Chronological markers: this scene fits like a deleted scene from season 1 episode 5, around 19:28 (between Klaus's reminiscences in the bathtub and Five's visit to his room).
March 28, 2019 - 08:41 pm
I didn't sleep well when I came back from Viktor's. As I had expected, the empty corridors of Hargreeves Mansion oppress me: I have no meaning in being here without anyone, surrounded by the bullet-riddled walls. Pogo is there, somewhere downstairs, but the day before yesterday, I've been avoiding meeting him again. I waited and waited, feeling the dull impression of being the only one worrying, and the disturbing thought that Klaus might disappear without his siblings realizing for a month.
I had hope for a moment when Diego and Five came back home in the early morning. Finally, it seems that Five coulp be found. I don't know if it reassures me to know he's there while armed guys are looking for him. But the sound of his footsteps in his room upstairs at least breaks the silence of the house. Diego disappeared downstairs. I imagine he's spending some time with what remains of Grace.
It was later in the day when I heard noise again, in the hallway and bathroom. Familiar sighs. Water, and the smell of lavender bath salts, supposed to soothe. Something immediately knotted my stomach, leaving me unsure of what to do.
But Klaus is indeed home now.
I could give him some time, but something stirs inside me and it's not the urge to shout at him, this time. As I approach in the hallway, I see him struggling with intrusive thoughts through the half-open bathroom door, just like many times in the past ten years. However, this time, they are not as dull and penetrating, no. He seems to be overcome by a sharp pain, like a raw wound. An immediate state of shock.
His hands, agitated and trembling, spread blood on the edges of the bathtub.
It doesn't take much more for me to approach quietly, and he looks at me in a way that I can't put into words. As if I also were an apparition from the past, as if he's searching for a way to ground himself, as if he's losing his grip on reality. I've seen Klaus go through many troubled times already, but never like this, and my stomach twitches once again.
I observe him closely: his gaze is hollow, he wears a medal, and there's a tattoo under his left shoulder that he didn't have the day before yesterday. I remain silent, attempting to understand, as if I could do so just by meeting his gaze. But I can't, and I just drop sitting to the floor next to the bathtub, next to a pair of boots with mud-encrusted soles.
"Where have you been?"
I can only say that. Honestly, since yesterday morning, I have hoped several times to ask him this. At first, he does not respond; he closes his eyes again, and I feel intrusive mental images coming to him again. Piercing and vivid as if he is somewhere else. His fingers grip the tub, smearing the long marks of blood again. And with his voice broken, as if he is speaking for the first time in fifty years, he finally says to me:
"I was... in Vietman... for a while..."
He stammers, unable to find words to express his true meaning, and I frown, wondering if he is more stoned than usual. If he tells me this because he has just seen my face, with features inherited from my grandmother, in his confused state. But no, I know the dilation of his pupils and I can pretty much guarantee that he hasn't taken anything for a while.
"Vietnam, Klaus, it's a 17-hour flight just to go there, and you left two nights ago..."
Before I can finish saying that, I see my disbelief is hurting him, and I can only add, as if it makes sense:
"Please explain to me..."
I see him trying to piece things together, grasping at a thread I cannot see, his eyes fixated on the water's surface.
"The bastards who took me hostage instead of Five..."
I'm relieved to see that he manages to make the words come out.
"They were scuzzballs, capable of going all the way. They had... a suitcase".
I gaze at him over the edge of the tub, frowning slightly.
"A suitcase? For traveling?"
It seems I unintentionally hit the nail on the head, and Klaus nods in agreement.
"I was hoping it would be something valuable, so I...I opened it and..."
For a moment, I sense him struggling to suppress unwanted thoughts again, but he eventually completes his sentence:
"I felt the same thing as when you teleported me... after talking to Pogo last year".
'Last year'... It was only two days ago. However, his comparison makes me frown.
"What was inside that suitcase? Could it be related to Five..."
I'm afraid I understand.
"I don't know. Suddenly, I found myself in a camp, surrounded by noise, bombs, and mud... It was 1968, and I... I stayed there for ten months".
"Ten months..."
