ignoring, sure. The kind that Vanya hadn't questioned when he started doing it, even if she knew deep down his behavior didn't fit her overbearing, type A brother. It had been nice at first, actually, to deal with her feelings without interference. Until it wasn't. And once she was actually paying a modicum of attention to his detachment, it became the kind that told her he wasn't really there to ignore her. Even as he tossed and turned in the bed next to hers, Luther was very much off somewhere else.

Out of all her fears during the first few days here, having to get Luther's attention hadn't been one of them. But after three weeks, Vanya had finally gotten sick of lolling around in the hotel room watching TV and having nightmares whenever she tried to sleep.

Now, she stood at the end of his bed and stared Luther down with a confidence she didn't remember picking up. "Alright, it's time."

His questioning look—not a foreign expression on his face by any means—looked hollow around his eyes. And he was still lying on his side, head craned at an uncomfortable angle to look at her over his shoulder.

She'd waited until ten o'clock to say something on the off chance Luther suddenly decided to get up of his own volition. He hadn't. So she was going to do it for him. Vanya still had to forcefully remind herself that she wasn't the one making this awkward. "You have to get new clothes. We're going shopping. Now."

"I'm fine—really—I—"

"Get out of bed or I'll throw you out." It was a heavy-handed thing to say, and Vanya didn't feel entirely comfortable with the idea of leveraging her powers at him in any way that came across as even vaguely threatening. (Pogo. Mom. No, no, no, no, no…) But the truth was, she didn't really know him all that well and wasn't sure what would work. And he'd obviously responded well to Dad's aloof yet pushy nature.

After a few seconds, Vanya raised her eyebrows at him to prove that she wasn't messing around and definitely wasn't feeling shaky about the idea of having to make good on her threat.

She was quite pleased a moment later when he dropped her gaze with something that looked a little like guilt and started to work his way up to a sitting position. And, as a small thank you, she backed off and gave him space as they both got ready to leave the room.

Also, she didn't want him to suspect she'd gone rifling through his wallet a few nights ago—or days, maybe? Time was meaningless—because she'd been worried about their cash supply. Luther had obviously hit an ATM after getting home from the moon and thankfully hadn't spent any of it in the few days after the funeral. But between the motel bill and the essentials from the grocery store, they were getting dangerously low.

Plus, it had been three weeks. For as much as Vanya's head spun sometimes with near-blinding concern for their siblings, the truth was, they needed to start figuring out a more long-term plan. And they couldn't do that with Luther's singular set of clothes. At least Vanya had been able to wash up her concert clothes enough to switch between them and what he'd picked up for her that first day. His were still dirt-stained and rumpled, and she doubted he'd been washing them in the bathtub like she'd been doing with hers.

Now, Vanya shuddered as she pulled her concert shoes on. (Her suit coat and pants had lost their electric emotional charge out of the necessity of having more than one outfit to wear. But she hadn't needed shoes these past few weeks and hadn't bothered to clean the grime off of them from the apocalypse that she'd—)

It was much, much easier to grab ahold of her powers now and forcefully shove them back down into the depths of her torso. She'd spent the last several weeks learning how to catch at them, like plucking fish from a river, and hold on to their slippery sides with her bare hands. She actually felt quite capable when it came to that aspect. However, it was also much harder to deal with the near-constant onslaught of thoughts and feelings and worries that were finding their way back to the surface now that the meds were completely out of her system.

Her powers had become a Goliath force after even a few missed doses, but the rest of her had still needed time to catch up—and catch up it eventually had. Now, it felt like her whole brain was crying, and it really, really sucked. Plus, the awkward silence, cereal, and bad '50s movies had gotten old fast, which left more time to be in her feelings and tear herself apart.

