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"Don't move," Vanya begs, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. Her tears are falling freely now, rolling off her chin and into Klaus's hair.

It's hard to imagine that just a few days ago they'd been laughing, drinking and dancing in Allison's shop. She just got them back, she can't lose them again and yet here she is, holding onto Klaus as he slips away. Still trying to tell them it's going to be okay.

Her hands cradle his neck, her thumb feeling his slowing pulse and she feels like she's the one that's been shot in the chest instead. She shuts her eyes and tries to focus her energy, tries to use her powers to do something. She'd brought Harlan back, but that had been different. Still, she tries, light pulsing through her fingers and lighting up his skin at their touchpoints.

But nothing happens. His pulse only grows fainter under her fingers, the numbness of grief darkening her vision as she watches each pained and slowed movement.

"Klaus, please..." She says, as if he can control it. As if he has a choice. "Don't leave us."

Klaus’s attempts to sit up are met with protests from Allison, too, asking him to stay still, but she doesn’t have to do much. He can hardly move, and for a moment her eyes blur with tears.

That’s why, when Vanya initially tries to use her powers to save Klaus, she doesn’t catch on right away. It’s not until she sees the light at her fingertips that makes her hold her breath, as if somehow that will make a difference and she will manage what Allison can’t. She had saved that little boy, right? Maybe she could save Klaus, too.

But, the bleeding doesn’t stop. Klaus’s breathing doesn’t improve, and Allison feels her heart breaking as the finality sets in. She doesn’t want to accept it, because the failure and the guilt and the pain of it all feel like they’ll decimate her entirely, but she knows, too, that this is it. Klaus is dying. This shouldn’t be it, she doesn’t want this to be it, but...what else can they do?

In a last attempt, Allison focuses her eyes on the chest wound, harnesses her power as much as she can to make him stop bleeding. Maybe with Vanya’s power and her own, maybe they can both make it work. Maybe they can both fix it.

Maybe...

She feels the surge of her power buzzing through her veins in a way that makes her dizzy, but despite it she can feel the way his heart is slowing as her hand continues covering the gaping wound. The blood doesn’t stop. They can’t stop it, and Allison can only bring up Klaus’s hand up to her lips, holding onto him tightly as if somehow that will keep him from letting go.

Klaus can't help but wish that Ben were here right now. For all the horrific things that have happened in his life, Ben had always been at his side. And though things between them hadn't always been the best, the silence in his head with his brother's absence has been miserable. He'd confess to Ben, out of all of them, how scared he is right now.

Vanya's hands are warm at his throat and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. The power doesn't do anything to make him feel better, but she's so warm. If he had the energy to wrap she and Allison into a hug like they had at the salon, he would in a heartbeat.

"Sorry," he says finally, eyes distant, his grip slackening around Allison's hand. He tries to will his fingers to close, to will his body to wait, because maybe, just maybe, they'll figure something out. Five will, maybe even Luther. Then they can all laugh about how stupid Klaus got shot and made them all worry.

But there are no solutions, and he's silly to think there would be. It's fitting, really, that he's been shot in the chest. In the last few seconds of true awareness, he remembers the battlefield, remembers the way Dave clung to him, the way the blood just wouldn't stop. He feels guilt, sharp and swift, because he knows exactly what they're all feeling. What the slick of blood feels like as it pumps too quickly out of a body, how the sounds of labored, wet breathing will haunt your dreams, how the light left Dave's eyes in the dim light of the A Shau valley.

Dave.

Now that is a pleasant thought. His head falls to one side, against the warmth of Vanya's arm, but the corners of his mouth quirk up at the edges. It's not how he planned it, but maybe, just maybe, he could see Dave again. Finally. And while he's still scared, shaking from the shock and blood loss, he suddenly feels a strange sense of calm wash over him. His hand goes slack, his chest stops heaving, and half lidded eyes dim, the fair, mischievous fire extinguished.

It feels like losing Ben all over again, except this time it's Klaus. Luther's face is wet with tears, helplessness twisted so tight inside him that he thinks he might explode, or just fall apart.

