Umbrella Academy fic: Changing All the Scenery (14/20)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
FOURTEEN
It’s true that this could have gone worse.
But Klaus has to come to admit that it also could have gone better.
A lot better.
He’d wanted to find his brother. That was all. He hadn’t made up his mind about bringing Five home or forgiving him or anything like that. He’d just needed to know the little bastard wasn’t dead.
He had thought it was a low enough target.
But no. Not low enough.
Because for Klaus compulsive need to find his brother, he had been rewarded with kidnapping and incarceration. As if that’s not awesome enough, he’s literally locked in a small cell with the very brother he doesn’t know what he wants to do with. Yeah, his only hope of survival rests with the only person on this planet that he may actually want to throttle with his bare hands.
So, you can imagine how well that’s going.
Klaus isn’t an idiot. He knows he’s being petty about things right now. He knows that his resounding stubbornness is keeping them from plotting anything resembling an effective escape. Sometimes he even tries to convince himself that he needs to put those vindictive impulses aside. But then he looks at Five and the little asshole starts talking and all Klaus can think about is the way Dave’s eyes went vacant.
Of course, every time that happens, it means that he’s not getting out of this cell anytime soon, which means he’s going to spend even more time with this so-called brother of his, festering in his own, caustic blame.
So, yeah, it could be going a lot better.
-o-
Klaus honestly has no idea how long he’s been here. Five seems to be keeping track, but Klaus doesn’t actually care enough to bother. He knows it’s been long enough when Five stops eating, however. At first, he thinks it’s nothing but some stupid grand gestures designed to force Klaus into working with him, but after several skipped meals, Klaus starts to think something is up.
“Just eat something,” Klaus says. He sighs, and runs his dog tags up and down the chain. The Commission didn’t take them, at least. He thinks that must count for something.
Five has curled himself up in a corner, arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes are heavily lidded, but he’s not sleeping. “I’ll eat when you are ready to plan.”
Klaus rolls his eyes, pushing the plate of food that they’re supposed to share toward his brother. “Don’t be an idiot. Eat the food.”
“If you are unwilling to work with me, then I have to hope you will do the work without me,” Five says, making no attempt to pick up the plate. Klaus has started to notice how thin his brother is. In the past few days, his face is starting to look gaunt. “Which means my survival is only impeding your own.”
“Playing the martyr doesn’t suit you,” Klaus says tersely. “So eat the damn meal.”
“It’s not about being a martyr,” Five mutters. “It’s your choice.”
Klaus groans, because he’s sick of that line. Five’s been playing it for days now. “Enough with that!” he says. “This isn’t my choice! Why would any of this be my choice?”
“Sometimes choices are the lesser of two evils,” Five says, and his voice is thin and brittle. He tweaks his eyebrows. “Inaction is a choice, too.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Klaus says. “All this talk about responsibility, but what about you, huh?”
“I already admitted that I probably killed Dave,” Five replies tiredly. This time, he does close his eyes.
Klaus glowers, but it takes too much energy to physically shove his brother for being obstinate. “And your reasons were stupid.”
“They were honest,” Five says, opening his eyes again. “You just didn’t like them.”
“Because you keep saying it was the pragmatic choice!” Klaus counters. “Do you know how that sounds?”
Five dips his head. “I do.”
“Then you understand why this is so frustrating for me!”
Five sighs. Shakily, he reaches out. Klaus thinks he’s going to eat, but with staggering motions, he shoves the plate back at Five with a clatter. “So you’ve made your choice,” he says, and he curls himself up again and closes his eyes. “And I accept that choice with all its consequences, intended and not.”
-o-
Klaus eats the meal because he’s angry. He eats the next one because Five’s a prick, a selfish bastard who will resort to emotional manipulation to prove some kind of point. It makes him hate Five even more, starving himself so Klaus can thrive, and he thinks if Five weren’t so intent on slowly killing himself, Klaus might just have to do it for him.
He won’t, though. He won’t give Five the satisfaction.
Mostly, Klaus stews and refuses to feel guilty. Because okay, fine, Klaus has made his choice, but Five is making his, too.
Consequences, at this point, can’t be much more screwed up than they already are.
