Chapter Text
Leonard is clunky with the violin, at first, but Vanya knows that with enough practise, he’ll be able to manage it.
He’s not the same as her other students – excluding the age factor, of course – in that he doesn’t have the same brightness in his eyes at learning the violin. There’s something there, of course, a willingness to understand, to create music, but she’s not sure he enjoys it as much as her students.
There is no wonder there.
But then again, that might just be a side effect of learning a new skill as an adult. Vanya knows herself, when she’d tried to learn Russian – something about trying to understand her roots, her heritage – that she’d been so busy focusing on what she should know, that she hadn’t been able to enjoy what she did.
She nods her head either way, as he brings the bow back and forth, practising technique and basic notes.
“That’s coming along,” Vanya says, and Leonard glances up from where he’s focusing on the strings, flashes a nervous smile.
“Looks like I chose the right teacher,” he says, and as if realising that they’ve been here an hour now, that they’re reaching the end of the session, he lowers the bow, lifts the violin from the crook between his chin and his shoulder.
Vanya takes the violin from him, places it beside her on the couch. A faint smile lifts on her lips as she says, “Oh I don’t know about that, I think you’re doing well because you’re focused.”
Leonard has an easy grin at the praise.
“So – I’ll see you in a little over a week?” She asks, opening her diary for a timetable. Leonard nods his head, and they spend a few minutes trying to gather the right time that works for both of them. It doesn’t take long. “If you can practise the bow hold until then, and maybe get a violin, I think it’ll help a lot.”
Leonard stands, and Vanya mirrors him. Stretching her legs after being sat down for a while is almost like a godsend. After a second, he scratches at his cheek, and says, “you can be honest, do you think it’s weird wanting to learn violin this late in life?”
Shaking her head, Vanya says, “no. Monet didn’t really start painting until his forties and he did all right for himself.”
It’s not a strange question to ask though, Vanya knows. People always seem to think that it’s strange to want to learn something at a later age, but really, the saying that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, has always been a little false.
“No,” she continues, because Leonard doesn’t seem too convinced, “if you love music, then you’re in the right place.”
She gets a small smile in response to that, one that’s brimming with an almost awkward energy. Vanya empathises with him from that energy alone. For pushing past it to do something he wants to.
“I’d say you’re describing my dad more than me,” Leonard says, unhooking his coat and folding it over his arm. “He was always the music lover. It’s kind of why I’m here – he passed away a while ago.”
Vanya doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s probably not a good idea to say ‘me too’ in regards to deceased father’s, so she simply bites her lip and says, “oh, I’m sorry.”
He must sense that the topic is making Vanya awkward, because Leonard waves his hand, as if trying to dispel the negative energy. He says, “Oh, no, it’s fine. We had a… complicated relationship. Didn’t really get each other, you know?”
She understands the feeling so well, that it sends a sharp pain through her chest. Vanya nods, urging him to continue.
“But he loved violin and that was not my thing.” Now, Leonard scratches at the back of his hand, shifts from one foot to the other. “So, I guess I’m here to… understand him better, if that makes any sense?”
“Yeah,” Vanya says, “that makes sense.”
“Family, huh.” Leonard says, around a small laugh, “it’s never easy, but… well, they’re worth it.”
Vanya thinks of Klaus, and of Five, and finds herself smiling. They are worth it. Definitely.
“Sorry for getting heavy on you there,” Leonard says. “It probably seems silly or something.”
Absolutely not. Vanya thinks it’s admirable actually. She doesn’t know if she’d ever consider trying to understand her own father more than she does. There’s too much bad energy there, and Vanya can’t imagine. While she doubts Leonard had the same upbringing, she still finds it inspiring that he can push past any complications to try and understand his father more.
Despite how complicated they are, he must have loved him.
“No,” Vanya says, “silly is not knowing why you’re doing something. Believe me, I get it.”
They stand in silence for a moment, and then Leonard dips his head, glancing at the floor. He says, “Well, I guess I’ll see you at our next session?”
Vanya nods.
Opening the door to her apartment, Leonard lets it swing open, catching it with his hand before it can bang. He hesitates, pausing as he glances out at the corridor before turning back. Then, he says, “Uh – I’m a woodworker. I have a shop, in Bricktown. You should come by, some time? Maybe? You know, come check it out?”
It’s a sweet offer.
