A/N: Warning for mentions of canon suicide, as well as brief suicidal thoughts.
It was almost blindingly bright when Claus came to; a stark contrast to the cavern where he had finally regained his senses. His body felt simultaneously numb and yet riddled with pain. A feeling of wrongness was felt in his arm, his eye, and his legs, almost as if they shouldn't be there. There was a reason for that, though. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but he supposed that he would just have to deal with it. After all, he knew that he should be dead and yet wasn't.
There was no doubt that he was alive in that moment. The afterlife wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to be aches and numbness and that feeling like you're still not yourself. Everything in the afterlife was supposed to be fine. Mom was supposed to have met him there, and they would have moved on together, and he would finally get the chance to rest after all these years. Why couldn't he have that? That one reprieve after everything he was forced to go through?
He twitched the fingers on his right hand. It felt off. He figured none of it would ever feel right to him, so again it was probably better to just suck it up and get used to it already. He was supposed to be the strong one, wasn't he? He could handle it.
It was just that he didn't feel all too strong anymore, especially not laying on the ground like this.
With the twitch of his fingers came movement from the rest of his body. His right arm braced on the ground well, but his left arm continued to struggle, pins and needles running through the human limb. Refusing to open his eyes, he lifted himself from the ground, the phantom pains in his cybernetic limbs being slow to dissipate.
Once he was in a seated position and felt steady enough to not tumble back to the ground, Claus finally opened his eyes. As suspected, he was outside, sitting in a patch of grass on a small hillside. Just beyond the hill laid one of the familiar patches of sunflowers that could be found on Nowhere, all standing tall and soaking up the sunlight that shone above them.
Of course, at the very top of the hill, mere feet before him, stood an ever familiar grave.
All of it was pretty; nostalgic. Maybe even a little depressing. Emotions were coming even slower than the feeling in his left arm, and he suspected they wouldn't fully return any time soon. Should he feel depressed? Happy? How was someone supposed to feel after returning from a death that they had embraced? He simply didn't have the answers.
It wasn't as though he was known as the sensitive twin. Lucas was always the one that dealt with emotions like sadness and despair better, even if everyone always called him a crybaby for it. Claus used to think that it meant his brother was weak, so he always tried to shut down any of his own sad thoughts and feelings. He knew better now, however. Lucas was always the stronger one emotionally. It served him so much better in the long run, hadn't it?
Claus wanted to cry now, he really did, but the tears and the sobs just didn't come. He could only continue to stare despondently at his mother's grave, wondering why he couldn't have just gone with her to the afterlife. Was this her telling him that he was supposed to stay alive now? She'd told him to go to her back before the final Needle was pulled. He didn't understand! Was dying not what she had meant? It was what he so desperately wanted, even now.
He lifted an arm to reach towards his mother's grave, but paused when he saw it was his mechanical one. It could transform into an arm cannon still, he could feel and understand that intrinsically. Maybe it wasn't too late. He could still…
He put his mechanical arm down, gripping it with his human one. Frown prominent on his face, he tried to figure out if he felt, what? Scared? Disappointed?
The Dark Dragon brought him back, obviously, likely even through Lucas' will, but he couldn't stop thinking about his mother. The thoughts raced through his head, never ceasing. Did she want him to stay alive for Lucas' sake? Did she hate him for what he had turned into and reject him? What was it?
Finding that he had closed his eyes once more, he opened them back up, staring at his mother's grave as though it had any answers. It had been Lucas and the Dark Dragon that did it, he knew that. He needed to stop with these awful depressive thoughts. If he was back now, he should try to take this second (third?) chance at life, right?
He didn't know. His mother's grave remained silent before him.
Turning around, Claus gazed back at where he knew Tazmily must lie, seeing Nippolyte's graveyard and Osohe Castle nearby. Tazmily was just a little too far for him to see properly, but he could spot the rooftops of some of the taller buildings sticking over the trees in the horizon.
The thought of returning there gripped his heart in fear, and he found himself frozen to the spot. Ah, there was an emotion, but why did it have to be that one?
He should return home. Return home and try to let things go back to normal, or at least as normal as they'd ever be. Knowing Lucas, everything had been returned to how it once was—at least, mostly. Maybe the brainwashing and the industrialism were gone, but looking down at his own body, Claus had a sneaking suspicion that the chimeras might still remain. Perhaps they would be more docile now, but there was no way they were gone. He'd be fully human again if that were the case, right?
What else had Lucas and the Dark Dragon left alone, and why?
None of that mattered now, he supposed. The dragon was probably gone, and Claus was certain that Lucas had done all he could for what remained of their world. For now, he should just focus on mustering up the courage to return to Tazmily and face the people there. Face his father and brother.
Huffing a deep sigh, he clenched his fists in the grass and closed his eyes. Alright, he could do this! He might blame himself for everything that happened, but he'd had no control over his actions. The people of Tazmily and his family would understand that, they had to!
