WHOOSH!

War-torn and broken, Klaus returned to 2019 in a blip of subdued blue, landing on the very same bus—in the very same seat—that he'd left only days before (according to the time travelling briefcase clutched tightly in his hands). He couldn't believe that he was back, back in his own timeline and back with his family. He was home, but more than when he had left. The present had not changed—the world around him had not flinched—in the time that he had been gone (afraid that he'd mess up a future no one but himself knew about) and wasn't that just the way? No one even noticed his disappearance from the Umbrella Academy when those masked gunmen—Hazel & Cha-Cha—had stolen him away to be interrogated; so why was he so upset that nothing else had changed?

It was clear to anyone who looked, that Klaus was a broken man. Clutching tight to the blasted briefcase that he had stolen all those months—years/days—ago, Klaus no longer bore the bloody towel and jacket that he'd escaped in; gone were the layers of make-up (save for a simple streak of eyeliner) and jewellery, gone were the skirts of yesteryear and silvery scars of torturous days under the assassins' care marked his arms like pretty tattoos. Like the one now marring his upper arm, the one that told him everything that had happened had been real. That the pair of dog tags clinking softly together against his chest were the only reminder of a love long lost. All was fair in love and war, after all.

Instead, Klaus found himself adorned in the army fatigues that he had last been wearing when he…when he lost him…when he lost Dave. His blood still clung to his fingers, digging deep beneath his nails no matter how much he scrubbed and a deep searing pain buried itself deep in his heart as the bus pulled to a stop at the next shelter, allowing the dazed man to stumble down the steps and onto the cobblestones below. Tears blurred Klaus' vision, sorrow choking at his throat as he stared at the blasted device in his hand; the very same one that had brought him so much love & terror, sorrow & hope.

Klaus snapped. Swinging downwards with immense force, he struck the briefcase again and again against anything he could reach. The park bench, the bike rack, the edge of the decorative garden and the cobblestones; nowhere was safe. Whump. Whump. Whump. Whump. Over and over again, the distraught man cried out unto the heavens as he tossed aside the broken piece of machinery, hoping that even the smallest amount of destruction would bring him relief. But it didn't.

Distraught and alone, Klaus curled up in a ball on the floor, unashamed of the public stares or the people who skirted around him, giving him a wide berth as he curled up into a tight little ball and the ground and wept for everything that he had loved and lost. Klaus howled as everything came crashing down around him, weeping unabashedly for a whirlwind romance that had been swept away in a hail of bullets; another friend lost to death.

(It hurt Ben to see his brother like this).

Having returned to the Umbrella Academy with Luther, Dolores and Theodore in tow (neither of the elder Hargreeves felt it was right to leave the boy alone in Diego's apartment, no matter how safe he might've been and they certainly weren't going to take him back to his own apartment, if what Diego had been saying was true. Guilt still twisted at Five's gut whenever he thought about the trouble he had caused them), Five trawled through the hallways lost in thought (he nodded a greeting to Diego as he passed, but his brother still looked rather distraught over his friend's death and Vanya's disappearance, so he didn't respond). A lot had happened in the last few days since he broke his contract, and even more so in the days following. From lost schoolboy to time travelling assassin to wanted rogue and so on. These days, it really seemed that the old adage was true: time really did fly when you were having fun.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Five spotted his other brother languishing in the tub and for some reason, the sight made him pause. At the end of the hall, Klaus lingered in the cold waters of the bathtub, not a single bubble in sight which was an odd thing considering Number Four never took a bath without the damn things. Said they made the venture more fun, or whatever. Five could never understand it, but it seemed to make his brother happy (particularly when the damn things filled up the entire bathroom as he floundered in the waters). But there was none of that now.

Laying broken and bloodied in the bathtub, Klaus refused to removed the dog tags which had become so dear to him, holding them close to his heart. Instead, he lay there in despondence as he stared off into the distance; eyes tracing the diamond tiles on the ceiling as ghoulish memories washed over him. Gunfire, blood and death flashed in front of glassy eyes. The blood surged in his ears, raging like a river as it danced along to the wailing screams of the dead. And then there was his heart which jackhammered painfully in his chest, almost as if it were trying to work its way outside. Jerking upright, Klaus clutched tight to his head as wet curls plastered themselves to his forehead. Forcefully yanking himself from those memories—those beautiful, suffocating memories—was hard; he felt like he was choking on nothing and everything all at once.