Even though she hardly knows Leonard, Vanya thinks that maybe she’d like to. He seems kind, nice enough even if he’s lacking in confidence. He reminds her, very faintly, of herself, a kindred spirit who is anxious and not quite sure where they fit in.
Maybe she’s reading more into him than there is, but that’s the impression she’s getting.
Still, Vanya offers a smile, a small nod. She says, “sure, if I can find the time, I’ll pop in. What’s the name…?”
Leonard’s face visibly brightens and he passes her the name to his shop, waits as she writes the shop’s name down on a scrap piece of paper, folding it into her pocket. Vanya doesn’t know if she’ll manage to find her way to the shop anytime soon, not when she’s promised to help Five, but she’ll try and figure something out.
“I’ll see you then,” Leonard says, and he steps out into the corridor, shifting into his jacket. He pulls at the sleeves, making himself more comfortable. “Thanks, Vanya.”
Vanya offers him a small wave, says bye and then slowly bites into her lip. She listens to his footsteps as they echo down the hall, holding onto the doorknob. There’s a point when she can hear Leonard mumble a short, “excuse me,” and then, to her knowledge, he’s gone.
And for a moment, Vanya is alone.
Then, there’s more muttering from downstairs, and she recognises those voices. Into the corridor she calls, “Klaus? Five?”
There’s short laughter, and then, someone is running up the stairs, their footsteps heavy. She can tell, already, from how breathless the laugh is, that it’s Klaus. Even before she sees him.
“We’re back,” Five calls back, and then, with a flash of blue, he appears just in front of her by the door.
“Welcome back,” she says, and then, notices that his lip is split, faint bruising. Vanya stills.
“When I said we’d race up,” Klaus says a second later. Vanya turns to look at him and pales. He’s bleeding, why are they both bleeding, all they’d decided to do was ask for a name for the prosthetic, they weren’t supposed to be fighting. “I meant, we both run, not me run and you use your powers.”
“Maybe,” Five says, moving past Vanya and heading into her apartment, “you should have specified that.”
Klaus scowls, and then, meeting Vanya’s gaze, he rolls his eyes. Vanya tries to offer a smile, grimaces instead and rushes forward, grabbing his chin to glance at the wound where he’s bleeding.
“I thought I told you to be careful?” She hisses, pulling him nearer. Klaus lets out a low whine, like a wounded animal, or a lectured child, but doesn’t pull back. He simply shrugs, and that’s supposed to be his answer?
Oh, one of these days she’s going to kill him for making her worry so much.
“Technically,” Klaus says, “you said not to do anything stupid.”
“Did you?” Vanya asks, and sighs when his lips twitch upwards. She sighs, says, “get inside. I’ll clean your wound out while you explain how the stupid thing you did, was not, in fact, stupid.”
Five fills her in while she grabs the first aid kit.
Tells her of the emotional manipulation Klaus had used to gain access to the records – shockingly, she finds herself lacking in surprise – mentions how the eye hadn’t been bought yet, least of all manufactured.
It is, all in all, a bust.
Vanya pretty sure she’d known it’d not gone well before they’d even said so, but to hear it said aloud, is almost heart shattering. Not because she thinks they should know something, but because the way Five looks as he admits they’ve gotten nowhere is nothing short of horrible.
He’s a mixture of enraged and lost.
“We’ll figure it out,” Vanya says, dabbing at Klaus’s wound with a wipe. She’s finished picking out all the pieces of glass she can find with tweezers, and now, she just needs to clean out the wound. For once in his life, Klaus is still, not showing his pain on his face, but in the tension of his shoulders.
“The world will end if we don’t,” Five bites. And then, as if realising that being angry at them isn’t a good idea, he stands, says that he’s going to make himself the coffee.
“Time to brainstorm, huh guys?” Klaus says after a moment. Vanya presses against the cut, just enough to wipe away more dried blood. He doesn’t flinch – Klaus, she knows, has been through worse living on the streets. “We could make a mind map or some shit.”
Five glowers from the counter, and says, “Can’t you take this seriously?”
“I am being serious,” Klaus whines. Vanya sends him a look, and he quietens, knowing that anything further will just aggravate their brother further.
Coffee acquired, Five sits himself on the table opposite them. He says, “So within eight days, someone’s going to acquire that eye prosthetic.”
Vanya throws the wipe down, grabs some gauze and presses it against Klaus’s head. It’s just below his hair line, and so gingerly, she sticks it down with medical tape, not bothering with a bandage.
