Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Klaus Sauer couldn’t really remember his birth mother. Sometimes, if he thought on it hard - something he wasn’t inclined to do - there were flashes. Hazy images of a woman with his eyes and a deep frown. Cold, close walls around him. Crying and crying and crying. Logically, he thought that it was improbable that any of those were true memories. More likely, they were the product of his mind trying to fill that blank space of the first four years of his life. There was nothing in his pseudo-memories that hadn’t been recorded in his CPS file in sharp, 12 point print.

His first concrete memory was of a spiteful boy he shared a room with in one of the children’s homes. The boy would push and shove when the adults weren’t looking. Eventually, Klaus told him about the way the ghost of his father watched the boy sleep, and the boy had gone and told, and then Klaus was moved out of that home. It was a pattern in Klaus’ childhood. Eventually, he would freak someone out and he would be moved on for ‘disturbing the other children’, or because his foster parents would think he was ‘too strange’ or whatever.

Klaus would like to say that he broke that cycle when he aged out of the system, but it would be a lie.

From the age of eighteen, he had bounced between stints in psychiatric facilities and shelters and brief, loveless relationships. Sometimes, some good Samaritan type would let them into their home for a few weeks, until they realised that Klaus wasn’t the kind that you fix. It wasn’t just that he had fallen onto hard times; Klaus’ life was hard times. He would invariably fuck things up, even when his hallucinations were being kept to a minimum by his careful regiment of anti-psychotics. His employment history was equally spotty. He had a few brief jobs at bars or shops, where he would eventually be fired for trying to serve people who weren’t there. It was never consistent enough to keep an apartment.

So, that was Klaus’ life. Unemployed, mostly. Homeless, mostly. And alone. Mostly… if you didn’t count them.

Klaus had been young when he started to display symptoms - or, at least, that’s what was said in the file that his social worker and doctor would tut over, and the police report that had put him into the system. Figures would appear to him, sometimes sad and pale, other times bloody and screaming. Even as a child, he had known that it wasn’t normal. He was six years old when diagnosed. The doctor had been hesitant - it was rare to develop visual hallucinations so young, especially without the language and motor defects that usually preceded it - but eventually had to conclude that he had very early onset schizophrenia. He had been on anti-psychotics ever since.

The anti-psychotics didn’t help as much as he would like. He knew that it was worse when he hadn’t been on them, when he was a hysterical six year old child, shrieking about the monsters who wanted him dead. Now, the hallucinations were quieter. Sometimes he would hear the screaming and begging, but some nights he could get a full eight hours of sleep. Faces flickered at the edge of his vision, and sometimes one would walk around like they owned the place, but it wasn’t the hoards of people that he had once seen. It was enough that he wasn’t institutionalised indefinitely, but not enough to actually get his life together. He was in limbo.

Klaus tried his best not to interact with his hallucinations. It wasn't like they were particularly friendly, so he had never felt the need to start conversations with them, even at his loneliest. Recently, though, that had changed.

He had first seen Ben when he was eighteen and newly independent, which for him meant out on the streets with little to no future prospects. Then, he had been a gruesome sight, blood soaked and mangled. Still, he hadn't screamed, which for Klaus meant that he wasn't too bothered. Klaus had gone to sleep, and when he awoke, the boy was gone. He hadn't seen him again for a few months when he appeared again, looking puzzled and slightly less gruesome. Gradually, he had become one of Klaus’ most frequent hallucinations, although he rarely stayed long, always looking lost.

It was until around a year ago, when Klaus was twenty seven, that Ben had spoken to him. He had been staying with some guy had invited him inside when he saw Klaus huddled up in the doorway to his apartment block, trying to avoid the rain. The guy was kind of cute, if a little weird, all intense looks and secretive smiles. They had screwed that night, and Klaus had been allowed to stay. A couple of weeks in, Klaus had woken up with a bad feeling.

“Klaus. Klaus, you gotta go,” a voice whispered in English.

There, at the end of the bed, stood the once bloody boy that he has been seeing for years. Klaus blinked, and reminded himself that he wasn't real, before lying back down.

“No, Klaus, seriously! I don't like this guy - he's sitting out there in the dark with a fucking knife like something out of a horror movie. You need to get out of there!”

Klaus frowned. The guy wasn't in bed, he noticed, which was strange at four am. Or was he just getting paranoid? He had probably just gotten up to get water or something. Sure, the man was a little strange, but that didn’t mean he was some kind of psycho killer! He was probably just a good Samaritan hero type. Right.

The door creaked open.

Klaus closed his eyes, tried to even out his breathing. For a moment, he was back in the group home, listening to one of the workers check that everyone had gone to bed.

“Fuck, fuck, get up, get up!” the boy chanted at his feet, voice pitching upwards.

It’s not real. It’s not real.

Klaus opened his eyes.

Hovering over him, his so called good Samaritan was stood, a kitchen knife clutched in a shaking hand.

“Fuck!” yelped Klaus. He tackled the man, fuelled by instinct and adrenaline, shoving him away. The man hit the wall, but not before Klaus got a shallow slash along his bicep.

“Run!” cried the boy.

Klaus ran.

Later, at a free clinic, Klaus watched his arm get bandaged with glassy eyes, blank with shock. Nothing made sense. How had his hallucination know something that Klaus didn’t? Unless the whole incident had been a hallucination, and the man had never attacked him in the first place. But then, how did he explain the knife wound? Klaus was attempting to put the ill fitting puzzle pieces together, but there were holes in the picture they formed. Unable to make sense of it, Klaus resolved to avoid that part of town altogether - whether the attack was real or not, he didn’t want to run into the guy again.

After that incident, Ben started sticking around longer, chatting easily about nothing in particular. Klaus tried not to show interest, but he would slip from time to time, replying before he caught himself. He tried to remind himself that Ben wasn’t real, just a symptom of his illness, but it was hard when the boy seemed so vivid . Over time, Klaus began to learn more about Ben. He told stories of a family over in America, five siblings and a distant father. On one particularly miserable night, in the stark room of a mental health facility (the hallucinations had been bad enough that Klaus was left shrieking on a busy street until the police were called), Ben had told him stories of the Umbrella Academy, of child superheroes, and Klaus laughed and laughed. He remembered those kids - the news of an American group of teen heroes had reached Germany quickly, and in dingy children’s homes, Klaus had dreamed of being adopted by some rich guy and discovering powers. He speculated that some part of his subconscious had latched on to that, and now used it as material for his hallucinations. Hilarious.

There was one thing that stuck with him after that. It had been a long time since Klaus had thought about family. He had accepted young that no one wanted to adopt a psychotic child, and had given up any hope of being part of a family. The way Ben talked about his siblings - despite the horror of their missions and their father - it sounded special. Klaus tried to imagine it, having someone he could trust to have his best interests at heart. The closest he had ever come to that was Ben.

He found his mind drifting to his mother often. He hadn’t seen her since he was four, and he told himself that it was for the best. He couldn’t remember her, but he could remember the pitying looks from his social worker, and thought that it must have been pretty bad. He liked to tell himself that it didn’t matter, that she was nothing to him, but at night when he couldn’t sleep, questions circled. He just wanted to know why.

And that’s how he had ended up here, on his birth mother’s doorstep, his finger hovering over the doorbell.

“Go on,” urged Ben.

“Shut up,” said Klaus, switching to English. For whatever reason, this hallucination didn’t respond to German, acting like he didn’t understand.

Klaus rang the bell.

Seconds stretched as he waited, gut hot and twisting. He rubbed his palms over his torn jeans, crossed his arms, uncrossed them. He wished he had something smarter to wear. Why was he doing this?

The door opened.

“What do you want?” croaked the woman. She was somewhat pretty, or would have been, if her cheeks weren’t so hollow, lips creased from too many cigarettes. Her eyes - green, like his - flickered around in a suspicious squint.

“I- uh,” Klaus faltered. She looked like him.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,” she said, moving to close the door.

“Wait!” Klaus cried, stopping the door with one hand, before realising how intimidating that might seem. “Sorry,” he said, stepping back a little. “I just want to talk.”

The woman frowned. “Who are you? Do I know you?”

“Yes. Well, no, but I’m... “ -your son. “I’m Klaus.”

A second of confusion, and then her eyes lit up with recognition. “Huh. Never thought I’d be seeing you again.”

Klaus shifted. Her tone was neutral, and her expression was hard to read. “Right.”

“Well, I expect you’ll want to come in, then,” she said, letting the door fall open and walking farther into the house. Klaus took this as an invitation, and followed her inside.

The house was small and dark and strikingly familiar. Klaus couldn’t recall any memories of what had happened here, but the lines of the walls filled Klaus with a cold sense of dread. He tried to imagine himself as a four year old, calling this place home. This wasn’t the sort of place that anyone would call home. The air stunk of ash and alcohol, empty bottles lining up on flat surfaces, empty take out containers stacked in corners, and incongruously, crosses hanging on every wall.

The woman sat heavily on the worn sofa, lighting up a cigarette. Klaus hesitated before perching on the armchair, leaning forward as if ready to run at a moments notice. “What should I call you?” he asked.

The woman shrugged. “Probably a bit late for mum. Gaelle is fine,” she said, taking a drag.

“Alright,” said Klaus. He had come with questions, but they had dried up on his tongue, something in his bones imploring him to leave this place and never look back.

“So, what do you want? Because if it’s money, I don’t have any,” she said, crossing her legs.

“Not money,” said Klaus, resisting the urge to hunch in on himself. “Just- answers, I guess.”

“Well,” she said with a touch of irony, “ask away.”

Klaus swallowed. “I don’t remember what- what you did. But I read the police report. I just want to know why.”

Gaelle gave him a cool look. “What else do you do, when you realise your child is the fucking Antichrist?”

Klaus flinched as if he’d been slapped. “What?” he breathed.

She shook her head slowly, dark green eyes never leaving his. “When you were born, I thought maybe you were a gift from God. Immaculate conception, y’know? I thought I was Mary.”

“ What? ” repeated Klaus, lost.

“It took a couple of years, but I figured it out. It wasn’t God. It was the devil. You were… you knew things that only the devil would know.”

“I was a kid,” said Klaus. “I was a kid, and I was sick.”

Gaelle’s expression turned distant. “I was trying to help. I was trying to starve the devil out of you, don’t you see?”

“You’re crazy,” said Klaus, standing on shaking legs.

“I should have let him take you. He offered to buy you, y’know, along with all the other abominations,” she said, voice bitter.