(If they didn't, he wouldn't fault them.)
He didn't know what he was going to do once he walked into Tazmily for the first time in three years, but he had to find out sooner or later. Sitting at his mother's grave and cowering in fear and indecision wasn't going to help anyone. If the citizens of Tazmily were going to be in for a shock, it was better to get it said and done with.
Mind hesitantly made up, Claus attempted to fire himself up with the same confidence and stubbornness he remembered having before everything went to hell, and then he stood. At first his vision was filled with vertigo, and he wobbled on the spot, taking a step back to keep his balance. His vision righted itself and his systems recalibrated their sensors, and in no time he felt steady enough to get moving.
Turning back to his mother's grave, he debated saying something to her. Maybe, "Goodbye, Mom. I'll try to do better this time," or even just a simple, "I love you, Mom. I miss you," would suffice, but the words wouldn't come out. He turned back and began walking away, leaving his mother to herself.
The path to Tazmily was short and simple, with Claus seeing no one along the way. Nippolyte was nowhere to be seen in the graveyard, and the bell off to the side of Tazmily's entrance was absent of Leder. All that he saw on his way home was a lone slitherhen, scurrying back off into the Sunshine Forest with something caught in its beak. That confirmed the continued existence of the chimeras, but it did nothing to assure him that he would be welcomed back in Tazmily with open arms.
Standing by the nearest home of Tazmily, Claus could already hear the chatter and bustling of the people within the village. God, he did not want to go in there—didn't want to face the hatred and fear the people might show—but it was either that or rot in front of his mother's grave until someone happened to wander over there.
Knowing he needed to go in there now before his confidence faded, Claus forced his legs to keep moving him forward. His eyes were glued to the dirt path lacing through the village, and he swore it took longer to get to the center of town than it did in the past. The chattering of the village quieted to near silence as he approached, and finally he willed himself to bring his gaze up.
There they were, the people he grew up with. Older, wiser, hopefully not angrier. There were many others gathered around that he swore he had never seen before, but he didn't let himself dwell on them for long. Everyone was gathered by the well in the center of town, seemingly having a town meeting. A necessary first step for rebuilding their lives. They were allowed to get their bearings together and process everything that had happened, but god, he wished they would stop staring at him.
Too many pairs of eyes were gazing at him, some as though they were seeing a ghost (which he supposed wasn't far from the truth), others with a mix of sadness and happiness, and then there were the ones whose gazes were nothing but fear and disgust. He felt so horribly exposed, wanting nothing more than to cover himself and hide. This was such a bad idea. Awful. His breath was already constricting in his throat—
"Claus? Is that really you?"
That was Lighter. The man took a few hesitant steps from the crowd, his greying hair becoming that much more prominent as the sunlight hit it. Claus almost wanted to laugh. What an absurd thing to notice at a time like this! And yet the silence continued to drone on after the older man's question.
You need to say something. Just say anything, come on!
"Where's my dad?" Meek. Quiet. Voice hoarse.
Pathetic. Master Porky would be displeased with him.
No one seemed to notice the sheer panic that rose to his face in that moment, or care about the hand he shoved to his head to block his thoughts out. At least, he didn't feel like they did. It was getting difficult to think straight around so many people.
"He was checking on the sheep at your guys' place last I saw," Lighter continued. His voice sounded strained, but Claus wasn't sure what that meant. Everyone was still staring at him and keeping their distance.
"Okay," was all he could get out in response. Wanting to say more, he cleared his throat, managing to make eye contact with Lighter for a split second. "I'm," he hesitated before pushing on, "I'm gonna go home now."
Be stronger! Just suck it up and deal with it!
He held his arms to himself, doing his best not to hunch over in an attempt to hide as he jolted forward. His stride was hurried as he walked to the other side of town, and he saw people attempting to get out of his way as he passed them. Some voices were raised, but silenced just as quickly by others. He didn't process what any of them were saying. His thoughts were racing and his breathing far too irregular. He just wanted to go home. Anywhere but here.
Somehow he resisted the urge to break into a run as he made it past the main streets of Tazmily, and he continued to attempt to control his breathing. His house was in view. He was on his father's land now, and he could even see a couple of the sheep out grazing.
Flint wasn't in sight as Claus approached their home, and neither were Lucas or Boney. It wasn't too unusual a sight, and he quashed down any panicked thoughts that tried to surface again. Maybe they were inside; no big deal!
As Claus walked up the hill that lead to his home, his thoughts began racing once more, memories flooding through his head against his will. Memories of being younger and helping his dad on the farm, not being competent enough to do much yet, but doing his best anyways. Memories of playing games with Lucas and always getting just a tad too excited whenever he won. Memories of his mother…
There was a new doorknob on their front door. He wasn't all too sure why, but perhaps change, even one so slight, was inevitable. Discarding the feeling of unease it gave him, he tried to ignore it and moved on. The house was unlocked as most homes in Tazmily had always been, and the door opened with no resistance once he turned the knob and pushed it forward. His thoughts tried to stall once more before he could take even a single step inside, more and more memories of his family and childhood flashing by. It was almost unbearable, and he forced himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath.