-o-
It’s awkward and weird to be held captive in a small, shared cell. There’s no such thing as privacy, and Klaus has to experience a full range of emotions of grief and denial while peeing into a toilet with his brother sitting a few feet away. Klaus, at least, has never been shy or prudish, but it’s getting a little weird.
As Five gets weaker -- by his own choice, thank you very much -- Klaus is struck for the first time how shitty this situation actually is. He’s been so preoccupied with the fact that he’s stuck with Five that he has sort of neglected that he’s stuck.
It’s a problem, he comes to realize.
Worse, he comes to realize, that his chances of escape really do go down without Five.
Five, for all that he’s an asshole, knows the Commission. He has more skills for this kind of thing. In fact, without Five, Klaus is likely to stay here indefinitely or get himself killed.
It occurs to him that this is probably what Five was trying to tell him several days ago when the hunger strike started.
That’s not to say that Five was right.
Five doesn’t get to be right, okay? Not ever.
That doesn’t mean that he can’t be sort of not wrong from time to time.
-o-
Of course, by the time Klaus makes this decision, it might be too late.
This is not his fault, for the record.
None of this is his fault.
But still.
When the next meal comes, Klaus scoots it closer to Five and prods his brother. Five stirs, but lapses back to sleep.
“Okay, listen,” Klaus says, prodding Five again. “You wake up and eat this meal and we’ll talk, okay? Like you wanted. We’ll talk.”
Talking is a choice. It is not the same choice as forgiveness, and Klaus finds this distinction important. He doesn’t have to forgive his brother to work with him, and making sure Five doesn’t die is not the same thing as absolution. These are distinct things, and Klaus will work through things one by one as needed.
Five’s face scrunches up, but he still doesn’t open his eyes.
Klaus sighs in exasperation. This is too difficult. All of this is too difficult. “I get what you’re saying,” he says. “We need a plan. A plan that involves not dying.”
He thinks this is a simple, pragmatic way to approach things. Five should appreciate that.
“Five,” Klaus says, and he reaches down to shakes his brother’s shoulder. “Come on.”
Five’s eyes flutter this time, but he merely looks annoyed. “What do you want?”
“I want a lot of things but that’s not important,” Klaus says. “You’ve never cared about what I want before.”
Five seems to shrug minutely and makes to go back to sleep.
Klaus groans, catching himself falling into the same pattern. “I don’t mean that,” he says. “I just mean, we need to get out of here. Together, right? Two of us against the Commission. We need to get out and then we can hate each other in peace and quiet back in 2019.”
Five’s eyes linger open, but he makes no effort to get up. It’s not clear if he thinks he’s dreaming.
With exasperation, Klaus rolls his eyes. “Which means you need to eat, okay?” he says. “You’re no good to anyone if you die, so get up. Eat. And we’ll talk.”
Five thinks about this for a long second. Then, with an agonizing slowness, he starts to push himself up. For the first time, Klaus sees him move like the old man he claims to be. The weariness in his posture is far beyond the youth of his body. It could be the starvation; it could just be that all his guises are finally gone and there’s nothing left but the real Five, the weak, frail and vulnerable brother who clawed his way out of the apocalypse and back into their lives.
Klaus tightens his jaw and refuses to follow that thought any further.
Sitting up now, Five looks winded. “You changed your mind?”
Klaus shrugs, hoping he looks nonchalant. He doesn’t feel it. “What can I say?” he says. “I finally made the choice.”
Five almost smiles.
Klaus pushes the plate toward him again, and Five reaches down and picks up a piece of bread.
Progress, Klaus thinks as Five takes a small bite. It’s a hell of a thing.
-o-
Klaus is hungry in the sense that he needs to eat, but he finds it oddly gratifying to watch Five eat the meal instead. There’s something solidifying, in a way, knowing that Five isn’t going to die.
It implies that Klaus isn’t going to die.
Which means it’s well beyond the time when they need to break out of this joint.
Five eats a meal; Klaus finds his focus. This is messed up shit, and Klaus knows it. But it’s working.
“The food delivery is the only weak point in the day,” Five says, pulling the bread apart piece by piece. This seems to be his way of slowing down. It’s hard to call it a process of savoring, but it seems to be a matter of efficiently making a small amount of food seem like more. “It’s the only time when the out layers of security are compromised.”
It’s a purpose, but Klaus has to admit, that doesn’t mean that they have much to go on. “They don’t even open the door,” he said skeptically. “They put it through a little slot.”