“Avoid my lovely locks,” Klaus says, and Vanya offers him a smile.
“Well, we might not have a name,” Vanya says, “but we’ve still got details about the eye, right?”
Five grumbles, but even he can’t deny it.
“Like, we know that the person who gets the eye, will be buying it within the next eight days,” she continues.
“Correct,” Five mutters.
“And we know that they have the eye…” Vanya takes a moment to pause, conjuring the thoughts, “...fixed? Put in? By the eighth day, right?”
Her brothers both look at her, waiting to see where she’s going.
“If they’re fighting the others, then, surely, they’d gotten out of the surgery for the fitting, right? So, can’t we assume that the eye is fitted within seven days?” Vanya asks. She bites her lip, looks between them. Searching for something to do, to avoid their gazes, she closes the first aid kit, throws used wipes into the bin.
“It might just be a replacement prosthetic though,” Five sighs. “It’s impossible to know.”
Ever so slowly, Klaus raises his hand, like a student waiting to be called on by the teacher. Five pauses, waits for Klaus to say something, and once he’s realised that the man won’t say anything unprompted, he says, “What is it Klaus?”
“Why’re you guys trying to figure it out by yourselves?” Klaus says.
Five’s eye twitches. Vanya’s pretty sure that he’s halfway to an aneurysm, it’s something that those unused to Klaus are always at risk of receiving, she supposes.
“What the fuck do you think we’re–”
Klaus cuts him off by waving his hand. He says, “yeah, I get the whole end of the world thing, I’m not saying we shouldn’t figure it out. I’m saying, why are you trying to do all the work when you’ve got someone else who can do it for you?”
Vanya sighs. She’s sure her brother has a point, it’s just… Klaus hasn’t always been the best at explaining his point of view.
“Klaus,” she says, “what do you mean, exactly?”
Klaus offers her the hint of a smile, and for a second, she watches as his hand slides into his pocket. He brings out a cigarette instead of a pill, looks at Vanya in quiet question, and when she shrugs, lights it up.
“I’m saying,” he says, smoke curling in wisps around his fingertips, “that trying to figure it out is stupid, when we can get that prosthetic company to look into it for us.”
Five grits his teeth and lets out a sound that’s almost like a snarl. It’s feral, wild and for a moment, Vanya stares at him, anxiety spiking through her. He says, “What do you think today was, Klaus, we tried and failed.”
Klaus glances past them, and for a moment, he’s not focused on them. He’s seeing something that’s not there.
Vanya swallows.
“Five,” she says, “Klaus isn’t trying to… irritate you, I think there is a point here I just… he’s not always the best at getting things across.”
Five watches her for a moment, and while he looks like he doesn’t want to hear another word, he sips back at his coffee and doesn’t bite into their brother, remaining quiet.
“Okay,” Klaus says, and it’s hard to tell if he’s talking to them, or the air. “Let me try again.”
He turns back to Five, watching his brother.
“Why do the work, when we’ve got Grant to do it for us.” Five blinks, and it’s almost as if some understanding finally dawns on his face. Klaus continues, “Meditech just seems so clean, you know? And Grant – fuck, alright whatever Lance – he was hiding something. We poked at one of his secrets.”
Slowly, Five says, “We applied pressure, and now we just need to wait him out, to see if he caves.”
Vanya doesn’t quite understand what’s happening. She echoes as much, waits for her brothers to explain. This time, Five lays the information out.
“If Lance has a secret that we can find out the truth about,” Five says, “then we’ve got someone who’ll give us the information on the eye when it shows up.”
“You’re talking about blackmailing a man,” Vanya says, her voice wobbling.
“I mean, we’ve already blackmailed him once,” Klaus says, “another time is hardly going to hurt.”
Vanya glares at him.
Is she the only one of their siblings who was raised with morals, and had clearly decided to follow them? That’s not fair, she knows, but it’s hardly fair to be blackmailing someone.
She bites her lip. In the grand scheme of things, if there is going to be an apocalypse, then blackmail is little in comparison. Still, should she be justifying it? Would she be able to stop her brothers either way?
Opposite her, Five leans forward. He says, “well, that’s a plan then. We’ll start watching Meditech, and Lance. See if we can’t find anything out about him.”
Klaus leans back against his chair, offers a breathless laugh. He says, “Who thought stopping the apocalypse could be so entertaining