Despite all that, Vanya told herself she didn't feel self-conscious as she left Luther to lock their door and headed to the motel's office. She didn't particularly like going out. As much as she'd felt like the odd one out in her regular life, here it felt like everyone who looked at her knew who she was, what she could do, what she'd done…

The same rude man from the day they'd arrived was behind the desk, and Vanya dug around in her feelings until she could dredge up the same formidable (hopefully) look she'd just used on her brother. "I need some directions."

She'd fully expected the concierge to be much more immune to her forcefulness than Luther and his pathological need to please, but either he wasn't feeling as ornery as he had that first day or her brusque, borderline menacing look really did work. He was reaching behind him for a city map almost as soon as Vanya could get the words out.

Luther joined them a minute later just as the other man made the last of the circles and then finished his work off with an "X" to mark their current location.

"I'd start here." He handed the open map over to her, meeting Vanya's eyes, finger pointed to one of the circles. "It's the only big and tall place within walking distance."

"Thanks." She gave him a curt nod and took the paper, sweeping out the door before she could start analyzing their short conversation for hints that the man knew they weren't supposed to be there. Between her paranoia and the circumstances in general, she didn't trust herself not to read too much into anything. Not when she was still trying to wrap her head around the idea that they were in a strange city, in the '60s, by themselves. It was a truth she knew, but that also never failed to set her nerves alight when she focused on it a little too much.

Again, Luther caught up to her quickly as she examined the map and listened to his surprisingly light footsteps a half pace behind her. The big and tall store was close, maybe a few minutes' walk away. Which was probably a good thing because she'd never been good at keeping up an act. Even with her violi—no, don't, back up—even the few times she'd tried to lie as a child or tried to insert herself into her siblings' attention, she'd folded soon after. Now, rather than feeling see-through—her normal state of being—she'd been thrust into something akin to the spotlight. Both extremes sucked.

"So…are we going to talk about this?" she asked to buy herself a little breathing room. And because she'd gotten this far, might as well keep pushing her luck.

"Talk about what?" The husky but otherwise curious edge to Luther's voice calmed her nerves a little. He'd never been keen on pretending he knew more than he did. It was one of the few things Vanya did know about him and even quite liked.

"I don't think either of us is in a very good headspace right now." And when he winced in surprise, she just shook her head at him and went back to hiding behind the map. "Yeah, I noticed."

But not right away. She'd been too consumed by grief and self-hatred, but she'd eventually figured it out. It was sad to think that the people she'd spent the first eighteen years of her life with constituted nothing more in her mind than a handful of tics and other random, pointless bits of information. She should have been able to tell that Luther was struggling sooner. Maybe she could have…what? Helped him? The thought made her frown.

"Do you…want some help with that?" Luther's offer was accompanied by an offered half-gloved hand, palm up, and Vanya didn't hesitate to hand the map over.

She didn't actually mind his compulsive desire to take the lead. She had zero desire to be in charge. But she did want to make sure he wasn't going to lead them both over a cliff. "Well?"

"Well?" Luther echoed absentmindedly, squinting at the map for a second. She could tell when he realized what she was asking by the way he subsequently stumbled for a few paces. As soon as he'd righted himself, he snuck a few glances her way, as if checking to see if she was still waiting.

Vanya returned his glances with a flat stare. No more hiding; out with it.

"Well, we've both been adjusting." Luther tried for offhanded, even going so far as to pretend to study the map again. She knew she was getting to him by his added, "Obviously," a few seconds later.

"You're mad at me because I didn't want to start training immediately."

His sudden attention on her was completely unexpected. As well as the way his scrunched-up expression and voice softened. "Of course not."

Vanya didn't know why she did it, but she simply raised her eyebrows at him. Like she didn't believe him. Which was a lie because she did; there was no guile in the way his whole face shifted into compassion. But for all her desperate attempts to get her siblings' attention and love growing up, now that Luther was looking at her like that, like he understood and he cared, it made her want to spit in his face and then run in the opposite direction.

"Vanya, you needed a break." Those eyes. Damnit. She'd forgotten how good he was at pulling the teeth out of a conversation. Well, usually. With everyone but Diego, at least.