Five nods; he’s clearly already considered this point. “It would be easier if they did open the door, but we can’t talk about things we don’t have,” he says. “We have to problem solve with our limited resources.”
“How is a door slot a resource?” Klaus asks.
“It’s more of a resource than the walls, floors or ceiling,” he says, nonplussed. “I’ve checked the door itself multiple times. Both the hinges and the locking mechanism are impenetrable from this angle. The slot itself is well designed and reinforced. We’ll never be able to pry it open.”
“That’s not the question, though,” Klaus quickly surmises. “It’s about what we can do when they open the slot for us.”
Weak as he is, Five looks inordinately pleased. It was the same look that Five had given him in the prosthetics office, when Klaus has smashed a water globe on his head. Five takes pleasure in strange things. It would seem weirder if Klaus didn’t find it so gratifying, too.
“The good news is that they have had to make the slot large in order to accommodate the passage of food, water, and the like,” Five continues. He’s starting to sound mildly energetic. Plotting seems to bring out the best in him. Or the worst, Klaus isn’t sure. That’s not a concern for now, at any rate. “Which means we’ll have more room to work with.”
Klaus isn’t sure what that means, but it seems appropriate to play along. If they’re going to survive long enough to hate each other later, they are going to have to work together for now. “Work to do what, pray tell?”
At this, Five almost smiles. “I’ve never done it personally, but the data suggests that it should be possible to rip a human arm off the body. The right amount of pressure and good leverage would be required, but I wouldn’t call it an impossible task.”
Klaus raises his eyebrows. He should be mortified. Somehow, he’s not. “Even if you can make that work, what do you plan to accomplish with a human arm?”
Five shrugs. “Nothing in particular,” he says easily, starting in on the hardened piece of cheese that has been provided with the meal. “But I would figure that the owner would want it back.”
“So they’d open the door,” Klaus realizes.
“And even if we can’t get the arm off, an attack would elicit a response,” Five says.
“You think they’d open the door either way?” Klaus asks.
“If only to separate us, yes,” Five says. He swallows a hunk of cheese and takes a swig of the tepid water. “They like things neat and orderly. If you disrupt their system -- if you make their predictable routines unpredictable -- they tend to respond quickly and harshly.”
This sounds like it makes sense. In fact, it sounds like something Klaus knows already but he’s not quite been able to put into words. More to the point, he hasn’t felt the need, which is probably the problem that Five identified days ago, but it’s not the time to go around telling Five he’s right about anything.
“Okay,” Klaus says slowly. “So that doesn’t actually sound super helpful to us.”
“Of course it’s helpful,” Five says, and his dark brows knit together in consternation. “We have to understand what we’re up against. If we know who we’re working against, then we know how to exploit their weaknesses.”
It’s all a bit hard to forget that Five’s ruthlessness is a problem -- right when Klaus needs that ruthlessness as a solution. “But weaknesses?” Klaus asks, voice hinging on frustration. “Nothing you’ve said, nothing we’ve seen, looks like an actual weakness.”
Five puts a little more food in his mouth, chewing around it easily. “It’s all about our ability to anticipate their moves,” he says. “If we can use logic to derive a likely response to our aggression, then we can come up with a viable counterattack that they aren’t ready for.”
Klaus narrows his eyes. He’s either skeptical or he has no idea what’s going on. It’s probably both, but there’s no need to admit that to Five.
Five seems to know it implicitly anyway. He sighs, pushing the plate away. “Look,” he says. “The Commission is a vast organization. It’s technologically advanced and its scope is almost impossible for us to imagine, and I say that having worked there. They’ve got endless structure, protocol, support staff.”
Klaus’ frown deepens. “Yeah, still not seeing how this is helping--”
“It’s rote for them,” Five says. “The company culture lacks creativity. There’s no one going off book. Everything they do is planned and calculated, which completely leaves them vulnerable to human factors. As an organization, the Commission vastly underestimates human will. It’s all probabilities for them.”
“Huh,” Klaus says, cagey now. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
The implication is not lost on Five. It’s not meant to be. With a deadpanned stare, Five makes no apologies -- because he’s Five. The asshole doesn’t know how to make an apology. “It has its strengths, but it also has its limitations,” he says. Then, more soberly, he adds, “I learned that the hard way.”
