It was dark, and cloudy, and so very cold.
Pogo found himself sitting in the library, away from the fire that blazed in the living room, away from the cooling corpse of the man who had raised him, away from the children he wished to call his own. Vanya's book stared at him, it's barren spine glaring at him, spitting harsh words that spoke with acorns of truth and a wave of hurt.
He had sent Grace to her charging station the second Sir Reginald's breath had come to a stop, the mirror of his mother blinked at him with a smile that shouldn't be there and nodded, bidding him night.
The phone was still on the wall, begging him to pick it up, call his kids and tell them to come home , their father wasn't there, anymore. If he called, Pogo didn't doubt that at least one would come back- with bright eyes and open arms and a laugh Pogo didn't realize he's been missing.
But he didn't move.
He stared at the phone on the wall with his head full of what could happen, with false hopes of a warm reunion with the children he tried his best to raise and keep alive.
Pogo didn't call.
The house was empty and cold when Klaus stepped in, Ben hovering outside the doorway for a moment too long. He laughed under his breath, "this place is even more depressing than I remember." Klaus looked to the side, avoiding the ugly bruising around his brothers' throat to look him in the eyes. "Really makes you feel at home, yeah?"
Ben, the absolute prick that he is, rolled his eyes. "Why don't you find the others? Maybe see if our siblings- who you haven't seen in years-" Klaus scoffed, he sees Ben's face everyday. If the few interactions he's had with his loving family over the past fifteen years were anything to go by, he wasn't missing out on any spectacular family bonding. "-you might actually enjoy being back home."
Klaus rolled his shoulders, flicking his eyes up towards the body hanging from the chandelier. Whatever makes him come back from the dead always clears his system of drugs when he wakes up, it's very tedious. Who wants to have all their hard work at actually coping with their powers thrown down the drain every time they die? Not him, that's who.
He'd rather stay dead, next time, thank you oh so kindly.
"Bah," he waved a hand in Ben's general direction, flicking his gaze over the paintings that were hung from the walls. "Hate to break it to you Benny, but you're the only one who can handle seeing my handsome face. The others are too weak for it."
Ben, much to his amusement, flipped him off and walked through a wall.
Guess he'd have to face their siblings by himself, then. Petty bastard.
The halls were the same as they had been fifteen years ago, the paintings of them with their slightly to pale or slightly to wide eyes staring at him. He always hated those paintings, now that Reggie finally kicked the bucket he might have the chance to take them down - and preferably set them on fire in the courtyard.
It was also annoyingly quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the slight creak of the old floorboards and the barely there hum of the wind, pushing gently at the windows with it's deft hands. Klaus hated the noise that came with the ghosts- he did, he truly did (their screams and wails and begs for his help, the constant recalling of their messy lives and even messier deaths-). But god, he'd take their shouts over this stifling silence any day.
(That was a lie, but the only person to know it was Klaus.)
Footsteps against the hardwood caught his attention, light and forceful as a cane rapped rhythmically with them. "Master Klaus," he looked away from the painting, his eyes meeting Pogo's as his breath stuttered for the tiniest moment. "It is, wonderful, to see you again, my dear boy."
Klaus sucked in a breath, looking for any hint of his brother in his periphery. "Hey- Pogo." He quietly cursed himself, for someone who tends to take pride in how he interacts with people, Klaus sure did make this awkward in two fucking words. "It's been awhile, yeah?"
The Séance shot Pogo a smile, weak and forced. "It has, it has indeed." Pogo moved over to him, the clacking of his cane becoming more and more prominent in the silent hall, "fifteen years, I believe."
Klaus sighed, looking down the hall as a faint scream broke the silence. "Yep, yep yep- yeah. I mean," he licked his lips, his eyes flickering between the forming ghost at the end of the hallway and his old teacher. "How are you?"
"I've been doing alright, though I have to admit, the house has been awfully lonely since you children left."
Klaus nodded, biting at the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, doesn't sound very fun."
"And what of you, my boy?"
"Hm?"
"How have you been?"
"Oh," Klaus waved his hand, that ghost was creeping up behind them. Her neck bent at a painful looking angle and shards of glass stuck out of her pale skin. She was dripping with blood, leaving the reddened trails that only he could see. "Y'know, I've been around."
Pogo's grip on his cane tightened, his lips pressed together, "I see."
Klaus ignored the shake in his hands and shot his old teacher a grin, fake and forced and lacking any warmth. "Yeah." The bent-neck lady was closer now, her cold fingers reaching for him, passing through Pogo as her bloodied hands grabbed at him. Klaus grimaced, patting his pockets for anything left over he might have. "Well, as much as I love seeing you again, I'm dying to go find the others." He walked past Pogo, suppressing a shiver as the ghost girl's hands passed through him.
"I don't suppose I'll see you again, Master Klaus?" He paused in his steps, Pogo's voice carrying a desperation Klaus didn't want to acknowledge.
He waved a hand over his shoulder, "Of course."
He hoped that he wouldn't be made a liar, just this once.