“Others?” questioned Klaus.

“The other forty two like you,” said Gaelle.

“I don’t understand,” he said, hating how small his voice was. His eyes caught on a closed door, something tickling at the back of his brain, something important. It had a deadbolt on it.

“You think you were the only kid born with this curse?” she said, but was drifting away from her, towards the door.

“I don’t understand,” Klaus repeated, voice barely a whisper.

“God, all those fucking doctors got you fooled, huh? You forget everything I taught you?”

With shaking fingers, Klaus pulled back the deadbolt and opened the door. Bile rose in his throat. It wasn’t the crosses, at least a hundred of them, hammered onto every inch of the wall. It wasn’t even the scratch marks on the door, blood stained gouges at the height of a child. It was the memory.

For a second, Klaus was four years old and begging, mum, please, I’m scared, I’ll be good, please, I’m so thirsty, please, mum, and the room was dark and the walls were closing in and he was clawing until his fingernails broke but no one was coming, and-

He took a shaking breath, pushing down the whine that was caught behind his teeth.

“You really think that you’re just ill, huh? Just some poor schizophrenic. Don’t pretend you’re the victim. You’re unnatural. You ruined my life, and then I had to watch all those fucking Umbrella Academy kids run around, everyone celebrating them, like they weren’t spitting in the face of God-”

Klaus ran. Out, out of the house, along the street, as far as his legs would carry him. He ran until he couldn’t anymore, leaning against a wall on a street he didn’t know, panting, legs buckling. Sweat was beading on his face, mingling with the tears that had escaped his eyes. “What the fuck,” he muttered. “What the fuck.”

“Just breathe, dude,” said a voice in English.

Klaus twitched, but it was just Ben, leaning over him with a concerned expression. The boy sat, legs crossed, and leaned back against the wall. “Y’know, it makes a lot of sense. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

“What?” asked Klaus, wiping his hands over his damp cheeks.

“You. You’re like me. One of the kids with powers,” said Ben.

Klaus groaned. “Will you please start making sense?”

“The Umbrella Academy weren’t the only kids with powers born that day. You’re one of us.”

“This is crazy,” said Klaus. “This is just- a delusion, or something.”

“No, I swear!” denied Ben.

Klaus grinned. “Oh, well if my hallucination says that it’s real.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Ben. “I can prove it.”

“Oh yeah?” challenged Klaus.

“You can look it up! It was all over the news at the time.”

Klaus sighed, pushing himself up to standing. “Well, I guess we better find me a library.”

Chapter Text

The library was large and dignified, and Klaus felt small and dirty besides it. The librarians eyed him warily - he wasn't sure if it was due to his bold floral blouse, or his slightly manic expression - but no one asked him to leave, and that was good enough. He found his way to the microfilm readers, and Ben helped him find where the relevant newspapers were archived, since none of the employees seemed inclined to help. After some trial and error, Klaus was looking at the headline from the day after his birth.

IMMACULATE CONCEPTIONS LEAVE DOCTORS BAFFLED.

Over 30 cases of strange births. Mother's report that they were not pregnant until they went into labour.

Klaus read on. The whole things suddenly seemed real, like it might be a genuine possibility. Here it was in print, irrefutable evidence. The newspaper stated that reports had come from all over the world: Russia, England, Mexico. Germany.

Could it be true?

"Okay," said Klaus, quiet, not wanting to alarm anyone by talking to thin air. 'I'll admit that it's not impossible, but I still think it's unlikely."

Ben rolled his eyes. "I'm dead. You can see dead people. You have powers!"

"Or I'm schizophrenic," muttered Klaus.

"But I'm real! You can look me up, my death was all over the news."

"That won't prove anything," Klaus countered. "I might have read it at the time. For all I know, Ben did die, and you're still just a hallucination.'

"Okay, okay," said Ben, frowning. "Then how can we prove that I’m real?"

'I don't know," sighed Klaus, leaning back in his seat. The more he thought about it, the more crazy it sounded. Maybe he should talk to a doctor. Maybe he needed to up his meds.

"Wait,' said Ben, “Dad.”

“Huh?” said Klaus.

“My adopted father - Reginald Hargreeves - he had a list of all the kids he couldn’t buy. He might still have it.”

“Jesus. Your dad sounds like an asshole,” said Klaus, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of being noted, observed . “So what, I just call him up and-”

“No, no, no. You can’t. I don’t want you getting involved with him,” said Ben, voice pitched low and anxious.

Klaus didn’t like the look on Ben’s face. He’d seen it too often, kids coming into the home with that same downtrodden, fearful expression. He knew what abuse victims looked like, and he hated that Ben looked that way. “Ah, I see,” Klaus said glibly, “you want me all to yourself, huh? Can’t bear to share?”

“Shut up,” laughed Ben, flapping a hand at Klaus ineffectually. Klaus was relieved to see the hunted expression fade from his eyes.

“It’s okay, I understand. I promise, I won’t forget about you, Ben, my dear,” sang Klaus, earning several worried looks from the other library patrons.

“I’m serious,” whined Ben, crossing his arms.

“Okay, okay, I won’t go near him. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said, grinning.

Ben said, “You’re the worst.”

“It’s been said. Anyway, any other bright ideas?”

Ben huffed, defeated.

“Well…” drawled Klaus, “this really left me with more questions than answers.”

“Wait, I- what if you found my siblings?”

“What?”

“They know the most, after dad. They might even be able to find out more from dad, without letting him know about you,” said Ben.

Klaus hesitated. He wanted to trust Ben, he did, but… “This isn’t-” he faltered. “If this is just some ploy to get me to speak to your siblings for you-”

“What? No. No,” said Ben, expression hurt.

“Sorry. Sorry, I just…” Klaus stopped, chewing on his thumbnail. Was he just apologising to a hallucination? The whole thing felt surreal, and he worried that he had lost his grip on reality completely.

“Look, do I want to see my siblings again? Sure. But I wouldn’t have said it unless I thought it was your best option. I’m trying to help,” Ben said earnestly.

Klaus groaned. “How the hell would I even do it, anyway? I don’t have the kind of money to hop on a plane to America, y’know.”

“We can figure it out. We just need a plan.”

Unfortunately, any further planning was interrupted by a nervous looking librarian, who asked him to please leave the library, as he was being disruptive. Klaus always thought it was hilarious, the way people avoided saying that he was behaving like a lunatic. Still, he took pity on the poor guy, and left the library to go find somewhere to stay for the night.

It took five months for Klaus to save enough money for a plane ticket. He managed to score a few temporary jobs, and to stay mostly off the streets. On a few occasions, when he was feeling particularly desperate, he let a guy take him home in exchange for cash. It wasn’t something he enjoyed doing, and didn’t like the pitying way that Ben would look at him afterwards, like he was waiting for him to break, but it was a good way to make money fast. He was even more frugal than usual, trying to survive on soup kitchens and food banks alone, not allowing himself new clothes even when his were worn to rags. He did begrudgingly pay for his prescription every month, even when Ben begged him not to. If he found out that he was mentally ill, that he wasn’t one of the forty three, he didn’t want to have been fooled completely.

When he counted his hard earned cash and bought the plane ticket, he started crying without knowing why.

“Klaus? What’s wrong?” asked Ben, who had barely left his side since meeting his birth mother.

“I don’t know,” said Klaus with a wet laugh. “I guess I never thought I would travel. I figured I’d be stuck here forever.”

Ben smiled sadly. “Well, you’re not. You did it, man!”

“I did it,” breathed Klaus, shaking is head in disbelief. “I’m going to America! Holy shit!”

By the time he was on the plane, he was positively vibrating. He didn’t allow himself to react to Ben, not wanting to get kicked off the plane, even when Ben groused loudly about his lack of seat. In Klaus’ defence, he didn’t have the money to splurge on his maybe-ghost-maybe-hallucination. He had, admittedly, started leaving room for Ben in his everyday life, pulling out chairs for him whenever he could. If it turns out that this was all a particularly creative delusion, Klaus’ would feel like an idiot, but he wanted to be kind in case Ben was real.

Klaus kept his eyes glued to the window. He had dreamed of flying often as a child, staring up at the bunk above him. He had imagined being able to float up and away. This wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close, and there was something peaceful about being so far away from the dull troubles of real life for a while.

When he got too antsy, he skimmed through the notebook he had been keeping, along with Vanya Hargreeves’ biography. Klaus and Ben had been attempting to track down the rest of the academy, but it was proving difficult. The easiest to find information on were Allison, through various celebrity magazines, and Vanya, through her book. He had gathered from Extra Ordinary that Vanya had never left the city she had grown up in. She had done several readings when the book was published, but those had dried up. He had tried calling her publicist, but they refused to give out any information. Allison, on the other hand, had moved across the country to California. She had never given out her home address - obviously - but Klaus figured that with the crowd she attracted, he would be able to track her down eventually. Hence, Klaus was going to the West Coast.

The air was warm and humid when Klaus stepped off of the plane, and Klaus felt relieved that he was wearing his crop top. The sky looked different, more vibrant, but Klaus thought that it was probably his imagination. Still, he felt pretty good about the whole thing. America!

From there, he donned his backpack, carrying his meagre collection of clothes, and hitchhiked from the airport. He was picked up surprisingly quickly by two older women with hippy vibes. It was pretty rare for women to pick him up - usually it was some older guy with wandering eyes - but he wasn’t about to complain. They chatted happily with him, complementing his English. If there was one thing that Klaus was good at, it was languages, which made the whole travelling thing seem a little less daunting. The pair played folk music that Klaus had never heard, and Ben was in the seat next to him, looking more excited than Klaus had ever seen him.

Klaus decided that even if his mother had been lying, even if Ben wasn’t real, the trip had been worth it, just for this uninhibited moment of joy.

Once he had gotten into Los Angeles, it was already nearly dark. Klaus began scouting for somewhere to sleep; he wasn’t expecting to find any shelters in this nice part of the city, where Allison was often photographed. Klaus had converted the little money left over after his plane ticket into dollars, but it wouldn’t be enough to get a room for more than a couple nights, so he was on the hunt for somewhere that the cops weren’t likely to move him on. Eventually, he settled on an alley that hadn’t been claimed by any other homeless. Ben leaned against the grimy bricks, looking at Klaus’ choice of accommodation with a regretful expression.

“I really hope this isn’t for nothing,” muttered Klaus.

“Me too,” said Ben.