"I did," Vanya finally conceded after a few seconds to readjust the choppy tide of her feelings.

They'd only gotten on the topic of her powers once, and Luther had asked if she'd feel more comfortable if he gave her some exercise suggestions but otherwise stayed out of it. She'd told him she didn't know, because she honestly didn't, and he'd nodded and let it go.

Despite everything that had happened during those final hours of 2019, she was grateful to him for that much.

"I'm just surprised you're taking a break too," she went on, and this time, when Luther looked at her in surprise, Vanya just snorted. "Although, at this point, I think you skipped a break and went straight into hibernation."

Luther's good shoulder lifted in a shrug as he returned to the map. "Eh, old habits." And because it wasn't enough for him to drop a cryptic bomb like that, a moment later he was pulling to a stop and glancing up at the storefront's sign. "I think we're here."

000

1961

"Klaus?" The voice drifted from a nearby open door, and Klaus paused in the dim hall.

Mrs. Randolph was in her study tonight. She'd been spending the last few days there in the evenings and seemed content to retreat there after dinner rather than sitting in the parlor with him as they sometimes did, reading, occasionally watching TV, and very, very occasionally talking.

He hadn't meant to draw her attention now, had just been heading to the kitchen to grab a snack. And to get away from Ben for a moment. So he was surprised when he poked his head into the open door of the spacious office to find her smiling, as if she was glad he'd happened by.

After a moment of silence, he sighed internally and shuffled inside a little further since she obviously wanted him to come in. He hated this room; it reminded him of Dad's study but somehow filled with even more wood paneling and the added charm of dead animals hanging on the walls.

Texas really was an entire setup and punchline unto itself sometimes.

"We'll be leaving soon for out trip…" Now that he'd come in, Mrs. Randolph was already holding a stack of papers out to him in her left hand. Her other hand was writing something down, her head bent down to her work.

Klaus took the papers before she could wave them at him and held them at his side stiffly. He'd thought when he first entered the room that the familiar sensation of cold sweats was because all of the poor bastards on the walls had their beady little eyes on him. Now, he realized he was an idiot and it was something else entirely.

"...and I wanted to take care of some things." She was businesslike when she finally looked up. She had to be around the same age as Dad. How had Klaus not realized that before?

"I won't keep you, then." He hated how small his voice sounded, the nervous whine creeping along underneath the syllables. Klaus had to clench his jaw to keep from flinching in the aftermath. That had been weakness; weakness was dangerous; he was in danger now. Surely Dad had heard it; he would…wait, no…Mrs. Randolph. This was Mrs. Randolph he was talking to. There was no Dad here, no Academy, no mausoleum.

His intuition was still banging around in his head though. No, he wasn't safe. Not when Mrs. Randolph was looking at him across this huge damn desk like she had something to say.

He barely had time to brace himself before she was motioning at the papers she'd given to him, and Klaus, feeling very far away from his body at the moment, lifted them up to examine. His eyes swept over the bold black letters at the top, the crisp paper crinkling beneath his tightening fingers, and he almost shuddered the moment it all registered.

No. Please. I don't want this. He'd just been getting used to the idea that he liked living with her. After the shitshow that had been his childhood, he'd never thought having a pseudo-parental figure in his life would make him feel this…well, good. He wasn't interested in inheriting it all. Part of the fun was having a housemate, not being alone in a mansion with the ghost of his dead brother.

When Klaus looked up at her, suddenly too exhausted to hide the bone-deep panic, Mrs. Randolph didn't so much as blink. If anything, another wave of intuition swept over him that she was completely misreading his reaction. And before he could stop her, say anything to stop this, she was talking again about how much this meant to her, how much she cared about him. She wanted to make sure that he would always be taken care of. Besides, this was his house now too, and it should go to him someday.

He should have run then. At least out of the room, if not out of the house and out of town.