"It's okay, Klaus," he says when he apologizes again. As much as he doesn't want Klaus to go, he can't stand seeing him in this kind of pain. Slowly, he fades away, finally going still and Luther feels a piece of himself go with him.

For so long it had been his job to keep all of them safe. He'd even gone as far as to lock up Vanya because he thought that was the only way he could do that. And yet, the hard, unforgiving reality is that he couldn't. Klaus's death hadn't even been intentional, but an accident that none of them could've seen coming.

He puts a hand on Allison's shoulder and looks over at Diego who is just staring at Klaus's unmoving form in with ashen disbelief. He looks for Five, but he's not there. He's going to have to find him, but for now all he can do is try to adjust to a world without Klaus in it.

Even just having his light extinguished seems to make the inside of the barn darker and colder without it.

Allison shakes her head slightly when Klaus apologizes again, wanting to tell him to not speak. To hold on. To not apologize because that's too close to a goodbye that she's not ready to say yet. She wants to tell him he doesn't have to apologize for, that this isn't his fault. She wishes she could ease his pain at the very least, she wants to reassure him that it's okay, but she can't. She can't bring herself to speak anymore, her hands shaking as she tries to stop his bleeding with one hand and the other one holds tightly onto him.

But then his grip loosens, and Klaus is actually gone, and Allison feels her heart shattering all over again. Vanya and Luther are still here, breathing and alive, but to Allison this is the fourth sibling that she has seen die - third one tonight alone, and it's her fault. It's all her fucking fault.

You couldn't stop him, Number Three. You failed, and there are no do-overs. No make ups. He's dead, and it's your fault.

In the back of her head, she knows that Luther is trying to comfort her; she can feel the weight of his hand on her shoulder, but she can't stop staring at Klaus. Her tears keep falling unchecked, but for a moment she's almost too still, almost as if the shock and the impact of it all is too much for her to truly be able to process.

Until someone tries to move her - she can't tell who it is, ultimately it doesn't matter - and Allison stubbornly shakes her head as she holds onto Klaus again. She tries to speak, but it only comes out as a ragged sob as she more or less clings to him. She can't leave him yet. She can't leave him, he can't be alone, he can't--

He can't be gone. God, he can't be gone. Hadn't it just been a few days since she had hugged him in his pool? Since they had been drinking, laughing, and not giving a shit about what people thought about them as they walked with Five to meet the rest? It's so unfair that he's gone, that once again they're separated and now it's for good. He's gone.

He's...

Somehow Luther manages to pry her off of him, her hands covered in Klaus's blood, but it hardly registers. She doesn't care.

Her brother is gone, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

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.

Edited (words) 2020-11-05 03:49 (UTC)

He's sitting at the counter, a hoodie pulled up over his head, as he eats his fourth donut. Or maybe it's his twelfth. He's not sure anymore. He just knows he's been waiting here a while and that somehow each donut tastes exactly the way it did as a kid, light and fluffy with just enough frosting to leave him wanting more.

He hears the bell over the door ring as someone walks in and he shifts in his chair to see Klaus walk in like he owns the place. He looks like shit, but his voice carries through the empty shop, his sing song filling the space. Ben spins around to face him, licking a bit of chocolate frosting off his thumb.

"No, it's not," Ben says, and he wonders if even now he can't help but contradict Klaus out of pure habit. The last few years had been different than the ones before. If only because Klaus had actually been sober enough to listen to him and still ignored most of what he said.

"We don't have long," he says, giving Klaus an apologetic look. "So we're going to have to make this fast."

He pauses, smiling despite himself. "You know, she really doesn't like you."

Edited 2020-11-06 05:23 (UTC)

The sound of Ben's voice is so familiar that he almost doesn't think twice about hearing it, but that's the thing, isn't it? He hears Ben's voice and the way to reverberates off the walls of the empty shop instead of in the space between his own ears. It brings him to a stop almost immediately, frozen in the doorway just staring at Ben.