It’s not an admission of guilt, but there’s a shred of vulnerability there. Klaus will afford him that much for now. “Okay,” he says. He pauses to pick a few crumbs off the abandoned plate. “Then what do you think we should do?”
It’s exactly the question that Five wants to here. In fact, it seems to perk him up more than the meal. “I think we need to start by understanding what the purpose of this incarceration is,” he says. He nods to their cell block surrounding. “It makes for a very good show, doesn’t it? Because it is. This is a means to an end. They want something from us.”
This is logical, probably. Klaus thinks it is, but logic has never exactly been his strength. He’s also been locked in a cell for awhile and he’s still kind of newly sober and has he mentioned that his brother killed his boyfriend?
Focus, he reminds himself.
Focus.
He presses his lips into a thin, thin smile. “You would think that they would have demanded something by now if that was the case.”
Five only seems too happy to disprove that point. “Why?” he asks. “The Commission has nothing time. They have the luxury of waiting days, weeks, months, years. They can wait decades and it’s all the same to them. Time is their weapon, and they are never afraid to use it.”
Klaus makes a face. The more he knows about these crazy people, the less he likes. It’s hard for him to remember if Five was like this before he ran away at 13, which is why he fit in so well at the Commission in the first place. Or, he allows himself to wonder, was the need to assimilate to this sadistic company culture so strong that it broke Five?
That’s the sympathetic view.
Klaus is not that sympathetic.
He’s working with Five, yes. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready to actually justify what he’s done. “So, what, then,” Klaus says, lifting a diffident hand in the air. “This is just their way of getting us ready.”
“Exactly,” Five says with far more enthusiasm than he looks like he’s capable of mustering at the moment. “They’re waiting for their moment.”
“Their moment to what?” Klaus demands. This is his choice, and he’s acknowledging that, but Five could stop posturing for a few minutes and get to the damn point already.
“Well, they want to do the same thing to us that we want to do to them,” Five concludes. “They’re looking to exploit our weakness, which they think they can escalate by ongoing, prolonged isolation.”
Klaus doesn’t quite have the heart to say that they’re probably right because of course they’re probably right. Debating minutia with Five is a mistake. He takes a more to the point approach for the sake of his self control. “So how does that help us escape, then?”
“Because,” Five says. “We move up the timeline. We force them to intervene earlier. This means they have to compromise their pacing and we are in a better place to resist their offer.”
“Offer?”
“They aren’t keeping us here for information,” Five says. “They want us to do something for them. And they want to make sure we say yes.”
“So, let me see if I’ve got this right,” Klaus says, eyeing Five cautiously. “You want to attack a guard in order to force the Commission’s hand. That way, when they make their move on us, we will -- well, what exactly?”
“We fight our way out,” Five says, like it’s that simple. “I can probably get us to a less secure area, which is when you can use your powers. Once you can access your powers, we’ll be virtually unstoppable. We’ll need to regroup before we can make a jump back to 2019, but I think if we stick together, we should be able to pull it off.”
It’s an audaciously simple plan. There’s so little to it that it sounds like it could work.
Except there’s no way it could work. There are so many gaps and holes that Klaus doesn’t even know where to start.
So, essentially, he decides not to start.
Will this approach get them killed?
Very likely.
Will it work at all?
Probably not.
But then, why would that be so bad? Either he escapes and gets to rebuild his life or he dies and doesn’t have to worry about it. Either solution is better than sitting here, locked in a cell, with the constant reminder of his loss sitting across from him the whole time.
In short, Klaus has gone for more with less.
“Well, okay,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Then it sounds like we have a plan, brother of mine.”
-o-
In a way, Klaus and Five are actually quite compatible.
Five is a tireless worker. He’s relentless; he doesn’t stop. He thinks of every contingency, plans for every possibility. He’s tireless and dogged and disciplined.
Klaus is none of those things. He is, however, crazy enough to go along with anything, and when he goes all in, then he goes all in. He may not bring his A game until the pressure’s on, but if Five can do the planning, Klaus can provide the finesse.
It’s the perfect working relationship, the kind their father had wanted all along.
Of course, there is the small problem that Five is a murderer and Klaus can never forgive him, but that’s neither here nor there for the moment.