Willing himself to calm down, he opened his eyes once more and kept his gaze low, taking his first step into his home in three years. The darker part of his head tried to tell him he wasn't welcome there anymore, but he knew better. His father and brother wouldn't do that to him, no matter how much their family might have fallen apart since Hinawa's death.
Another step, and the closing of a door. Claus was inside his house. He was finally home, but no one else was there. It shouldn't have felt so lonely and alienating, yet it did. He couldn't stop seeing images of his family, once so happy and carefree. Despite his initial fear, the house hadn't changed much. He wondered if Lucas and the Dark Dragon did that, or if nothing had truly changed in three years.
Feeling as though he was suffocating in the small living area of his home, Claus veered to the right, towards the bedroom. As suspected, the beds were still intact, same bedding and everything, and he practically fell into a sitting position on his and Lucas' bed. The combat boots were kicked off, followed by his jacket being tossed to the floor, and then Claus crawled into the bed. He curled up, wrapping the blankets closely around him. Even the smell was exactly how he remembered it. It felt safe. Safer than he'd felt in a very long time. Nothing else was right, but at least he still had this to come back to. Even with his family absent, he still had his home.
He laid there for some time, preventing his systems from telling him exactly how long that time was, and the tension began to work its way out of his body. It wouldn't go away completely—he suspected it might be a long while before it ever did—but he was beginning to feel better. The singular realization that he was finally back home kept his thoughts from racing so much, and he almost began to doze off…
The sound of the front door opening and shutting was heard, followed by the clunking of booted feet. That was his father. Not even the sound of his footsteps had changed. Why did he feel like he was the only thing in their house that was drastically different? His home that had felt so safe and familiar before suddenly felt far more oppressing again. There was a chimera out-of-place in this haven of safety.
Fear and depression filtering their way back through him, Claus pulled the blankets over his head, curling up tightly underneath them. He'd wanted nothing more than to reunite with his father before. He'd imagined the scene in the haze of his panic, walking up to the house and seeing his father outside; running up and embracing him, knowing that he was where he belonged now. This was not quite the scenario he imagined in his head. His father was now in the same space as him, and he didn't know what to do besides hide like the little kid that he was.
"Lucas?" his father's voice sounded, his footsteps faltering. "I thought you were out with Duster and Kumatora. Did something happen?"
That didn't help. Thinking it was Lucas hiding in the bed did nothing to help Claus' resolve. Why was he so afraid, now? Why did it seem like the only emotion that was capable of running through his head was fear? Where was the happiness, confidence, and contentment? This was his father for crying out loud!
You didn't have any control over what you did. He knows that.
Why couldn't he convince himself of that?
"Lucas, I know I haven't really…" Flint was about to begin what seemed to be a heavy conversation, but trailed off. Claus couldn't think of what might have happened between Lucas and Flint, as the whole family had been so close before the Pigmasks showed up. However, he'd been missing for three years, so things could have easily changed between the two during that time. It almost hurt to think about just how much their family had been torn apart by Master Porky and his army.
"What…?" Flint continued, dragging Claus out of his musings. The older man took some steps into the room, and it sounded like he was picking something up off of the floor. Oh. No wonder he trailed off before.
An unreasonable amount of panic shot through him at the thought of Flint finding the commander's boots and jacket, and he finally managed to find his words.
"Wait, Dad!" What did he want his dad to wait for? "I, um, it's me!" Pulling down the blankets, Claus slowly sat up in bed, staring at his dad warily. Flint was frozen in place, disbelief clear on his face. "I'm sorry. I, I didn't think I was going to come back, and no one was here when I got home, so…"
Flint had been kneeling on the floor by Claus' jacket, but he stood back up, making Claus trail off himself. The man didn't hesitate to move forward and embrace his son once he was off the ground, and Claus froze in his arms. It took him a moment to realize what was going on, but once his mind caught up with his father's actions, he threw his arms around him as well and squeezed back.
"Claus, are you really here?" Flint murmured into the top of his son's head. His voice sounded choked, as though he were holding back tears. "I can't… I looked for you for so long."
The man's speech hitched at the end, and Claus could feel his repressed shudders. Flint was never one for crying, and Claus remembered always trying to emulate him and his stoic demeanor. He'd always thought his father was so cool, and strong, and couldn't be fazed. He had practically been his hero. In the end though, he was just as human as anyone else. He could still cry over his long-lost son, and that somehow made the whole situation feel at least a little bit more real to Claus.
The two held each other, Claus relaxing further into his father's hold and realizing just how safe it felt. How right it felt to be back. Maybe things would turn out okay after all. Maybe they all could work things out and finally move on.
Holding onto his father for dear life, Claus finally felt the tears running down his own face, and that also felt right. He needed just that one little reminder that he was still human, too.