Something deep in his chest aches, but he thinks it could just be the gunshot wound. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's now standing opposite the very brother he never got to say goodbye to, that he never had the chance to really mourn. A brother he has a thousand apologies for and double the insults.

He opts to disregard the apologetic look on Ben's face. "Surprise, Benerino, to your great surprise I've actually managed to die for real this time, and I'll have you know it was not my fault and no, heavy drugs and alcohol were not involved." Raising one hand as if to make a point, he tilts his head, scrunching up his face in thought. "Well, alcohol, but it stands. Not my fault. Definitely dead. Real shit show, let me tell you."

The words stream out in a fit of nerves as he makes his way to the counter, taking up the space between the stool Ben sits on and the empty one beside it. The lady slaps down a cup of coffee in front of him and the liquid burns. He draws his hand back, giving it a shake and a little hiss for show.

"Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the grave this morning, shit," he breathes, waggling his eyebrows in Ben's direction. It's so good to see him, and yet those words die on his lips. Instead, his expression finally softens and he looks back down at the steaming cup.

"You didn't even say goodbye, you little shitheel. Very rude."

Time is something that's hard to decipher here. He doesn't know the last time he saw Klaus. It feels as if it could've been yesterday, or a hundred years ago. Either way, it's both painfully familiar and maddening to hear him talk of his death so flippantly. He knows most of it is bravado for his or Klaus's own benefit, but it doesn't make it sting any less that his brother is so accepting of this fate.

"Shit show," Ben agrees,turning towards him as the waitress sets down a cup of coffee. He can't help but chuckle a little when Klaus hisses. "Not her," he says, watching the waitress disappear. Though, she doesn't seem to feel very hospitable towards Klaus either. "God."

At Klaus's final words, Ben feels some of his frustration ebb away. "I didn't want to go, Klaus," he says, meeting his brother's eyes and trying to hold them. "It just happened when I was trying to help Vanya." He pauses, looking down at his hands. "But I think it was time."

Klaus doesn't want to talk about this. Doesn't want to talk about the fact that Ben left, that he didn't choose to leave, and that there was nothing Klaus could do to keep him rooted to the world. Maybe more than a decade was more than enough.

He looks across at Ben, one corner of his mouth ticking down into a slight frown. "You saved the day, you know. Stormed right in like an undead Superman and stopped the whole shebang. Shit went sideways anyway, but Vanya's controlling her powers now and I got shot by an angry Swede with a receding hairline. I guess we all go when we go."

Pressing his palms around the mug he draws it closer, raising one of his scalded fingers to his lips when a drop runs down the side of the ceramic mug. He rolls his shoulders, his head, as though trying work through the aftershocks of dying, of the nerves misfiring. "Last time I wound up in this place, I met Dad. And now there's you. Wanna tell me what's really going on, then, Ghostman. I'm definitely dead. Saw the blood, felt the old ticker give out. Then there's the little bitch with the bike. So." He could use a cigarette right about now.

"I heard," he says, his eyes softening as he looks Klaus over. He takes a deep breath. "Did it hurt?"

His death had, in ways that he still couldn't describe or really even think about, but maybe that was part of why it had taken him so long to let go. The thought of Klaus having to go through that, though is painful to think about.

"Well," he says, dragging out the word and looking away from him. "That's the catch. You are dead. It's just, she doesn't want you here."

"Nah, nothing can hurt me," he snorts and takes another sip of the coffee. It's scalding hot and as it hits the back of his throat he grimaces. It's burnt, too. But in actuality the gunshot had hurt like hell and when he's not focused on his brother, he's sure he can feel the searing pain in his chest. He doesn't want to worry Ben.

"But never you mind, I've felt much worse in my time. Like the absolute heartbreak over Bitter Biker Betty out there not wanting me to come around anymore. Joke's on her, I'm dead as a doornail this time, Benny-boy. But better me than one of the others, I guess."

Dying doesn't scare him, really. Not if it looks like this in the end. It's not been long since Ben truly left but hearing his voice even on the air around him feels a little more like normalcy, a little more like home. "Now I can haunt you for not saying goodbye. Even steven."