For the moment, for this singular moment, it’s all about escape.
When there is rustling at the door, it’s impossible to say exactly how long it’s been. It doesn’t much matter. Five’s ready. Klaus is ready.
Exchanging a glance, Klaus tenses as Five moves into position. They wait, several, long painful moments, as the metal clinks and snicks, and the latch to the food slot slides open. It happens with almost excruciating slowness as the guard seems to fumble on the outside. Klaus holds his breath; Five’s entire body is coiled and ready to spring.
The tray, dull gray and small, starts to come through. The hunk of cheese is smaller than usual and the bread looks as hard as a rock. Klaus isn’t sure why he’s analyzing the food except that he is kind of hungry.
Five’s on point, though.
As the tray descends, he lashes out. With quick movements, he yanks the hand forward. There’s a yelp and an oof. Five wrenches, and Klaus hears something snap after there’s a heavy thudding against the door. The tray clatters to the floor, the food skidding away. The fingers go lax in Five’s grip, and Five twists the arm again for good measure before letting it fall limply to the ground.
As discussed, they both step back. This is the first step, and Klaus’ participation in this step had been minimal. For a full fledged escape, however, he’ll need to step things up a notch or ten.
Is Klaus actually ready for this?
Is he?
Why is he asking this now?
Why is he even thinking about this now?
Why does he trust his brother to do this? Why does he trust Five? Why does he trust the man who killed Dave?
A means to an end, you might say.
But Klaus can’t rationalize that, can he?
His heart is pounding; his blood is rushing in his ears.
There’s no time for questions, so there’s sure as hell not time for answers. He wets his lips, rocks on the balls of his feet. Across the cell, Five is in striking position.
There is more movement outside the door. The limp body is pulled away and they listen as the locking mechanism scrapes. The handle moves, imperceptibly at first, but then the door creaks open.
Five shakes his head, an implicit order to hold his ground, to wait. It’s a lead that Klaus follows, and he’s holding his breath as the door swings open with a whine of the hinge.
Klaus is ready to move, but it’s Five who is frozen to the spot. His brother’s face has gone hard, his eyes wide. It’s a few seconds later when Klaus finally figures out why.
As anticipated, there’s someone behind the door to check on them.
Not as anticipated, that person is adorned in a feminine trench coat with her gray hair styled in a neat bob. Her lips are painted red and the powder on her face almost covers the worst of her scars. She smiles.
“Hello, boys,” she says.
Five is fuming but he’s still standing like he’s been struck dumb. Klaus thinks about following through on the plan, but he’s not sure it would work without Five. No, scratch that, he knows it wouldn’t work.
The Handler smiles widely. “Looks like you’re finally ready to talk.”
-o-
It’s all very dramatic. It is.
Klaus is usually good with drama, but he is finding this situation increasingly disconcerting. It could be because this is a crazy lady who kidnapped him and kept him locked in a cell with the one sibling he absolutely can’t stand.
That’s the option Klaus deems more understandable.
The one that seems more palpable, however, is the unsettling reality of his murderous little brother, who has never been scared of anything, standing there like he’s scared shitless.
Because that’s what’s going on here.
That’s why Five’s frozen.
That’s why the plan has gone to absolute shit.
Five’s not just caught off guard.
Five’s scared.
Klaus can’t even make that computer.
Why is Five scared? When has Five ever been scared? This is Five. Five’s not scared. Five’s an assassin, the master of his own choices. Five’s in control.
Except, of course, when he’s not.
He’s not in control now.
Klaus doesn’t want to think about if he’s been in control of any of this.
Glancing anxiously between Five and the Handler, it becomes painfully obvious that it’s up to Klaus to make the decisions now. It’s his lead that they’re going to have to follow, and that’s screwed up and it’s probably going to be a disaster, but here they are.
Clearing his throat, he steps closer to Five out of instinct. His hands are up. “We do want to talk,” he says, and he makes an effort to keep his voice from wavering. He huffs with a breathless laugh. “Because, frankly, this service is unacceptable.” He nods around to the cell with an air of disgust. “We would formally like to lodge a complaint.”
She looks amused, actually. Or pleased. Possibly both. “Yes, well, I’m afraid that has rather been the point.”