The next day, Klaus looked around for a job. It took a while - he didn’t exactly have a resume with him - but he eventually found some cash in hand work. He was hired to pass out flyers to tourists around Santa Monica Pier. The flyers were for a psychic. Yes, he was aware of the irony. Apparently, his light German accent and lined eyes made the establishment seem more legitimate.

When he wasn’t working, he was haunting ( ha )  Allison’s more frequent spots. He had determined that she semi-regularly stopped for coffee at a fancy cafe, and sometimes shopped at a strip of boutiques. He wasted time loitering, Ben by his side, people watching. Klaus whined constantly, and threatened to give up every ten minutes or so, but both boys knew that he would stay. He had nothing in Germany to go back for.

A few weeks passed like that. It was the closest to a routine that Klaus had managed for a long time. The ghosts were still bothering him, dulled by his medication as they were, but in the LA crowds, they were difficult to distinguish from the living. Plus, something about having a tangible goal in mind helped him stay focused.

When he finally spotted Allison, he thought he might have imagined her. Klaus elbowed Ben, or attempted to, shivering at the cold sensation. “Ben,” he hissed. “Over there.”

Ben followed his gaze, straightening up. “Holy shit! That’s her!”

Klaus immediately set off, trying to maintain a purposeful walk without breaking into a run. He didn’t want to scare her off before he even had a chance to talk to her. When he caught up to her, he was slightly breathless, calling out, “Allison!”

The woman turned, face half hidden behind huge cat-eyes sunglasses. “Hi,” she said, “sorry, but I can’t sign anything right now, I’m in a hurry.” She span and started off again.

“Wait, Allison, wait,” yelped Klaus, half skipping to keep up with her long strides.

“Not today,” she reiterated tiredly.

“Please, just-”

Ben interrupted. “Call her Allie.”

“ Allie!”

The woman froze in place for a moment. Then she whirled around, the motion almost clumsy. “What did you call me?” she asked, voice wooden.

“Allie?” Klaus repeated, uncertain.

Allison took a step towards Klaus. He pulled back slightly; she was rather intimidating. “ I heard a rumour,” she said, voice echoing through Klaus’ skull, “that you stopped talking to me.”

Klaus opened his mouth and- crap.

Allison gave him a fake smile, half smug and half pained, before marching off.

“Ah. Didn’t really think that through,” said Ben.

“God damn it!” cried Klaus. “What was that all about?”

“Allie is what I used to call her,” Ben explained.

Klaus sighed, rubbing his palms over his face. “Great. So will that wear off, or can I never speak to her again?”

Ben grimaced. “Probably permanent.”

Klaus folded his arms and stomped his foot like a tantrum-throwing child. “Well, fuck me.”

They were back to square one.

Chapter Text

Klaus was a little sad to be leaving California.

It might be, thought Klaus, the first time he had ever been sad to leave anywhere. It wasn’t surprising; he had spent 29 years moving from shithole to the next. He had never needed to try to stay unattached before, and now here he was, about to travel across the country with his heart heavy. He was leaving behind the shadow of stability that he had scrounged up. His job passing out fliers on the pier, the shelter where he knew everyone’s name, the fancy coffee shop that he would sometimes splurge at. In another world, he thought, this could be a home. But he couldn’t settle. Not until he knew the truth, until he knew whether his ghosts were real.

He hitchhiked across the country. The sheer distance was mind boggling. You couldn’t drive for 9 hours in Germany without leaving the country. Here, it took him five days to get to New York. Fortunately, there were a lot of truckers driving long hours who were willing to pick up a hitchhiker. Most of them were at least a little creepy, but one nice guy took him all the way from Denver to Chicago, and even bought him some food on the way. Luckily for Klaus (but not so luckily the trucker), Klaus reminded the guy of his dead son, apparently. When Klaus was dropped off in Chicago, he caught sight of a tall, pale man hovering at his shoulder, and Ben gave him a look that said I told you so .

Once in New York City, Klaus went on the hunt for a library. His next best chance was Vanya. He read in her biography that she hadn’t moved far from the academy. He also knew from the about the author section of her book that she still played in an orchestra. He figured that if he could find out which theatre she rehearsed at, he would be able to hang around and catch her after practice. He narrowed the options down to two theatres in the area around the academy as his best bets.

Then, he checked through the phonebook. Ben had said that she wouldn’t be listed - being associated with what amounted to a family of murderers would leave you with some paranoia, not to mention her brief fame after the book was published. Still, Klaus flipped through, just to be contrary. To his surprise, he did find a number listed. Apparently, she had begun teaching violin lessons at some point.

“It’s a sign,” said Klaus with false gravitas.

“It’s pure luck, and you know it,” Ben replied.

That was how Klaus found himself and his maybe-hallucination crammed into a dingy phonebook, pushing his hard earned coins into the slot. His heart stuttered as the phone started ringing, and he realised that he probably should have planned what to say in advance.

The ringing cut off. “Hello?” said a soft voice.

“Hi,” said Klaus, already looking to Ben for ideas, but he just shrugged. “Is this Vanya Hargreeves?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“I got your number from your ad for violin lessons,” skirted Klaus.

“Oh! Sorry, did you want to book a lesson?” she asked.

“No, I, uh- I need to talk to you about something,” said Klaus, wincing at his own awkwardness.

There was a short pause. “About what?”

“About Ben,” said Klaus. Ben gave him a look of disbelief at his bluntness.

“What?” Vanya replied, voice guarded.

“Well. Well, your brother, uh…” Klaus trailed off, because really, there was no easy way to explain this.

“Who are you?” repeated Vanya.

“I can see your brother,” blurted Klaus. Ben groaned.

A sharp intake of breath. Then, “That isn’t funny,” and the shrill sound of the dial tone.

“Nice going,” sniped Ben.

Klaus hissed at him, squeezing past to exit the phone booth. “It’s not like you gave me any suggestions.”

Ben sighed. “What now?”

“Plan B,” said Klaus decisively.

Only three days later, and Klaus was leaning back against the cool brick of the Icarus Theatre. He had spent the day before staking out the Beacon Theatre, with no success. The air was cold, autumn tailing off into winter, and Klaus wrapped his black, fur-lined coat tightly around himself. Still, he shivered as a cold wind whipped past. It really wasn’t the weather for a stake-out, but Klaus was desperate enough to persevere. Besides, he had plenty of experience with rough conditions and living on the streets. He would have to find a shelter before dark, he decided.

“Klaus!” hissed Ben, reaching out as if to shake him.

“Huh?” said Klaus, pushing himself off of the wall.

Ben pointed to the doorway, where a petite woman was exiting the building. “It’s Vanya.”

“Crap,” muttered Klaus, jogging a little to catch up with her. “Hey! Uh- excuse me!”

Vanya startled and span around, violin case swinging through the air almost close enough to hit him. “Me?”

“Hi,” panted Klaus.

Vanya gave him a guarded look and said, “Do we know each other?”

“Not- not exactly,” said Klaus, voice pulling up into an almost question. “You’re Vanya, right?”

“Yes,” she said, forehead creased.

Klaus swallowed, shifting his weight. Despite having time to consider what to say, he had found that there was no good way of saying I may or may not be seeing your dead brother right now.

“I need to talk to you about The Umbrella Academy,” he said.

Vanya took a step back, shoulders tight. “I don’t really talk about that.”

“It’s important,” he implored.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Klaus scratched the back of his neck, out of his depth. “It’s complicated. I called you a few days ago-”

“Oh,” muttered Vanya, taking another step back. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Klaus put his hands up in a placating fashion. “Just hear me out.”

“Whatever game this is,” she said with a trembling voice, “I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“It’s not a game, I swear-”

“Hey, Vanya, right?” a third voice called. A tiny Asian woman was standing by the theatre, lips pinched. “Is this guy bothering you?”

A relieved expression flashed across Vanya’s face, and Klaus felt guilt settle in his stomach.

“Helen! No, it’s… I’m okay,” said Vanya, taking a few steps closer to Helen.

Klaus grimaced. “Sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll just go, okay? Sorry.”

“Okay,” said Vanya warily.

With a sigh, Klaus turned a walked away from his best lead.

After what Klaus later dubbed The Vanya Fiasco, his search for answers stalled. Allison’s fame and powers made her impossible to approach. He was unwilling to reach out to Vanya again, not after scaring her.

Luther seemed to have vanished off of the face of the Earth. He hadn’t been Ben’s first choice - apparently Number One was very much loyal to old Reggie - but eventually Klaus attempted to find him. Ben had insisted that he wouldn’t have left home. Klaus spent a few weeks covertly watching the area around mansion, careful not to get too close. He stood on street corners where Luther would be like pass by, but never spotted the man. Ben speculated that he could be away on some kind of long mission, but Klaus could tell that the ghost (or hallucination) was worried. Klaus reassured him that Ben’s death had been publicised, so Luther was alive somewhere.

Diego was similarly hard to track down. Unlike Luther, though, he did leave a faint trail. Klaus had been in the city for over a month when he first heard mention of a masked vigilante. After some further research, he found several reports of a masked man saving people from robbers and murderers, leaving a litany of stab wounds in his wake. Ben seemed positive that it was the work of his brother. “Diego always had a hero complex,” said Ben, “and an unhealthy obsession with knives.”

It was difficult to find out anything more than that, though. He wasted hours in the local library, but all he found was reports of the mysterious masked hero, no information on where to find him. Under Ben’s guidance, Klaus painstakingly marked each aborted crime on a map of the city, but if this was Diego, he was working pretty broadly across the city. Still, there was an area of denser occurrences, and Klaus began hanging around those streets in the meantime, hoping to catch sight of the man.

Other than haunting the rougher parts of town, Klaus had begun working. He had picked up a collection of odd jobs around the city. He walked dogs on Tuesdays and Thursdays, worked as an interpreter from time to time for businessmen who couldn’t speak German, and sometimes filled in as a bartender when someone called in sick. He was making enough to be eating enough and still have a little left over to save. He thought that maybe, even if the whole Umbrella Academy thing turned out to be a delusion, that he might stay in the city, find himself an actual apartment as opposed to the dingy squat that he had been inhabiting recently.

So, as time passed with no new leads, Klaus wasn’t too anxious about it. Sure, he still wanted to know the truth about his powers, if they existed or not, but at the same time… he was doing okay. He had achieved more stability here in America than he ever had in his home country, and even if mutilated corpses still dogged his steps, at least he had Ben to keep him grounded.