Ben's about to say that Bitter Biker Betty out there isn't the kind of person that Klaus should mess with, but his last comment makes the thought fly out of his mind as quickly as it came.

Hurt flashes across his face before he speaks. "You think I didn't want to say goodbye?"

There'd been no time for goodbyes. Only Vanya and the world about to fall apart around her. He wouldn't give up being able to help her for anything, but if he had known he wouldn't come out of that room, he would've at least tried to say goodbye.

Klaus half expects Ben to make some snide remark, to lecture him on his treatment of Bitter Biker Betty, on the after life, on the newly inherited drinking habit, but no. Instead, Klaus catches the flash of hurt and his expression sobers, his fingers curling tight around the coffee mug, however burnt.

"Well, I didn't say that..." Ben's the only one capable of drawing out a timbre so vulnerable, and it shows in the slight widening his eyes, the nervous huff, the fidget of his fingers around his mug. Pale eyes drop to the coffee, staring it down as if it has answers.

"But you had to run off and save the day, be all heroic, jeez," he huffs, but there's no heat behind it, not like there might be. Now, it's his turn. He doesn't meet his eyes. "... Did it hurt?"

"No," Ben says, giving him a soft smile. "Vanya held me as I went." He wants Klaus to know he wasn't alone in those final seconds. Because despite what he says or how he acts, he knows he's felt guilty for holding him back all those years. It had never been Klaus's decision, but his own that had kept him there. "It felt like letting go. I didn't realize how hard I'd been fighting to stay until I didn't have to."

He reaches out and puts a hand on Klaus's arm. "It's okay, Klaus. I'm okay."
He pauses, willing Klaus to look back up at him and squeezing his arm. "And you're going to be okay too."

"She doesn't want you here, so she's sending you back."

"Allison. Allison, please." He says it over and over again, his heart breaking as he watches her cling onto Klaus, her grief escaping in sobs and gasps as he tries to get her away from him.

He wraps his arms around her, partly because part of him thinks that she might just fall apart in his arms, and partly because he can't take the sight of her crying over Klaus any longer. He wants to keep it from her. From all of them, but he can't.

Vanya is crying, her breath hitching as if she can't get enough air against Diego, who seems to have taken it upon himself to move over to her. His face is somehow fixed in a blank furiousness, his eyes fixed on Klaus even as his hand rubs Vanya's back absently.

Luther tightens his arms around Allison. "There was nothing we could do," he says, his voice rough as each word scrapes against his heart.

Allison can still remember with stark clarity the day that Ben had died. Not the mission itself, because after going those details it's almost as if her brain has decided to only focus on the gory aftermath. On the blood, on the way that Grace tried to save him. The way the room went quiet when she confirmed he was gone, the way it felt to fall to her knees as the grief felt like it sucker punched her and knocked the air right out of her lungs.

This time, though... Details of the way that Vanya died, the way that Luther died, the way Klaus died are all blurring together in her head. She can see the Swede, the way he looked at her as he made her choose. The panic in Five's face; the look of pain on Vanya's face as she bled out; the way Diego sounded as he tried to wake up Luther; the way that Klaus looked at her as he faded away.

It had been her fault. It's all her fault, and when Luther says there had been nothing they could do, Allison flinches as if the words physically hurt her.

"I couldn't save him," she manages quietly, but the agony in her voice is impossible to miss. "It shouldn't be him. He shouldn't--"

She sobs again, turning back to Klaus. She wants to go back to clinging to him, as if somehow that will bring him back, but she doesn't have the strength to try to pull away from Luther. "...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"There was nothing you could do," Luther says, his voice shaking because as much as he tells Allison he doesn't feel it in his bones. He should've stopped it. He should've taken out the Swede or gotten in the path of the bullet or something.

He's failed again. Another sibling dead because he wasn't good enough or fast enough. And now they all have to deal with a world darker without Klaus's chaotic presence. And Allison is falling apart in front of him and there's nothing he can do to put her back together again.

"It's not your fault." He'll repeat it over and over and over again until she believes it, because it was his.

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oh man im so rusty sorry

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