Worry pinched at Five's brow as he stood and watched as his usually bright brother despondently hauled himself out of the bathtub. Absently, Klaus reached for a towel that lay nearby before he shuffled down the hall—mindless of the trail of wet and bloody footprints that he was leaving behind (Dad would've been so mad)—and made his way towards his (once shared) bedroom. Five traced the bloody trail towards his brothers bedroom, carefully stepping around the traces as if disturbing them would upset the delicate atmosphere that had descended. He paused in the doorway, slowly pushing the cracked door open a little further where he found Klaus shoving himself into a pair of semi-clean clothes.

"Hoo boy…" Klaus sighed as he stretched tiredly and wiped away stray tears as he pulled the chosen grey t-shirt over his head.

"…You okay?" Five cautiously asked, unusually soft as he knocked a quiet greeting on the door. Still, he remained standing in the doorway as if afraid to intrude further.

"Hm? Oh hey" Klaus hummed, seemingly disconnected from the situation at hand. "Yeah I, uh, just…long night"

"More than one from the looks of it" Five chuckled dryly.

"Yeah…" Klaus huffed a laugh.

"Don't remember the dog tags, though" He added, spotting the silver tags that shone around his brother's neck like a stark beacon.

"Yeah, they, uh, belonged to a, uh, friend" Klaus replied half-heartedly as he pulled his shirt down over the tags, hiding them away from his brother's prying eyes.

"How about the new tattoo?" Five pursued, eyes flitting over to the Sky Soldiers: 173rd Airborne Brigade tattoo on his shoulder.

"Y'know…" Klaus sighed, a little annoyed that his brother just couldn't let it go. The concern was nice though. "I don't totally even remember getting it. Like I said, it was a, uh, long night"

"…You did it, didn't you?" Five murmured, lips curling upwards at the corners as he recognised the signs.

"What—what are you talking about?" Klaus mumbled, holding a hand to his aching head.

"Y'know, I can recognise the symptoms, Klaus" Five pursued, stepping further into the room.

"Symptoms?" Klaus repeated, flopping backwards onto his bed as he tossed his arms over his eyes in an attempt to both shield them from the harsh light and fight against the sleep that raged to pull him under. It felt like he was suffering from the world's worst hangover.

"The jet lag, the full body itch. Headache that feels like someone's shoved a box of cotton up into your nose and into your brain" Five replied, ticking off the symptoms on his fingers. "You gonna tell me about it?"

"…Your pals" Klaus sneered after a moment as he pulled his hands away from his face. "When they broke into the house and they couldn't find you, they took me hostage instead"

"And in return, you stole their briefcase" Five summarised, knowing his brother far too well.

"Yeah, I though there was money in it, or I could pawn it or, y'know. whatever…" Klaus shrugged, before his face screwed up in pain. "And then I opened it…"

"And the next thing you were…where?" Five prompted, "Or should I say, when?"

"What does it matter?"

"Wha—?! Okay, how long were you gone?"

"Almost a year…"

"A year…?" Five breathed in disbelief. It was unheard of for time jumps like that to go unchecked for so long. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yeah…" Klaus huffed a laugh, "I'm ten months older now—"

"—No, you imbecile!" Five hissed, "This isn't any kind of joke, Klaus! Hazel & Cha-Cha will do whatever they can to get the briefcase back again. Where is it now?"

"Gone" He replied, casually waving his hands in the air in demonstration. "I destroyed it. Poof!"

"Destroy—?! What the hell were you thinking?!" Five growled, stalking further in the room, mindless of his earlier concerns.

"What do you care?!" Klaus retorted, sitting upright.

"What do I care?" Five reiterated in disbelief. How was his brother this much of a moron?! "I needed it, you moron! So I could get back! So I could start over!"

"Just—just…" Klaus waved his brother away, more than tired of the interrogation. When it became clear that Five wasn't going to leave him alone, Klaus decided to leave him there, instead making his way into another corner out the house to fester alone in his thoughts.

"Hey—! Where are you going?!" Five reached out, trying to stop his brother from leaving.

"Interrogations over" He shot over his shoulder, "Just…just leave…"

"Nngh!" Five grunted in frustration before he hurried back over to the chaotic desk where he was able to find a pen and a piece of paper. Mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, the schoolboy assassin was able to hobble together a sort of plan that would guarantee him another shot at this whole stop-the-end-of-the-world-thing. It wasn't great, but it would have to do.