She’s not even trying to deny it, which is either reassuring or terrifying. Klaus is too hyped up on adrenaline at this point to know. “Of course,” he says. “Because you obviously want to piss off two really dangerous and really pissed off people with superpowers. Makes total sense.”
She looks as if what he’s saying is absolutely adorable. Klaus steals a glance at Five, but his brother is still standing, lock knees, lips pressed thin. “You haven’t always been the most receptive audiences,” she explains, sounding like she’s making an apology without sounding remotely sorry. “We figured a little time might help you be more open to listening.”
Klaus inches closer still to his brother, hoping to encourage him out of his stock still position. “Well, okay, then,” he says, throwing his arms wide. He tries -- and fails -- to catch Five’s eye. “We’re listening.”
“No we,” she says. She tweaks her eyebrows, her gaze zeroed in on Klaus. “I mean, that is how you prefer it, don’t you? Given what your brother has done to you?”
Klaus’ throat tightens, and he tries not to let it jar him. The emotional response is real, but he can sense the level of manipulation being used. The problem is that it’s really damn effective. “Somehow, I would think that if you actually cared, you wouldn’t have locked me in a cell with him.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “It provides perspective, I hope,” she says. “So you understand the real benefit of the offer I’m about to make you.”
Klaus is expecting threats. He’s expecting pain and torture.
Instead, the Handler spreads her hands out quite amicably. “See, I want to give you the choice to walk out of this cell, right here, right now.”
Klaus looks to Five. His brother is pale; it’s not clear if he’s breathing at this point.
“You can go free,” the Handler says in grandiose fashion. “You’ll be able to live your life any time, any place.”
It’s a trap, Klaus thinks. He thinks, he thinks, he thinks. It has to be a trap. Doesn’t it? This is a trap.
These are killers and murderers who have tried to kill him.
And they also haven’t lied to him.
Klaus looks desperately at Five, hoping for any kind of affirmation or dissuasion.
“In fact, I’m prepared to sweeten the deal,” the Handler says warmly. “Walk out right now, make that choice, and we can bring Dave Katz back.”
All thoughts of protest, all thoughts of fighting, all thoughts of Five -- vanish. Logic dissipates. Klaus’ adrenaline turns to sludge in his veins. “What?” he asks.
The Handler nods earnestly. “It wouldn’t be a hard fix,” she says. “You can go live with him in the 1960s. Or, we can pull you both out, put you anywhere you like. Live a happy life with him in 2019. Go explore the past. The sky’s the limit, yours for the taking.”
It’s such a happy ending.
No, not a happy ending.
A perfect ending.
Shit, it’s the only ending he’s ever wanted.
Dave.
All this time, all this loss, all this everything.
Klaus wants it so bad it hurts, it actually hurts.
“Just make the choice,” the Handler almost coaches with a sweet smile. “One simple choice.”
Go figure, now’s the time that Five decides to remember that he’s alive. He shakes his head, voice raw and rough when he speaks. “It’s a trick,” he says. “Klaus, you know it’s a trick.”
Klaus looks at Five, but his focus has been torn now. “You said it yourself, they’re not liars--”
“Because they use the truth against you,” Five says.
“No, just against you,” Klaus says. “It’s not their fault you killed Dave.”
Five’s jaw works. “They gave the orders,” he says. “And they sent you the intel. And now they’re offering you a choice? It’s not a choice, not really.”
“Oh, like the choice you gave me?” Klaus volleys back. “Where you told me I could kill you or let you go? That choice?”
“I meant that,” Five says.
“Which is how it ended up like this?” Klaus asks. “Is this what you meant?”
Five shakes his head, and he grits his teeth now. “Mistakes are one thing,” he says. “Willingly trusting the enemy--”
Klaus laughs. He has to laugh. “You’re the one who pulled the trigger!” he says. “You’re the reason we’re here, aren’t you?”
The color has more than drained from Five’s face now. His complexion is almost translucent, his eyes piercingly sharp as he stares Klaus down. “You can’t make the same mistake I made,” he says. “The Commission is using you.”
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Klaus steps back this time, his throat feeling tight. “They can bring back Dave.”
“At what price?” Five asks. He turns to the Handler, suddenly galvanized. “At what price?”
She shrugs diffidently, but Klaus isn’t interested. His eyes narrow on Five. “Does it matter?” he asks. “You stole Dave; they can give him back.”