But Mrs. Randolph said, "Really, Klaus," at just the right moment, as if he was helping her, and he faltered.

"Are you…are you sure?"

"Of course!" He'd barely been able to hear himself say the words; he didn't know how she'd caught them. A small smile touched her lips, still perfectly lip-sticked for eleven o'clock at night. "Come now, make an old woman happy."

Klaus watched his feet shuffle closer, his mind fluttering desperately, fighting with itself on whether or not to reach out to Ben. He could call his brother in here to cause a distraction. Klaus knew Ben would come in a nonexistent heartbeat. But for all his avoidant behavior these last few months, which he himself knew was bordering on outright cruel, he couldn't bring himself to ask for help now.

Besides, even if he did, what then? This had been the work of multiple nights and probably multiple outings these last few weeks when Mrs. Randolph had taken the car in the morning without telling Klaus where she was going. If she'd gone so far as to have her last will and testament altered, she wasn't going to just drop this. If he was going to refuse, he needed to have a solid reason. And in the state he was in now…that wasn't going to happen.

He was trapped.

"You should know, I'm already independently wealthy," Klaus tried to joke. There was that desperate whine in his voice again. He was surprised it hadn't cracked on any of the words.

"I know." She was smiling. And she said it like she didn't care if it was true or not.

It broke him, and he met her eyes desperately. "You don't have to do this." The please was right on the tip of his tongue, but he was worried if he let it out, that was all he'd be able to say for the rest of this conversation. Begging hadn't gotten him out of nights in the mausoleum. He didn't want to know how it would work now. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to do it again even if it did. "What I'm trying to say is…I don't…need this. I'm-I'm okay." He couldn't feel his hands anymore, fingers wrapped around the papers rigidly. They weren't connected to him anymore. "I…appreciate the gesture though."

Thank you. That was another phrase he was scared he'd start repeating if voiced.

"I know you do." Her teasing smile had deepened into something warm and steady, and it almost made him burst into furious, frustrated tears. She had to know what this was doing to him. Didn't she? Was she enjoying this? Or was she really through and through this benign, sweet old lady who'd unwittingly welcomed a drug-deprived hack into her home? "Klaus. Please."

No, she wasn't doing this to hurt him. She'd never do anything to hurt him; he'd relearned that lesson every day since she'd picked him up off the sidewalk almost a year ago. Mrs. Randolph loved him, and Klaus, despite himself, loved her too. He wanted her to be happy. Way more than he should have allowed himself to. So he hung his head. And nodded.

000

1962

The store people were clingy. And they kept trying to get Luther to try things on, which was a nonstarter given his modified upper body and seeming all-around discomfort with his appearance. There were currently no other customers for the salesmen to harass, and the attention was clearly making him uncomfortable. Plus, since this was the only big and tall store nearby, Luther would probably have to find most of his clothes here or risk not finding them at all.

So Vanya stood silently next to the few pairs of pants they'd amassed so far (the item easiest to find that would fit) and told herself she hadn't bitten off more than she could chew. That Luther needed this. Probably, they both did. And even if she was still rattled by his comment outside the store—as if he'd laid in bed for weeks at a time before this—and the open, almost pained looks he'd given her when she accused him of being angry for not wanting to start training right away, it didn't mean he had to know any of that had gotten to her.

Besides, this outing gave her the opportunity to assess his physical state, and even though he was still moving with caution, she could tell his hurt shoulder was at least starting to heal. He was moving it more often and reaching for things with his left hand as well as his right. That alone was probably a good enough reason for making him get out of bed. All the lazing around couldn't be good for it.

Footsteps behind her brought Vanya back too quickly. The pushiest of the three salesmen, probably.

"You know, if you'd like…" Yep; still him.

"We're doing fine, thanks." She didn't bother to turn around. After a moment, the footsteps retreated. When she glanced at Luther, his head was ducked lower than usual as if trying to blend in to the rounder of shirts he was searching through.