When Klaus did stumble onto a new opportunity to find Diego, it was entirely by accident. He had been walking two Shih Tzus for a grandmotherly lady that had taken a shine to him, when Ben froze up all of a sudden. “Klaus, look!”

Klaus reeled the dogs back in - they weren’t pleased that their walk was interrupted - before taking a look at what Ben was staring at. A poster for a local boxing match.

Not just any boxing match.

Diego Hargreeves’ boxing match.

“Holy shit,” breathed Klaus.

“It’s tomorrow night,” said Ben.

Klaus grinned victoriously. “Tomorrow night.”

Hence how Klaus found himself in a boxing gym the next evening, the smell of sweat heavy in the air. He stood out starkly in the crowd - his skirt and heeled boots was garnering some rude looks - but he tried to ignore it. Ben was keeping an eye out for him.

The crowd roared when Diego came out, hands gloved and steps bouncing. He was broad shouldered and strong looking, dark eyes watching with deadly focus. It wasn’t quite how Klaus had imagined him. According to Ben, he was a big softie at heart. Looking at the man now, it was hard to imagine. Klaus could taste the adrenaline in the air when Diego eyed up his opponent, body coiled and ready.

When the bell rang, Klaus couldn’t help but flinch at the way the pair sprung into action, all quick jabs and fast feet, like a violent waltz. Klaus had never been a fan of violence, avoiding conflict whenever possible when he was on the streets. Still, he couldn’t help but admire the lithe way that Diego moved, the subtle power in his body. It was quickly becoming apparent that his opponent was no match for the man.

Diego only took a few hits before he downed the other man. A mix of cheers and groans rose up around Klaus. Diego grinned as he wiped his bloodied nose on the back of his forearm.

When Diego stepped down from the ring, Klaus darted through the crowd after him. He caught him just before he disappeared through a doorway at the back of the gym. “Diego!” he said.

Diego whipped around, a frown already on his face. “Who’s asking?”

“Uh- that’s kind of hard to explain. Could we-”

“This fairy with you?” asked a gruff voice from behind him. Klaus tensed, hands curling into fists. Ben made a noise of outrage that went unheard.

“Don’t be a dick, Al,” drawled Diego. Klaus relaxed a fraction.

“Hey, I ain’t got a problem,” defended the guy, “but some of these guys definitely will.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder at the cloud of testosterone behind him.

Diego grunted, and shoved Klaus out the back door. “Sorry bout that,” he muttered, embarrassed.

Klaus shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”

Diego’s eyes darted down over Klaus outfit. “Right. So, what’s this about?”

“Uh, it’s kind of a long story,” said Klaus.

Diego began unwrapping his hands and said, “I’ve got time.”

“It’s about your brother,” said Klaus.

Diego cocked his head. “Luther?”

Klaus chewed his lip. “No. Ben.”

Diego went taut, face going blank. “W-What?” he stammered.

“His ghost it standing right next to you,” blurted Klaus.

“Ben’s ghost,” he repeated flatly.

Klaus nodded. Ben gave him an encouraging smile. “He says hi.”

Maybe Klaus should have been expecting the punch. As it was, Klaus was totally unprepared, and flailed backwards onto his ass with a yelp.

“What the fuck!” cried Klaus, clutching his bloody lip.

Diego took a step closer and loomed over him. “Don’t fucking talk about Ben,” he spat, before storming back into the gym.

Klaus let himself drop back onto the freezing pavement. “Well that went well,” he said, watching his breath mist in the cool air. He could taste copper heavy on his tongue.

Ben dropped down next to him, looking contrite. “I’m sorry. I should never have told you to come here.”

Klaus glanced over with a grin. “What are you talking about? This is the most excitement I’ve had in ages!”

Ben burst out laughing, burying his face in his palms. “God, you’re a mess,” he groaned.

“Yeah, but I’m your mess,” countered Klaus, fluttering his eyelashes until Ben laughed again.

So maybe the night was a failure. Maybe Klaus had ended up with a split lip and no more information. But lying there besides Ben in the crisp winter air, Klaus didn’t feel too bad about it.

Chapter Text

“This is a terrible idea,” said Ben.

“Yep,” said Klaus.

“And you’re going to do it anyway?” asked Ben.

“Yep.”

The aforementioned terrible idea had been spawned yesterday, when, during a shift at the bar, the TV had flashed with the headline Reginald Hargreeves Confirmed Dead .

Ben and Klaus had shared wide eyed looks. It had been a couple of months since the pair had attempted to contact any of Ben’s siblings, and hope had been dwindling fast. And now, just when Klaus was entertaining the thought of giving up, an opportunity had presented itself. All of the living Hargreeves in one place? It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Unfortunately, Ben disagreed. “You can’t just turn up to a funeral,” he said, blocking the door to the mansion as if he could stop Klaus from passing.

“You said yourself that your dad was a dick,” defended Klaus.

“Still, it’s bad timing!”

“Aw, c’mon, when will we get a chance like this again?” said Klaus. “Besides, I’m wearing all black!”

Ben gave his black skirt and lace top a wry look. “Well, in that case.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Klaus pushed a hand through Ben (gross) and knocked on the door, and prayed that Diego wasn’t the one to answer.

The person who answered to door was Diego’s exact opposite. She was blonde, dainty and friendly looking, wearing a dress that would have been more fashionable in the 50s. “How can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Mom,” whispered Ben. Klaus tried not to react, despite wondering how the hell this could be his mother when they looked the same age.

“I was looking for the Hargreeves?” said Klaus, shooting her his most winsome smile.

“Of course! Come in,” she said, with a somewhat absent smile. It was the sort of expression that Klaus saw too often when he was sleeping rough. She didn’t look the type to indulge in drugs, but you could never tell.

It was only then that Klaus remembered what Vanya had wrote about their mother. An android.

How was this his life?

She led Klaus through a huge parlor - Klaus craned his neck to take it all in - and through into a drawing room, where the four surviving Hargreeves siblings were gathered. The woman (the android?) cleared her throat and said, “You have a visitor!” before taking her leave.

The family turned, expressions confused. Then-

“ You!” said three voices at once, all with various amounts of suspicion.

The big dude - Luther, presumably - just looked more confused. “Who?” he asked.

“Wait,” said Diego, turning to his sisters, “you know this guy?”

“Yeah! He was harassing me in California. I had to rumour him to leave me alone,” explained Allison.

Klaus cringed. “I think harassed is a strong word,” he objected.

“And he called me at home, and waited for me after my rehearsal,” added Vanya, quieter.

“Sorry, didn’t really think that through,” said Klaus with a sheepish smile. Ben sighed.

“Hold on, are you stalking us?” snarled Diego, taking an aggressive step forward, only to be halted by Luther pressing a hand to his chest.

“No!” denied Klaus. “I mean- well, okay kind of?”

“Oh, Jesus,” muttered Ben.

“But only because I need to talk to you guys, and it’s really important!”

“About what?” asked Luther, effortlessly intimidating with his huge frame.

Klaus swallowed, considered his options. None of his previous attempts at this conversation had gone well.

“He said something about Ben,” murmured Vanya.

Diego pointed in Klaus direction. With a knife. “He started chatting shit about seeing Ben’s ghost.”

Klaus tried not flinch at the expression on Diego’s face. “I know how it sounds-”

“It sounds like bullshit,” snapped Diego.

“-but I think I might have powers,” finished Klaus.

The room went quiet for a moment. “Powers like… our powers?” asked Luther, contemplative.

Klaus nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I need to know for sure.”

“Okay,” said Allison, “why don’t you sit down and explain.”

Diego grumbled, “Sure, just invite the random stalker in.” Allison shot him a dark look, and he put his hands up in surrender. Unfortunately, he was still holding a knife, so it didn’t look all that apologetic.

Klaus took a seat gratefully, the tension in the room going down a notch. “Well, you see,” said Klaus. “I was diagnosed as schizophrenic as a kid.”

“Oh, good,” muttered Diego. Allison thumped him in the gut.

“Because I saw people that weren’t there,” Klaus continued. “So when I started seeing Ben, I thought he was just a- a hallucination, y’know?”

Klaus took an unsteady breath. Vanya gave him an encouraging almost-smile. “I thought that I had read about him, and my brain had just… yeah. But then, I saw my mother for the first time since I was four, and she started saying all this shit about how I was unnatural and how some guy had tried to buy me and I wasn’t schizophrenic. I mean, most of it was just insane rambling,” he said with an inappropriate giggle, “but she definitely believed it.

“After that, Ben started insisting that I was one of you guys. So I’ve been trying to track you guy down, to find out if its true.”

“Okay, if you can really see Ben, prove it,” said Luther. “Tell us something that only Ben would know.”

“That’s gonna be tricky,” said Ben, nodding his head over to Vanya.

Klaus winced. “That might not work,” he said, giving Vanya an apologetic look.

“Why not?” asked Allison.

Diego snorted. “Maybe because Vanya published all of our secrets.”

“Oh,” said Vanya, folding in in herself.

“Ben said that your dad might have kept records,” said Klaus, “of all the kids he couldn’t buy?”

Luther frowned. “Maybe-” he started.

Luther’s voice was suddenly drowned out by a strange rumbling sound. The siblings startled, looking around in confusion. Then, the expensive looking ornaments that littered to room began to tremble, clattering, before flying across the room and sticking to the wall, as if magnetised.

“What the hell?” said Diego, hands reaching for his knives. “Are you doing this?” he asked Klaus, voice low and threatening.

“No!” said Klaus. “I have no idea what the fuck is happening, man.”

The room was suddenly illuminated with a flash of blue light.

“The courtyard!” said Luther, already running. His siblings ran after him. Vanya fell a little behind. Klaus followed at a hesitant jog, swapping wary looks with Ben.

Klaus froze in the doorway. Outside, a cloud of swirling blue light hovered in the air, like something from a sci-fi movie. “Is this for real?” he muttered under his breath.

“Come on,” urged Ben, stepping out after his siblings.

“Easy for you to say! You’re already dead!” hissed Klaus, but followed him out.

“What is it?” said Vanya as Klaus reached her side.

Luther yelled, “Looks like some kind of temporal anomaly. Either that or a miniature black hole.”

“Pretty big difference there!” shouted Diego.

Then, a figure appeared at the centre of the blue storm.

“Everyone get behind me!” Luther instructed.

“Yeah, get behind us!”

Klaus allowed himself to be sheltered behind the two men with Vanya and Allison. He squinted as the figure seemed to warp, the old man turning young again, shrinking down to a boy, before falling to the ground.

The blue disappeared.