I repeat it, and I look down at him again. He is indeed much more sober, his usually distant gaze replaced by one of shock and infinite sadness. His hair has been cut and may not be as straightened as last time. He has lost weight, more than one would in just two days. He's telling the truth. He was truly gone for ten months. And suddenly my attention comes back to his medal - similar to military dog tags. This new tattoo, almost under my nose: a skull crossed with a rifle and a palm branch, beaing the name of the 173rd brigade of the Sky Soldiers. And this blood, on the edge of the bathtub and even under his nails.
"You found yourself… in the middle of the Vietnam War?"
Klaus slowly nods, this time without averting his gaze, and I sense that his need to talk suddenly surpasses his dazed state.
"I was a soldier... in the American ranks... against the Viet Cong", he murmurs, now staring into the void, his gaze revealing the weight of what he witnessed.
I can almost sense the memories in his head - the explosion of mines, the mud, the sound of AK47s, the absurdity of seven million tons of bombs dropped. And the fear of guerilla booby traps. The unforgiving jungle, trying to kill anyone itself. Small territories gained at the expense of young lives, only to be lost once again in the evening under blur objectives. Napalm, Agent Orange. I know all that. And now I see that Klaus knows it too now, and that he has a new reason to be haunted. But suddenly, he seems to recognize that I stand before him.
"Where was your family..."
He's devastated, and yet this is what he's wanting to know? His question is infused with anger, immersed in sorrow. Against the 'enemy', against the orders received, against himself, just for having been there. Taken aback, my eyes fall to the mud of his boots, now laying further by the wall.
"My grandmother... emigrated to France in 1954 after the end of the Indochina War... The first one".
Even if in reality, one does not exist without the other. Another time, similar horrors, lives equally broken or scattered. But possibly, riffles left behind by the French were once pointed at Klaus in this forest. I walked in the demilitarized zone, I saw the Vịnh Mốc tunnels and the american Khe Sanh Combat Base as well. But above all, the War Remnants Museum in Hô Chi Minh City left a profound impact on me, fostering a strong longing for peace. But this war remains a sorrowful abstraction for me, so paltry compared to Granny's and even more Klaus's experiences. I don't even feel legitimate in talking to him about it.
"She didn't experience herself what you saw", I tell him, "But... she can't talk about it".
We are all ashes of war and peace, directly or indirectly molded by the ever-turning wheel of history. Collateral damages in the timeline, also born from its horrors. If it weren't for the wars in my grandmother's country, her emigration, my mother's birth, and ultimately my own existence would never have come to be. But at what cost? I observe Klaus's hunched posture, tormented by a pain that I struggle to comprehend, even though I trust his words now.
"I blame myself so much..." he tells me, and I stare at him again, even though he doesn't look at me. What does he mean?
"Look at you..."
He is depleted, marked with bloodstained hands, he looks like if he has died a thousand deaths himself.
"You're just a victim of this, too. It's not the fault of the people thrown into this".
My eyebrows tighten. It's easier for me to tell than it is for Granny.
"It's not your fault either".
His eyes close. I believe he needed to hear those words, yet paradoxically, they also seem to shatter him further. I can understand the horror of what he saw, but I sense there is more. Something he hasn't said yet. My gaze shifts from the reference to Sky Soldiers on his arm to the lingering crimson stains on his fingers.
"Is this blood yours?"
Even though he hisn't moving, I sense his breathing halt, confirming the answer is 'no'. With care, I reach out and take his hand, pulling it away from the tub's edge and turning it over, the clotted blood crisscrossing the word 'Goodbye', staining my own fingers as well.
"It's not yours".
His gaze meets mine once more, and the words finally pour out of him as if he were gasping for breath.
"Rin..."
I understand that the subject is not war as a whole, that his pain is not about the anonymous atrocities. And perhaps he senses that I already understand because his words become clearer.
"The War... took someone from me".
His hand trembles a little but he doesn't take it off. He hesitates for a moment, but not because he doesn't want to talk. Simply because it is terribly painful for him to do so.
"I met another soldier there... Dave".