He looked so vulnerable, Vanya felt a brief, inexplicable flare of anger. After everything that had happened in the last month, everything he'd done, he was using her as a human shield to get out of social interaction?

Weak, her mind spat viciously, and she clamped down on her powers almost as an afterthought.

A moment later, Luther rounded one of the racks and wordlessly shifted two shirts underneath his chin for her to pick between.

"Wow, you…really like blue." Vanya forced her tone to stay even. "I guess both since I can't tell them apart anyway."

She was more than a little surprised by his good-natured smirk as he added them to the pants pile. "I think, uh, this is gonna be it for clothes. I should be good with these for a while…" Luther looked over at her expectantly, and it took Vanya a moment too long to realize he was waiting for her to respond. As if he was asking for her approval.

"Fine." She frowned even harder and ducked her head as he gathered everything up into his arms. Every time he did something like that, caught her off guard in some small, unexpected way, it seemed to push at something inside of her. A locked-away part that still hoped maybe she was a valued member of this family.

At this point, the feeling was physically painful, and she barely registered his "I was thinking we should also stop and get more groceries before we go ho- uh, back to the room."

A moment later, he was brushing past her toward the sales counter, and Vanya allowed herself a moment to believe his back was turned so she could hunch over in sudden exhaustion. Reminding herself that she was almost thirty years old and that if her relationship with her family was going to get better it would have happened by now still didn't make the aching stop. Not when Luther was hiding behind clothing racks and innocently, obliviously, expressing his pensive apology from that first night over and over again by including her in decisions now.

"Thank you." Luther's quiet voice drifted back to her as Vanya straightened up again and turned to watch as he lifted the stupidly fancy-looking bag of clothes (was that tissue paper?) off the counter and spun toward the door. His eyes found her a moment later, and he smiled, looking relieved, like he was glad to be getting out of here. "Ready to go?"

Much to her frustration, Vanya felt her expression soften a little in response, and she nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

000

September 5, 1963

Diego didn't remember falling asleep on the bus; he must have been more tired than he realized.

He'd spent the last two days obsessively going over and over what he needed to do, what he would say, what would happen afterward. He planned and planned and slept and then woke up and planned some more.

But as soon as the skyline was visible in its usual haze, his mind was on Patch.

They were getting so close to his destination; he should be breaking down his next move. Yeah, for the hundredth time, the still-sleep-deprived part of his mind chimed. So you can be overprepared and screw it up that way?

Still, Diego struggled against memories of her. He didn't want to think…didn't want to have to see it again in his mind's eye. Patch with her eyes open and a massive hole in her chest. Patch who'd been doing what he'd pushed her to do…

And this was why Diego didn't take public transport. Because it took everything in him not to hunch over and shove his hands over his ears in an unsuccessful attempt to shut this down before it could get any worse. But even thinking back on the usual bite of their failed relationship didn't stop the grief now; if anything, it made the regret and the what-ifs that much more formidable.

Still, he kept his head up, eyes going unfocused. Diego hadn't survived his life up until now just to be taken down by this. No, he would survive losing her too. Because he always did, and he had other people—his siblings, his family—relying on him this time. The six of them were the only people he had left in the world. They…mattered to him. More than he'd let himself admit in a long time. And all the unspeakable things he felt about losing Patch were only going to get that much worse if he failed his family too.

They were in it now. And it was only for them that he was here right now, about to do the unthinkable.

Another Community reference! This is my new comfort show, and Troy running in circles yelling "My whole brain is crying" is the best.

Thanks to Katie and Jess for beta-ing this hot mess of a chapter! And thanks for the reviews, Storygirl8 and Anonymous00! I love reading your thoughts! And yeah, I am doing Allison x Luther for the fic. I know it's not super popular in the fandom, but I like them together, and I also had issues with how some season 2 stuff was handled, which we'll get into more as this fic goes on.

And thanks for reading!