“Uh… can anyone else see some random kid, or..?”

There was a pause, and then Allison spoke up, tone incredulous. “Five?”

Chapter Text

Klaus really couldn’t believe this. Just when he thought his life couldn’t get any more ridiculous, his maybe-hallucination’s missing brother falls out of a portal, still a child. And even more surprising, the others had confirmed that this was not, in fact, a hallucination, but a real life event. Because that’s the kind of life Klaus lives now.

He had followed the kid down to the kitchen with the others. For a long lost brother, the reunion wasn’t very… familial. Five had barely acknowledged them, seemingly intent on finding some food first. Klaus hovered at the back, not wanting to intrude, and denied the urge to sit on the table. His mother may not have taught him manners, but he still knew that it would probably be impolite.

When Five finally deigned to interact with his siblings, he began a kind of distracted interrogation, shooting questions between spatial jumps. Klaus gave Ben a look as if to say are you shitting me. Ben, however, was too focused on Five. Klaus remembered Vanya mentioning in her book that the pair had been close, before Five disappeared.

Then, Five announces that he had been to the future, and, “...It’s shit, by the way.”

Klaus mouthed to Ben, called it.

The kid was saying a lot of science type nonsense that Klaus gave up following pretty quickly. Cycling through foster homes didn’t exactly lead to a solid education, but Klaus was pretty sure that this stuff was some high level science. What Klaus did manage to pick up, was that Five was actually 58. Would it be rude to ask his skin care regime?

Five turned to Klaus, gaze assessing. Klaus tried not to look suspicious, and in doing so, probably made himself look shady. “Nice dress,” said Five, voice flat.

Klaus hesitated, not sure if he was being sincere or not. “Danke.”

“Who are you, exactly?” he asked, taking a bite from his sandwich.

“Klaus. I can maybe see Ben’s ghost. Or I’m a really creative schizophrenic. It’s yet to be determined.”

Five blinked. Klaus thought that it was his version of surprised.

“Tell him I said hi,” Ben instructed.

“Ben says hi,” relayed Klaus,

A pause. Then, “Hi Ben.” And with that, a flash of blue light, and Five was no longer in the room.

“Well. That was interesting.”

Klaus really wants to ask about Reginald’s records, but he figures that it’s a bad time to be asking favours, so he resolves to ask later. Instead, he leaves the siblings to process, and wanders back out to the courtyard, slouching down on a bench. Ben followed, but it seemed mostly out of habit. He seemed almost dazed, completely different to his usual watchful self.

“You okay?” asked Klaus, picking at what remained of his nail varnish.

Ben let out a slow breath, despite not needing oxygen. “Yeah. Just- wish I could give him a hug,” he admitted, looking away.

“He didn’t seem like the hugging type,” noted Klaus.

“Yeah,” said Ben, “He always pretended like it was all below him, but… I don’t know. I think he needs it sometimes.”

Klaus hummed, tilting his face up to inspect the heavy clouds. It looked like rain.

“I miss him,” whispered Ben.

Klaus looked over, curious. “I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone.”

Ben smiled sadly. “It seems that’s all I do, even when I was still alive. I missed my siblings even I was in the same room as them.”

“None of you seem very…” Klaus trailed off.

“Yeah. Reginald never exactly encouraged sibling bonding,” said Ben.

“If Reggie had bought me,” Klaus declared, “we would have been the best bros.”

“Yeah?” asked Ben, almost shyly.

“For sure,” said Klaus.

The pair stayed out there until the rest of the family came out. Klaus belatedly realised that it was for the funeral, and wondered whether it would be rude to leave. Then he remembered that Ben would want to be here for it, and resigned himself to stay, even if he stood a little distant from the others.

When Pogo joined, Klaus choked on spit. Reading about a talking chimp was one thing, but seeing it for yourself was another. He hoped that no one noticed his reaction.

The group stood in a loose circle. Luther lifted the lid from the urn, and tipped it out, the ashes landing in an undignified pile. Ben snorted, and Klaus had to push down a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Probably would have been better with some wind," Luther muttered.

Pogo stepped forward. "Would anyone like to speak?" The siblings shuffled, like children hoping the teacher wouldn't call on them.

"Very well," said the chimp, before embarking on an awkward speech. From what Klaus had gathered from Ben, it was a rather flattering description of Reginald. "... he leaves behind a complicated legacy-"

"He was a monster," interrupted Diego.

Well, shit.

From there, things devolved pretty quickly. Luther was easily goaded into a fight, the huge man lumbering after Diego, only to be easily evaded. Klaus pushed Five behind him - an instinct born from shielding the younger kids in various children's and foster homes - only for his hand to be slapped away impatiently.

And then Ben's statue fell.

Klaus winced. "Sorry, Ben."

"It didn't look like me anyway," said Ben, but Klaus could hear something sad in his voice.

The fight ended when Diego pulled a knife. In the end, only Klaus and Ben were left, a sour feeling in the air.

Klaus floated over to the ashes, crouching down contemplatively. "Was he?"

"Was he what?" asked Ben.

"A monster."

Ben was silent for a moment. "He never called me Ben. Not even at my funeral."

Klaus felt his stomach clench at the naked hurt in Ben's voice. Then, he spat in the ashes.

Ben was startled into a laugh. "Jesus, Klaus."

Klaus stood with a vindictive smile. "Well, since you aren't here to do it," he said.

Klaus didn't get an opportunity to ask after Reginald's notes that night. Everyone had disappeared into their own rooms, or out of the mansion entirely. Klaus couldn't blame them - the whole house was heavy with tension. Grace, the sweetheart she was, made him dinner and gave him a spare room to sleep in. The day might not have gone to plan, but he had a warm bed and a room to himself, which was more than he could usually say. He took his antipsychotic as always, and slept soundly.

The next morning, he woke feeling more rested than he had in a long time, especially after taking a shower and eating a lovely breakfast courtesy of Grace. If he was a Hargreeves, he thought, he would never move out. Or at least he would take Grace with him.

Luther also came down for breakfast, giving Klaus a brief greeting. Grace sat down a huge plate of food in front of him. Klaus noted that he didn’t thank her.

“So, Luther,” said Klaus, cradling a cup of tea. “Would I be able to have a look at Reginald’s records today?”

Luther hesitated. “I guess,” he hedged.

“My hero,” said Klaus, already on his feet. “Are they in his office?”

“Yeah. I can show you where that is-”

“No need! Ben knows. Or, I know. You know what I mean,” said Klaus, with a flap of his goodbye hand. He placed his empty dishes in the sink and blew Grace a kiss as he passed, earning a patient smile.

Reginald’s office was, admittedly, intimidating. The room was gloomy and oppressive, lined with important looking books and expensive ornaments.

“Kind of narcissistic, no? To hang up a portrait of yourself,” said Klaus.

Ben smirked. “Our father had a lot of self belief.”

Klaus laughed as he made his way over to the book shelf, pulling out a few journals. “This is going to take forever,” he groaned.

“You were willing to move country to find out the truth, but a bit of reading, that’s too much?” sniped Ben.

“Darling, this is not a bit of reading. This is a lot of reading,” said Klaus. “And besides, your father’s handwriting was atrocious!”

Ben rolled his eyes, following Klaus as he sat down at the desk with a stack of books. With a theatrical flick, Klaus opened the first book, Ben stood at his shoulder to read with him.

It was going to be a long day.

He had been slogging through Reginald’s scribbles for several hours when he was interrupted by Luther hovering in the doorway.

“Hey there,” said Klaus, grateful for an excuse to stop reading.

“Hi. Is, uh- can you see Ben?” Luther asked.

Klaus waved a hand over his shoulder. “He’s been reading with me.”

“Right,” said Luther, crossing his arms. “You need to come downstairs. We’re having a family meeting.”

Klaus looked to Ben, who just shrugged. “Sure,” agreed Klaus, following the man down.

The Hargreeves siblings were gathered around a dusty looking television, watching what looked like CCTV footage.

“- you really think Mom would hurt Dad?” Vanya was saying.

Klaus peered closer at the footage, which seemed to show Grace leaving a writhing Reginald to die. He and Ben exchanged disturbed looks.

“You haven't been home in a long time, Vanya. Maybe you don't know Grace anymore,” said Luther.

Diego was quick to defend Grace, pointing out that she had only been taking his monocle, which apparently Diego had stolen. The room erupted into arguments and accusations, and Klaus took an automatic step back. He didn’t have much experience with bickering siblings.

Vanya, who had been quiet up to this point, was the one to calm everyone down, explaining that Grace was programmed to intervene if someone's life was in jeopardy.

“Well,” said Luther, “if her hardware is degrading, then we need to turn her off.”

Klaus felt his jaw drop at the coldness of it. Turn her off? That seemed an awfully casual way of talking about murdering their mother. From Ben’s stories and Klaus own brief experiences of Grace, she seemed kind and loving, regardless of her synthetic heart.

To Klaus relief, Diego immediately countered, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. She's not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet. She feels things, I've seen it!”

And then they started taking sides, like this was a jury, and not a bunch of siblings with little evidence and a lot of personal bias.

Allison sided with Luther. Two for, one against.

Vanya agreed with Diego. Two all.

“What about you, ghost boy?” said Diego, whirling to face Klaus, pointing with a knife. “What’s Ben saying?”

Klaus turned to Ben, where he was sat hunched on the table. “We should turn her off,” the maybe-ghost said, voice flat. Klaus felt something cold settle in his stomach.

“Ben agrees with Diego,” lied Klaus, expression innocent.

“That’s three to two,” said Diego triumphantly.

“But we don’t even know if Ben’s real,” said Allison, folding her arms. “Besides, we need to wait for Five. We owe each other that.”

“No, we should wait,” said Vanya.

And with that, they group dispersed, as if that was settled. Klaus shook his head, and retreated back to Reginald’s study.

Ben waited until they were alone before confronting Klaus. “You lied.”

“Yep,” said Klaus, flopping down into the desk chair and flipping open the nearest file.

“You know,” said Ben, “it’s bad enough that none of my siblings can hear me, without you putting words in my mouth.”

“Mhmm,” mumbled Klaus, turning the page.

Ben continued, “The least you could do is be honest about what I said.”

Klaus let the file drop to the desk with a thud. “I’ll start passing on your messages when they aren’t utter shit!”

“What?” said Ben, blinking in surprise.

“You were talking about killing your mother!” cried Klaus, hands fisted on the edge of the desk.