Theodore curled up in the crook of the wall hidden in the scullery, a blanket thrown over his legs as he dozed to the soothing sounds and rhythms of the rumbling freestanding dishwasher beneath him and at his feet sat the Go-Bag that Don Diego had snatched up for him. A gentle purr rumbled in his throat, singing in tune with the machine as he let the antibiotics do their work. He was still a little stiff and awkward with the cast, but thanks to his loric heritage, he was healing rather nicely. Although, some of that might have been due to the healing stone from the Loric chest willed to him (the one from Councilman Ent and A'Doro) which had helped with the pain more than he thought it would have. Not that he was going to tell any of the elder Hargreeves about that. They seemed to be constantly hovering over his shoulder now, like they were worried he would disappear like his vera if they didn't. Theodore didn't know if she should be flattered about the concern or not.

As he sat and mused, purrs rumbling in his chest, his thoughts turned to sadder things. Don Luther, Don Fën, Dolores (the mannequin) and himself had returned to the Umbrella Academy just a little after lunch that day. Theodore didn't know where Don Diego had run off to, but considering the fact that Eudora had died on the job, he had likely gone to mourn her in private. Theodore was sad too; he liked Eudora, she was nice. And she had done more to help the Garde pair than they could have ever asked for; including keeping their alien status a secret and updated them whenever Doro was in town/on probation (hence the notice from the other detective earlier).

And then there was the thing at school the next day; the memorial assembly that everyone had to attend. As it turned out, not everyone had walked away from the Meritech Industries explosion unscathed; most had been medical staff, employees of the company or patients too sick to move fast. But that wasn't why they were holding a memorial; no, for St Greg's, it was because two of their own population had died in that fire: his classmate, Sheryl Topp and their dean, Mrs Fawcett. Theodore could still remember how lifeless and prone her body had been, laying there under all the smoking rubble.

At the time, Theodore had thought that Sheryl was only unconscious; that the explosion had knocked her out or that the impact had knocked the breath from her, as it had done to him. It turned out to be much more serious exactly than that. The teachers wouldn't say what had happened, but they all knew it was bad. As for Mrs Fawcett however, she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As the dean for their grade, the uptight teacher had taken it upon herself to oversee a different work studies internship per day of the week. Theirs just happened to be that day; that day that ended in burning fire and scalding death.

("Is he…is he purring?" Ben blinked dumbly at the boy curled upon the freestanding dishwasher. Unlike his brother who was still caught up in mourning his lost love, he had easily located the boy tucked into the nook off to the side, where the butchery had once sat).

"…Teddy?" Don Klaus rasped in confusion, looking rather pale and ashen-faced as he stumbled into the scullery after his ghoulish brother. He looked like he had just awoken from a nightmare or something, that made Theodore shift uncomfortably.

"Yeah…?" Theodore hummed, shifting his weight atop the machinery as his instinctive purrs halted for a moment to respond.

"What are you doing here?" Don Klaus continued, confusion furrowing his brows as he shuffled close enough to sit on the old counter, opposite the dishwasher. "Aren't you s'posed to be in school or something? Are you playing hooky?"

("Is that…a cast? What happened to him?" Ben worried, eyes catching sight of the bright pink fibreglass poking out from beneath the blanket).

"Wait—! What happened to you?" Don Klaus continued before Theodore could reply to the first series of questions. Worry tinged his tone as his gaze quickly darted down to his bandaged arm.

"Huh? Oh, uh, it's just a fracture. The docs said it wasn't that bad, considering that Meritech exploded a couple of days ago…" Theodore shrugged as if it were no big deal but he still trailed off at the end.

("Meritech? Wasn't that the place where Five was looking for his mysterious eye guy?" Ben mused, lips pursed in thought).

"—So we get the week off to rest and stuff. But I have to go in to school tomorrow for the memorial-assembly-thing" Theodore continued..

"Memorial?" Don Klaus asked, sparing a glance towards Ben. What kind of Hargreeves luck had their nephew inherited to attend not one, but two funerals in one week?

"One—one of my classmates and a, uh, teacher of mine…" Theodore swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips. "They, uh, died"

"Oh"

"Yeah…"