There's always this strange line between the moment he's sure he's dying and the moment he comes screaming back into life, but this feels different. Like falling down a deep, dark well where the water fills his ears with pressured silence. It's maddening, the way Luther sounds muffled, the way Allison sobs, the way Vanya holds to him. Maddening because it's like they're just beyond the surface, just out of reach.
But when he opens his eyes, he finds himself laying on cold, hard ground. Is he outside? He blinks against the harsh light of the overcast sky and sits up, reaching for his chest first, and finding the wound has either closed up or disappeared somehow. He's struck by the trees and realizes, very suddenly, that he's been here before.
It's the sound of a bike bell that catches his attention - the same girl he'd seen when he met his father however long ago, and something heavy and nervous sinks deep into the pit of his stomach. There's no conjuring this time, no birth-given abilities that can save him from what this is and from the cold, disinterested stare of the girl who skids her bike to a stop and stares at him.
"Do I need to tell you how this works again," the girl asks, bored and unamused. But Klaus just shakes his head, following the line of her extended arm where she points to a clearing in the trees and, conveniently, sits Griddy's Donuts. The inside seems warmly lit and when Klaus's eyes land on it, a neon sign in the window pops to life: now baking.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" But Klaus says it to no one as, when he turns around, the girl is gone. How often had they sneaked out of the house to share donuts and shitty diner coffee together as kids? How often had he, Ben and Five stuffed extra donuts in their jacket pockets for later? When he makes the trek up the hill, he rests a hand on the door and sucks in a deep breath. He can smell the dough, the icing, the burnt coffee.
He misses home, sudden and real, but part of him can't help but wonder who, exactly, is on the other side of these doors. His hands tremble, his heart (does he have a heart now that he's really dead?) beats quickly. It could be Dad, it could be Dave. It could be any number of his cult disciples.
Wait, could he be in hell? He opens the door with a flourish.
"Put a new pot of coffee on, babe, because it's gonna be one hell of a long night," he all but croons into the seemingly empty shop.
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But when he opens his eyes, he finds himself laying on cold, hard ground. Is he outside? He blinks against the harsh light of the overcast sky and sits up, reaching for his chest first, and finding the wound has either closed up or disappeared somehow. He's struck by the trees and realizes, very suddenly, that he's been here before.
It's the sound of a bike bell that catches his attention - the same girl he'd seen when he met his father however long ago, and something heavy and nervous sinks deep into the pit of his stomach. There's no conjuring this time, no birth-given abilities that can save him from what this is and from the cold, disinterested stare of the girl who skids her bike to a stop and stares at him.
"Do I need to tell you how this works again," the girl asks, bored and unamused. But Klaus just shakes his head, following the line of her extended arm where she points to a clearing in the trees and, conveniently, sits Griddy's Donuts. The inside seems warmly lit and when Klaus's eyes land on it, a neon sign in the window pops to life: now baking.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" But Klaus says it to no one as, when he turns around, the girl is gone. How often had they sneaked out of the house to share donuts and shitty diner coffee together as kids? How often had he, Ben and Five stuffed extra donuts in their jacket pockets for later? When he makes the trek up the hill, he rests a hand on the door and sucks in a deep breath. He can smell the dough, the icing, the burnt coffee.
He misses home, sudden and real, but part of him can't help but wonder who, exactly, is on the other side of these doors. His hands tremble, his heart (does he have a heart now that he's really dead?) beats quickly. It could be Dad, it could be Dave. It could be any number of his cult disciples.
Wait, could he be in hell? He opens the door with a flourish.
"Put a new pot of coffee on, babe, because it's gonna be one hell of a long night," he all but croons into the seemingly empty shop.