Ben’s voice was low when he replied, “She’s dangerous! Besides, she’s not human. She’s not really our mom, remember.”

“Oh, really?” challenged Klaus. “Because this is what I know: she cooked your meals for you; she tucked you in at night; she was there for you when you cried. And you know what? That’s more than my real mom ever did for me, Ben.”

Ben looked away - Klaus wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or shame - before fading from view.

Klaus huffed, and sat down, unsure of when he had stood in the first place. He swallowed down his anger, and tucked headphones over his ears. He hoped some music might soothe his bad mood.

Unfortunately, that meant that when the shooting started, Klaus couldn’t hear it.

Chapter Text

Klaus woke up.

He was-

He was-

Where was he?

“Ben?” he said. Or, he tried, but the words was slurred and muffled, like when one of the kids at the group home had punched him in the mouth so hard that he lost a molar. Except, his teeth were still there, probably, and something was over his mouth-

Where was he?

It was dark. His limbs were folded tight, but the walls were edging up to him on every side, so he was somewhere small, like a coffin, and-

It was dark.

His breath was coming faster, faster and faster, but it whistled through his nose because his mouth was taped shut, why was his mouth taped shut?

A keening noise, whining and animal and, oh god, was that him? The noise pitched louder, but still muffled, not loud enough for anyone to hear him here where he-

-please, mummy, I’ll be good! I’ll be good, I promise, mum, please-

He wanted out, he wanted out, he couldn’t breathe-

The only light was from the sliver under the door, and he was crouched down, face pressed to it like it was his only source of air. He was scared, and it was dark, and why wouldn’t mummy let him out? He could hear her voice screaming, but she was using Bad Words, and it was all confusing, and he didn’t know what he had done wrong! Why wouldn’t she let him out? He was so scared-

Metal creaked and the the space was flooded with light. Two figures were stood over him, the lid of the space was held open and oh. A car boot. That’s where he was.

He thought back. Reginald’s office. Headphones blaring. Movement at the edge of his vision, another hallucination slipping past his meds, he thought, and then pain, blinding pain, and then nothing at all.

Hands on him.

“No!” he cried, but the sound was smothered, and his heart skipped fast in his chest. He was being lifted up, carried, by the larger of the two. He writhed, hard as he could, but the man’s grip was vice-like, and he quickly sagged, breathless.

He snagged glimpses of a parking lot, and a door, and a motel room. The world swam in his vision, and he wondered distantly if he was concussed. Then he was being sat in a chair. He heard more than felt himself being taped down, the rip of the tape piercing in the tense silence. Klaus blinked up at the man, and then blinked again when the man’s mask came into focus. Yeah. A creepy kids mask. Because being kidnapped wasn’t brick-shittingly terrifying enough.

The other stepped forward. A woman, maybe? They wore a pink mask, and held a wicked looking knife. “Where’s Five?” she asked, voice flat and hard.

“What?” said Klaus stupidly.

“Where. Is. Five?” she repeated, stalking forward with each word.

Klaus swallowed. “I- I don’t know.”

Pink sighed, as if disappointed. “Wrong answer,” she said, pushing her knife down so that it rested against his chest. Klaus froze, but the pain never came. Instead, with expert flicks of her knife, she began cutting open his blouse, until it could be pushed aside, pooling at his elbows. The anticipation was sucking the air from the room, watching the sharp blade dance mere inches from his skin. The cool air hit his bare chest, and he sucked in a breath. “One more chance, and then this gets messy. Where is Five?”

Klaus bit down on his tongue. He didn’t have an answer for them, and what would happen when they figured that out?

There was no further warning before the blade licked down his skin, cutting a burning red line. Klaus whimpered, pulling back as far as he could, the cool wood of the chair pressing into his back. He felt his blood spill, hot, running down, down, down. The knife withdrew, and then sliced a parallel line, just under the last. With each breath, each thump of his heart, his skin twitched, and the blade cut deeper.

“Have you reconsidered yet?” asked the man in the blue mask. His voice would have been genial, if not for the torture.

Klaus squeezed his eyes shut tight, but they flew open at the sound of the lighter. The flesh of his arm sizzled and bubbled, and scream tore free from behind Klaus teeth. He could smell barbecue.

“Please, please, please,” begged Klaus, barely aware of his own babbling, “please, stop.”

“Sure. Just tell us where Five is,” said Blue.

Another burn.

Klaus screamed.

“You can stop this whenever you want,” said the woman, lifting the lighter so that the flame danced close to Klaus face. He reeled back, neck taught and painful, and he thought that she smirked a little at his obvious fear.

It was a couple of hours later that Klaus caught a break. By then, he was so suffocated by the pain and the fear that he could barely acknowledge that they had backed off a little. He sagged in his chair, half delirious and shaking violently. His captors were talking, and he knew he should be listening, but the sounds weren’t forming into words properly.

Then the big guy was approaching, replacing the tape on his mouth, even as Klaus turned his head away. Klaus whimpered, and then tried not to gag when he was abruptly tilted back, his chair being dragged backwards towards-

Towards the closet.

Klaus started begging, despite the futility of it, incomprehensible behind the layer of tape.

No, no, no, no-

But the man didn’t hesitate to close the closet doors, leaving Klaus in the dark.

Klaus struggled to keep his breathing under control, even as he heard his captors leave and couldn’t help but wonder when they were coming back, if they were coming back. He closed his eyes tight, so that he wouldn’t have to see the darkness, and hummed tunelessly to fill the silence. He hurt everywhere, dull aches and sharp pains, making it hard to think in a straight line, mind racing, running nowhere.

“ Klaus?”

Klaus startled violently, attempting to twist to see who was behind him.

“Jesus, Klaus, what happened?”

“Ben?” mumbled Klaus, blinking away tears. The relief at not being alone was so sharp that it hurt.

Ben muttered, “I was only gone a few hours, how the hell did you get stuck in a closet?”

“In my defence,” said Klaus, words unintelligible, “I was left unsupervised.”

“Who took you? Are they coming back?” asked Ben. Klaus shrugged in reply, goosebumps raising at the prospect of their return, or the prospect of being left to die there.

“Christ. Okay,” said Ben, “Just breathe. We’ll figure something out.”

But Ben didn’t know any more that Klaus did, couldn’t do anything to help. All there was to do was wait it out.

Ben filled the silence the best he could, which was probably the only thing that kept Klaus from going more insane than he already was. Klaus tried to keep quiet so that he could hear what Ben was saying, but sometimes he would cry out involuntarily and lose track of Ben’s words, and sometimes lose track of where he was too. Time was meaningless in there, with no indication of its passing except for the number of gasping breaths that Klaus took since he last saw light.

When Klaus heard the door knob turn, he felt his blood freeze.

“It’s okay, Klaus. Stay calm,” reassured Ben.

“-like a Hargreeves family handbook. Let me tell you, they're a real freakin' mess. All powered. But this is the important bit: this guy ain’t one of them,” the woman was saying.

“So what?” said the guy.

“So,” the woman said, impatient, “this guy isn’t even in the book. He probably doesn’t know shit!”

Silence. Then, “Shit.”

The closet doors were flung open, and the dull light blinded Klaus. He squinted, unwilling to close his eyes against the light which he had been craving so desperately; the man, now maskless, was blotting out the light anyway. With rough hands, he was dragged back out into the motel room. Klaus’ breath hitched, sobs building in his chest, but he pushed it down viciously. It was bad enough breaking down before, but he especially didn’t want Ben to see him like that.

He mumbled through the tape.

“What’s he saying?” asked the man. The woman was quick to step forward and rip off the tape.

Klaus took a deep breath in through his mouth. “I think you guys look scarier without the masks.”

The woman backhanded him for that, but it earned him a smirk from Ben, so he figured that it was worth it.

“Hey,” said the woman, brandishing a familiar looking book. “Are you one of the Hargreeves?”

Klaus eyed her, which prompted another smack around the head. The room span. “No,” he slurred.

“So how do you know them? Why were you there?” asked the man.

Klaus bit down on his tongue. He wasn’t sure that this line of interrogation was going anywhere good.

Pink flicked her lighter, and the sound made Klaus’ stomach drop.

“I came to the mansion to find out if I have powers,” he blurted, voice shaking. “I only met them a few days ago.”

The man groaned. “Oh, Jesus, all that for nothing!”

“I say we kill him and find an actual Hargreeves to interrogate,” said Pink, tone conversational.

“Woah, wait, wait! Let’s not do that!” babbled Klaus.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re holding out on us, we’ got no reason to keep you alive.”

“Okay, okay,” he placated. “Well, I know- I know that-” He scrambled for usable information, but came up short.

Pink sighed, disappointed. Then she pulled out a pistol.

“Please, please, don’t do this-” begged Klaus, tears welling up and spilling over. He swallowed. “Please-”

“Klaus,” said Ben, and he sounded afraid.

“I won’t tell anyone, just let me go, please-”

She pulled the trigger.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Klaus couldn’t claim to be a highly educated man, but he was fairly sure that most people, upon being shot in the face, did not proceed to wake up. Yet, he blinked against the colourless sunlight, skull feeling inexplicably intact.

“Well, this is peculiar.”

Klaus flew to his feet. “What- Who are you?”

The girl watched him with cool dark eyes, smoothly dismounting her bicycle. “That’s besides the point. You’re early.”

“Early?” repeated Klaus. “I don’t even know how I got here!”

The girl tilted her head. “You took a bullet to the face. Don’t you remember?”

“That really doesn’t explain how I-” he choked, realisation hitting him. “Wait. Is this, like, the afterlife?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said, in a tone which seemed to imply the opposite. “Look, you aren’t meant to be here. You aren’t even supposed to be visiting yet. It’s really quite inconvenient.”

“You do realise that I have no idea what you’re talking about, right?” asked Klaus, running his palms over his face, and then freezing when he noticed that his hands were turning transparent. “What- what’s happening?”

The girl shook her head, perturbed. “That isn’t my doing. Something's wrong.”

“But- but you’re-”

And then he was gone.

Klaus was-

Klaus was-

His lungs were burning. His lungs-

Oh. He wasn’t breathing.

He gasped like a drowning man, limbs spasming.

“What the shit.”

klaus

“Klaus?”

“He was dead! I shot him-”

klausklausklauswe’reherelistenlistenklaus

Klaus dragged himself upright, woozy. “Fuck,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Klaus, how are you-?” 

“Well, shoot him again!”

“Klaus, move!”

He flinched back, hands out in front of him, head ducked-

Bang.