Pronouncing this name just pierces his ribs, his eyelids remaining tightly closed. Even though I understood, my eyebrows climb high on my forehead as he speaks again.
"He and I... He was everything I never imagined this hell could bring".
He opens his eyes, lost in thought and seemingly talking to himself, staring at the surface of the water.
"We held on, we lived... we supported each other. I've never loved anyone else so much, until... until..."
I look at the blood on both of our fingers once more, and I notice his shoulders sagging, his eyes closing, and tears of pain mixing with the bathwater. It's as if he hopes they can alleviate the weight crushing his heart and soul. Nevertheless, he attempts talking again.
"Until..."
"Shhhh, it's okay. It's okay, you don't need to say it..."
I let go of his hand and pull him closer to wrap my arm around his head over the edge of the tub.
"I tried, Rin", he says, clutching the black fabric of my sleeve, as though trying to prevent himself from sinking.
"I called and called again, and I tried to stop him from leaving".
"What do you mean..."
My eyes narrow, displaying an expression he probably won't comprehend.
"I tried", he repeats, but all I can see of him is his hair, cut by scissors from another era.
"With your power..."
I'm aware of what he's capable of, and of what he's not. And he repeats:
"I blame myself so much..."
I have something I want to tell him, something I should tell him. But this is not the right time. It's the worst time to do it, so I remain silent, while he continues to let go of everything he has accumulated, possibly even before this terrible day.
I feel his pain, and it becomes mine to the point where I have to fight the urge to cry the same tears as him. I can't dispel it, and I know I never will. Faced with this, I myself am powerless and speechless. All I can do is what I do best: be there, without moving. Gradually, despite his infinite sorrow engulfed in the scent of lavender, I feel it calming down, while my stomach knots even tighter in return.
"Time is a huge asshole, Klaus", I tell him with a heavy heart and gritted teeth, "but if there's anything it does..."
I think of my mother. It's been nine years now.
"... it's fading the pain, little by little. It never truly goes away, but the happy memories take over. I know it may be too soon to tell you this... but it's all I can do".
Klaus listens, but I can tell he can't imagine things getting better. And I sigh because maybe he doesn't remember, but the apocalyptic outcome announced by Five is still coming, just 3 days away.
"I hope you're right", he says to me with the obvious desire to blow his nose in my ear.
"Now I understand what people mean. I truly don't know which pain is worse, the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will".
I painfully close my eyes because I understand this deep within my bones. He ends up letting me go because he has an intense urge to scratch, which I immediately recognize since I've felt it once before. It will bother him for a few hours, but the effects of time travel fade away quicker than the tears it brings to our lives.
I watch him thoroughly wash his hands in the bathtub water, his gaze fixed on the 'Hello' tattoo on his right palm, which he then uses to rub his eyes. 'Hello', 'Goodbye': these words carry far deeper meaning than a self-deprecating analogy of the human ouija board he is, yet hardly anyone knows. They also serve as a reminder of the unpredictable nature of our lives: what comes and goes, what we encounter and what we leave behind. Agonies and first breaths. 'Even in the darkest caves, there is light', if Klaus possesses only one power, it is the ability to remember this against all odds. I don't know how he does it: from his own darkness... he always comes back.
"I was genuinely scared for you when I realized you weren't returning", I confess, feeling insignificant compared to everything just said.
I glance at my watch. Right now, I feel an overwhelming desire to smash it into pieces.
And as he sits in his bath in a way that reassures me that he's not going to collapse again, he says to me, considering these thirty-six hours which in reality are ten months :
"I actually missed you too".
It was a pretty painful scene to write, you can guess so. But I think it's an interesting addition to what is seen next in the series, when Five visits Klaus in his room, as Klaus appears to be relatively functional at that time.
This chapter is an opportunity to discuss our places in the history of the world, which is often indirectly addressed in The Umbrella Academy. I also seized the chance to share my thoughts on Klaus's 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' tattoos, believing it was the appropriate moment.
Soon, we'll find out if Rin is able to disclose what she had chosen to remain silent about. In all honesty, it wasn't the appropriate time.
Any comments will make my day!