Klaus was… he was okay. He waited for the pain, but it never came.

He looked up, green eyes wide. Suspended in the air between him and his captors, crumpled, was the bullet. Klaus let his hands drop, and with it, so did the metal. His torturers stood, guns in hand and mouths agape, and around them-

Ghosts.

Figures were crammed into every corner, expressions vindictive, eyes empty. They were watching. Waiting.

They didn’t speak, not with their mouths, but Klaus could hear them. They were in his head. In his brain. A chorus of voices.

klaus

They called his name. They awaited his command.

“Klaus, what’s happening? Where have they all come from?” questioned Ben.

klausletusoutletusoutletussaveyouwe’rerighthereklaus

Klaus let them loose. An exhalation of power.

“ Holy shit-”

“ Where did they come from?”

Klaus closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, feeling the power running through him.

Gunshots. The pair were shooting wildly, fearfully, but their bullets sailed through the ghosts harmlessly. Undeterred, the ghosts converged, hands clawed and grasping, greedy for the flesh of their killers, teeth bared in snarls, jaws snapping. They crawled over each other in their eagerness.

The woman fell fast, legs swiped out from under her. The man was yelling wordlessly, and then suddenly quieted when one of his assailants gouged into his carotid artery, blood spilling, raining. He was silent after that, but the figures continued to maul his body, even when his eyes went blank and unfocused. His partner cried out in rage, managed to kick one spirit off her, but she was overwhelmed, pinned. They wouldn't stop until they had their share of blood. They were ruthless in their violence. By the end, the body wasn't recognisable, her face nothing more than tatters of flesh.

Then they were satisfied, and their satisfaction ran through Klaus' blood. He felt high on it.

"Christ. Jesus Christ, Klaus," said Ben, voice hollow.

"They deserved it. They murdered us- me. They murdered me," corrected Klaus.

"How did you even..?"

"I don't know. Something changed," said Klaus, absently wiping blood from his face.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, featured etched into a deep frown, eyes wide.

"Yeah. I feel…"

powerful

"-I feel okay."

Ben shook his head, eyes flicking between the ghosts that still crowded the room, watching Klaus possessively now. "Let's go back home," said Ben.

"Okay," agreed Klaus, eager to escape the scene of the crime.

Ben watched Klaus as they rode the bus back to the mansion. Klaus thought that maybe they he should be upset by this, but it seemed rather petty to be worrying about. Ben was only one of many, and the rest weren’t worried about Klaus. They liked Klaus. They liked how close they all were now, sharing his space. He giggled madly to himself.

The universe was condensed into his mind. He felt infinite.

When they reached the house, the voices grew louder still. Some of the ghosts were visible to Klaus, but others were too weak to remember what they had looked like in life. All of them, however, gravitated towards Klaus, their spirits melting into him, their thoughts, their feelings, their desires, a white noise of death. He let them in.

The Hargreeves Mansion was profoundly haunted.

He whistled cheerily as he entered the house. It was silent; none of the Hargreeves were home. He trailed through the old house, feeling both like an intruder and completely at home. Some of the ghosts had called this house their own, lived here, died here. He shared their familiarity, let them guide him. He found himself in the kitchen.

food

The spirits were insistent. Their craving hit him like a tidal wave. The ghosts dreamt of the tastes they had experienced in life. He drowned in memories of sweet cake and salty ham and sharp lemon. Dough and grease and fizz and all of it, they wanted it all.

feedusklaus

He stumbled around, pulling out whatever made them hum contently. He raided the fridge for the cheese and the leftover beef and the cream and milk, scavenged cookies and dry crackers and bread from the cupboard. He dumped his findings on the table and started into it with shaking hands, not bothering with plates or utensils, shovelling food into his mouth with bloodstained hands. The others hummed in appreciation.

“Klaus, slow down! You’ll choke at this rate,” urged Ben, watching the skinny man gorge himself with an obsessive determination.

Klaus didn’t stop to reply, instead guzzling milk straight from the carton, swallowing and swallowing until it dripped dry.

“Seriously, Klaus, you’re freaking me out! Just- stop and listen, okay?”

On some level, Klaus acknowledged that he should listen. He didn’t want to upset Ben, after all. Any desire to stop was flattened by the other voices, screamed over until his own voice was inaudible. They wanted food, they wanted to taste. They wanted to feel him, feel the way he was feeling, wanted to experience life through his eyes, his mouth. Who was he to deny them? When there were so many of them, and just one of him? Wouldn’t that be selfish?

He was halfway through the loaf of bread when his stomach rebelled.

He span purely on reflex to bend over the sink, heaving as his body rejected the meal. Vomit and half chewed food splattered the bowl. The ghosts were quiet in their amazement, silenced by the overwhelming sensations, so much after years of nothing at all. Klaus spat and turned on the tap to rinse it away. A noise escaped his mouth, a strange mix of groan and laugh. The spirits were disgusted and joyful all at once, and he wasn’t sure how to let that emotion out.

“You’re okay,” said Ben, voice soft and encouraging, the same way he spoke when nights were cold and Klaus had nowhere to go. “How about you go take a shower, wash off, and then you can go to bed.”

“Yeah,” Klaus rasped, weaving as he made his way through the halls and to the bathroom.

He stripped, perfunctory, before switching on the shower. Usually, Klaus preferred a bath, a luxury that he rarely had in shelters or on the streets. The others, however, were in favour of the forceful spray of the shower, disinterested in the stillness of the bath. He stepped in, shuddering at the way the water stung his wounds. The water ran red.

His hands skimmed over his body, although right then they weren’t his hands, they were their hands. They felt along the planes of his chest, the jut of his hip bone, fascinated. Fingers prodded the burns and cuts, surprised at the answering pain. A body; what a novel concept. Klaus thought that maybe he should be embarrassed, feel exposed, but he couldn’t summon the emotion. He didn’t mind sharing his body, not when there were so many in need of one. It was their body now.

He stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself. Ben stood by the door, face turned away politely. “Klaus, what’s happening? The ghosts, they aren’t just around you anymore, they’re- I don’t know. Is it because you haven’t taken your meds?”

“Maybe,” said Klaus, disinterested. “Maybe it was dying. Maybe it was something else. Does it matter?”

“Yes! Of course it does,” argued Ben.

Klaus rolled his eyes, shuffling across to the guest room. “All that matters is that I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“All of it. My powers. The ghosts. I’ve unlocked it, don’t you see? And now we can share it all, our body, our power, all of it,” said Klaus, smiling, eyes manic and unfamiliar.

“Klaus, this- this isn’t you, is it?” asked Ben, taking a step backward.

“Of course it’s me! It’s us, it’s all of us. And you could be with us, too,” they said, hand reaching out to Ben invitingly.

“Stop it,” whispered Ben, taking another step away.

“Why not?” they asked, hurt, or amused, or a mix of the two.

“I want Klaus back,” said Ben, gritting his teeth.

They cocked their head. “He’s right here.”

“No,” denied Ben.

“Come on. We can be together,” they insisted, taking a step towards Ben.

Ben trembled, but his voice was strong. “No.”

They sighed. “Fine. Klaus doesn’t need you anymore. He has us.”

Then, Klaus’ hand lifted, and a blue glow began forming.

“Klaus,” said Ben, “if you can hear me-”

And then he choked, doubling over, the blue glow twisting around him.

“Klaus,” he said, fading. “Please.”

And then he was gone.

Klaus smiled, and flopped down on the bed. They hadn’t slept in so long, had forgotten the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the blankets.

sleep

Klaus closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

They awoke.

Luther stood at the open door, expression impatient. “Family meeting. Meet us downstairs. It’s important,” ordered Luther, not waiting for a reply.

They smiled indulgently. Just a boy, thinking he could boss them around. Funny.

They rolled out of bed and stretched, marvelling at the stiffness of their muscles. Some of the newer ghosts dissented, but the majority were old enough to have missed even the more painful experiences, and They basked in the ache of it.

They decided that they would attend the so called family meeting, even if Ben was… no longer with them. It would be fun. Those foolish children always were entertaining to watch.

They passed the still body of Grace, arm torn open, with Pogo bending over it with a tool in hand. A ripple of horror passed through them- mostly Klaus, under the rest of Them, somewhere deep and quiet - but the others didn’t share the feeling. One ghost opened up their collective mind to a memory, revealing how the Diego boy had cut into his own mother. A smirk grew on their face. For all of their supposed goodness, They knew that the Hargreeves were a source of violence at heart. After all, many of them had been killed at their hands, their spirits following their murderer home.

They descended the stairs, finding the Hargreeves family already gathered at the bar.

“Klaus, finally,” said Luther.

“Wait, but,” said Diego, “we need to figure this out.”

They noticed that Allison and Diego were both looking at Luther with shocked expressions. “Figure what out?” They asked, tilting their head in an impression of human curiosity.

Luther licked his lips. “Well…”

Footsteps from behind. Vanya. And someone else, a man. “What’s going on?”

“A family matter,” said Allison.

They looked at Vanya’s companion, and the ghost who had trailed in behind him, skull caved in. They beckoned him forward, and eagerly the spirit joined them, allowing them to see; to witness his death, and his son’s stalking, his murder of the violinist. Vanya herself was followed by a few ghosts - nannies from her childhood. They absorbed the memories of her power, violent and untamable, and of Reginald’s fear and his subsequent drugging of the child. Intriguing.

So much power.

“Family matter,” repeated Vanya. The spirits could feel the energy thrumming under her skin. She hadn’t been taking her medication. “So of course you couldn’t be bothered to call me.”

The man (Leonard, Harold, liar ) looked smug at this. They felt a burning rage, echoing from his father, as they watched him.

“Vanya,” They said, “did you know that your boyfriend is a murderer?”

Everyone froze.

“What?” said Vanya.

“Mmm. Rather unfortunate. He murdered his own father at just twelve,” They said.

“Klaus?” called Diego, pulling out a knife.

“He’s lying,” denied Harold.

“And he didn’t stop there,” They continued. “Oh, poor Helen.”

“Helen?” questioned Vanya, voice faint. “Helen Cho?”

They innocently asked, “How did you think the position for First Chair became open?”

“Leonard, are- is he-” stuttered Vanya.

“No! He’s lying, Vanya, you have to believe me!” cried Harold, reaching to take Vanya’s hand. Vanya took a step back.

“He’s been manipulating you this whole time,” They said.

“No, they’re the ones manipulating you! You said it yourself, your family don’t care about you! They just can’t stand to see you happy!” Harold denied, stabbing a finger towards Them.

“In that case,” They said, smiling benignly, “I’m sure you would love to see your dead father.”

Harold blinked. “What?”

They reached for Klaus power, and their fists began to glow. Vanya shrieked, and the rest visibly startled. Jenkins Sr had become corporeal.

Harold’s knees wobbled. “Dad?” he choked out.

“ Murderer!” he hissed, and then lunged forward, tackling Harold and pinning him. The ghost grinned viciously, and threw a heavy punch. Harold’s head snapped to the side.

Another hit. Harold spat blood.

The room began to tremble, just slightly.

Another. His eye was swelling.

“Klaus, that’s enough,” commanded Luther, starting towards them. They held up a hand - goodbye - and Luther stopped, as if he had hit a brick wall. “Klaus?”

Another hit.

“Vanya, don’t you see? You don’t need any of them. You’re powerful, more powerful than you know.” They said, euphoric at the thought of it. So much power. So much destruction. So much death. Each death would be another spirit to join them, strengthen them. They would be so strong.

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed, bringing her hands up to grip her hair.

Allison and Diego were both trying to breach the wall, but They barely felt it.

“They all lied to you, but you’re free now. Free of them, free of those pills. Think how powerful we could be together,” They said.

The ground shaking was more pronounced now, and Vanya was looking around with wide eyes.

“Vanya, don’t listen to him,” begged Allison.

Jenkins had his hands wrapped around his son’s throat. Harold was turning purple, veins throbbing.

A sudden flash of blue - one that had nothing to do with Them - and then Five was collapsing onto the bar, dragging himself upright. “What the hell is happening?”

“Klaus has gone crazy!” yelled Diego.

“Stop him,” said Luther, pushing against the invisible barrier, despite its futility.

They couldn’t allow that.

Just as little Five began to gather his power, hands appeared, grabbing him from every angle.

“ What the fuck!” cried Five, writhing but unable to break free from the ghosts surrounding him. “Klaus, stop!”

Diego pulled a knife, throwing it through the air.

With a flick of their hand, it curved, finding a different mark. Blood splattered.

Harold spasmed, a hand coming up to touch where the knife had plunged into his throat. His eyes rolled back. They laughed.

Another soul to join them.

“Leonard!” cried Vanya. Plaster dusted down from the ceiling.

They heard an intake of breath. Then- “ I heard a rumour-”

They span, snarling.

More ghosts, hands reaching for Allison’s face, over her mouth, smothering her. The girl tried to prise the hands off, along with a desperate Luther, who had run to her side, but They were too powerful.

They laughed. So easy. They walked over to Vanya - or, no, not walked. Their feet didn’t quite touch the ground. The were floating, levitating, the force of their power surrounding them. They were weightless. They hovered above Vanya, smiling down at her. “They’ve earned their destruction,” They said.

Vanya was breathing hard, fast, panicked. Her eyes were turning pale.

A crack ran through the ceiling.

“Hey!”

The shaking stopped.

They turned.

“Ben?” whispered Vanya.

Ben looked at his sister, expression shocked, before turning back to Them. “Klaus? Are you in there?”

They shuddered. Klaus was screaming inside, where they had pushed him down. He was clawing his way to the surface. Their limbs spasmed slightly, and they fell to the ground, onto their knees.

“Klaus?”

Klaus panted. “Ben-” he said, before they shoved him back down brutally, regaining control. They smiled breathlessly. “Klaus isn’t home right now.”

“Klaus, please,” begged Ben, blinking hard. He swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

They laughed. “You think you stand a chance against all of us?”

Ben didn’t acknowledge Them. “Klaus.”

They seized, falling forward, heaving. Klaus was struggling against their hold. Their nose was dripping blood, ears ringing. Klaus had forced his way through. “Ben, it’s okay,” he choked out. “It’s-”

Then he was gone again, buried.

“Klaus,” sobbed Ben.

Then, something unexpected happened.

They hadn’t realised that the ghost would still have his powers.

Tentacles shot from Ben’s stomach, wrapping themselves around Them, lifting Them into the air. They bared their teeth, manifesting a hoard of ghosts to claw at the tentacles, but they were swept away like insects. The tentacles were twining around their neck.

“I’m sorry,” cried Ben.

And then, with a sharp twist, he snapped Klaus’ neck.

Klaus woke up.

Klaus was dead.

It was more familiar than he would have liked.

Despite the terror he had been feeling, here he felt… content. He wasn’t sure that he could feel true fear here.

“There you are.”

Klaus sat up. “Hello, again.”

“You sure did make a mess of that,” the girl said, dismounting her bike to sit next to Klaus on the grass.

“What happened?” asked Klaus.

“ You happened,” the girl quipped. “You pulled yourself through the Other Side just to get back to your body, back to life.”

“And that’s… bad?” ventured Klaus.

The girl sighed. “It is when you have a lot of power and no idea how to wield it. You didn’t even try to put up walls against the dead. Of course they latched on to you.”

“Oh,” murmured Klaus, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around himself.

“It’s no matter. They’re gone now. Time to send you back.”

“Back?” echoed Klaus.

The girl stood, brushing grass off of her dress neatly. “Yes. You’re not done yet.”

“Will… will it happen again?”

The girl shook her head. “No. I’ll help you get back this time. Just make sure that you learn some control next time, hm?” she said, holding a hand out to him.

He reached out, taking her small hand in his.

And then he was gone.

Klaus woke up screaming.

Mad shrieks spilled from his mouth, and he shoved his palms over it, tried to muffle them, but they were still so loud . He was operating on pure adrenaline, legs pushing him back, dragging himself across the floor until his back hit the wall and he could go no further. He felt like he was going to fall apart. His hands twined through his curls and pulled tightly, the prickle of pain grounding him, reminding him that he was alive, that his body was his again.

People were talking, moving towards him, and he cowered back, terrified. His shrieks had resolved into words, begging, “please, no, please, I’m sorry, please-”.

A hand fell onto his shoulder, and he stopped breathing for a moment. His mouth was open, forming shapes, but no sound came out. He began rocking back and forth, panting hard.

“Klaus! Breathe-”

“Is it really him?”

“-could be faking it-”

“What was that?”

“We should contain him now, before he-”

“He’s fucking scared! How will that-”

“Klaus, listen, just breathe-”

“Don’t-”

Then, a flash of blue light, and the familiar sound of a gun being cocked.

Klaus froze, looking up with wide, teary eyes.

Five was pointing the gun at his head.

“Jesus Christ, Five!” yelped Allison, voice croaky from the bruises around her mouth, leading down her throat.

“We have to kill him,” stated Five, hands steady.

“Woah, woah, wait a second,” said Diego.

“You don’t understand! He could be the cause of the apocalypse,” bit out Five.

“Would it even kill him?” asked Luther, voice hesitant. “He just came back from a snapped neck.”

Five placed his finger on the trigger. “There’s only one way to find out.”

And then Ben was there, faintly glowing and looking furious. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed, batting away the barrel and looking surprised when he made contact.

“Ben?” said Five, sounding much less confident than he did a moment ago.

“Five, I love you, but you’re being an idiot,” said Ben, pulling a stiff Five into a hug. Five made a quiet sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, but he didn’t move to hug his brother back.

“B-Ben?” stuttered Diego, and Ben pulled back to smile at his siblings.

“Hi, guys,” he said, almost shyly.

“It’s really you,” breathed Vanya, stepping forward from where she had been hovering behind her siblings.

“Really me,” he agreed, reaching out to squeeze his sister’s hand.

Five’s grave voice interrupted them. “I’m sorry, Ben. I can’t risk it,” he said, raising the gun back to where Klaus was cornered, a determined set to his shoulders.

“Stop!”

Klaus closed his eyes.

Vanya threw herself forward, hand outstretched, not close enough to touch-

Bang.

The bullet buried itself in the wall above Klaus’ head, paint flaked and plaster raining down on him. He flinched, hands over his ears.

Vanya had knocked his aim off. Just not with her hands. She took a shuddering breath, face pale, before turning to her older brother. “If you’re going to kill him, you should kill me too.”

“Vanya-” protested Five.

“No. Look at him! He’s scared! He doesn’t understand his powers, and maybe that makes him dangerous. But guess what? I have powers too! And I have-” she gasped for breath, hands fisting in the material of her shirt, “I have no idea how to control them. So if you’re going to kill him, you should kill me too.”

There was a stunned silence. Then, Allison said, “Five, if you so much as touch Vanya, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Not if I do it first,” growled Diego. Vanya blinked up at him in surprise.

Five’s jaw twitched. “He could kill us all,” he said, though his voice was weak.

“Not if I do it first,” quipped Vanya, shooting a hesitant smile at Diego, who smirked back.

“But-” began Luther.

“Shut up,” hissed Allison, swatting at his broad chest. Luther closed his mouth.

“Put down the gun, Five,” said Ben, voice soft.

Five twitched, but offered the gun out to Ben, who was quick to move it out of reach. Klaus let out a shaky breath, slumping against the wall.

“What now?” asked Luther.

Klaus looked up. “Train us.”

“What?”

“Train us. This is an academy, right? You guys were trained to control your powers,” said Klaus, voice wobbly.

Vanya nodded tightly. “You guys are the closest thing we have to experts.”

Diego snorted. “So that’s it? We’re reopening the academy?”

Allison shrugged. “Better than murdering our sister.”

“I would really rather not be murdered again,” muttered Klaus, pushing himself up onto unsteady legs. Ben reached out to help him up, and Klaus looked down to where they made contact, a grin growing on his face.

Ben smiled, lip wobbling a little, and pulled Klaus into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be an idiot,” giggled Klaus, hands fisting into the back of Ben’s leather jacket. “You saved me.”

“By killing you,” said Ben, voice wet.

Klaus shrugged, the movement jostling Ben. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Ben laughed, releasing him. “Yeah, I guess. Plus, I finally proved that I’m real! And you can make me corporeal now!”

“Which, y’know, thanks for that,” interjected Diego, sounding awkward.

“Huh?” said Klaus.

Diego explained, ears turning red, “If it weren’t for you, we would never have been able to see our brother again. So. Thanks.”

“Oh. That’s- you’re welcome?”

“It’s really good to see you, Ben,” said Five softly.

Ben smiled. “Well, I guess if you’re sticking around, you’ll be seeing me a lot.”

Five smiled, the closest thing to a genuine smile that they had seen since his return. “Then I guess we’ll stick around.”