“But you have to ask what you’re willing to pay for that,” Five says. “They’re not making this offer without knowing what’s in it for them.”
“And what about me?” Klaus demands. “Do you hate me that much? What about me, Five? Do you ever stop and think about that?”
“Every day,” Five growls. He steps toward Klaus. “Remember the plan--”
Klaus holds up his arms and steps back again. “Your plan? When has your plan ever worked?”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Five says. “The world didn’t end--”
“Mine did!” Klaus explodes. “Mine did!”
Five’s mouth closes.
Klaus looks back to the Handler, and he knows the decision is made. “Fine,” he says, and he’s done thinking about it. He’s done thinking about everything. He’s just done. “You have a deal.”
There is satisfaction that glints in her eyes. “Wonderful,” she says. She raises her hand and snaps her fingers. “A few minor details to attend to, first.”
Before Klaus knows what’s happening, two guards come in. He tenses, but they sweep past him entirely. Five doesn’t fight as they take him by the arms, forcibly dragging him toward the door. There’s a look of warning in his eyes, but he says nothing, and Klaus feels something hollow in the pit of his stomach. “Where are you taking him?”
“Does it matter?” the Handler asks. “He’s not going to get in your way again.”
Klaus doesn’t flinch; he can’t flinch. This is his choice, his.
“Now,” the Handler says, taking a few steps closer to him. “As to the issue at hand. Logistically, things will require a little finesse. Time travel, I’m sure you understand. It’s not so simple.”
“Okay,” Klaus says slowly, for the lack of something better to say.
“This kind of correction is, of course, outside our normal operating procedures,” the Handler continues. “We are going to need a few safeguards in place. You know, to protect the sanctity of the time-space continuum.”
Klaus, honestly, has no idea what she’s talking about. It actually feels like he could be high, for as surreal as it is. Or maybe he just wishes he was.
“We’ll need a token, perhaps,” the Handler says. “Something to tie you back to that point in time. Something to ground the process, to connect back to Mr. Katz.”
Klaus stares at her blankly for another minute longer. For all his righteous anger, he’s out of ideas now.
She presses her lips together with a patient smile. She holds out her hand and nods at him with restraint expectation. “The dog tags, perhaps?”
This time, Klaus does flinch. Instinctively, his hand goes up, clutching at the tags. He’s worn them since he left Vietnam. He’s worn them as a constant reminder. Of Dave. Of the person he’d been. Of the best time of his life. Of the best version of himself.
He’s not taken them off. Not when the world ended. Not when it didn’t. Not when he was sober, and not when he was drunk. They were a part of him.
The Handler’s expression is completely professional, hand still outstretched expectantly. “It’s a small, but necessary sacrifice,” she says, as if to assure him. “One last thing before you get everything you want.”
The choice is made, he reminds himself. The choice is made.
His fingers clutch tighter around it, pulling off the dog tags over his head. He reaches out, letting them dangle over the Handler’s waiting hand. He lingers, feeling the familiar metal, before he finally lets it go.
It falls, crumpling into her hand.
She closes her fingers around the tags, pulling them back. “Excellent,” she says. “You made the right choice, Klaus. I promise you that.”
That’s reassuring, or it should be.
It’s just that Klaus realizes, rather belatedly, that he has no idea what choice that is.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
FOURTEEN
It’s true that this could have gone worse.
But Klaus has to come to admit that it also could have gone better.
A lot better.
He’d wanted to find his brother. That was all. He hadn’t made up his mind about bringing Five home or forgiving him or anything like that. He’d just needed to know the little bastard wasn’t dead.
He had thought it was a low enough target.
But no. Not low enough.
Because for Klaus compulsive need to find his brother, he had been rewarded with kidnapping and incarceration. As if that’s not awesome enough, he’s literally locked in a small cell with the very brother he doesn’t know what he wants to do with. Yeah, his only hope of survival rests with the only person on this planet that he may actually want to throttle with his bare hands.
So, you can imagine how well that’s going.
Klaus isn’t an idiot. He knows he’s being petty about things right now. He knows that his resounding stubbornness is keeping them from plotting anything resembling an effective escape. Sometimes he even tries to convince himself that he needs to put those vindictive impulses aside. But then he looks at Five and the little asshole starts talking and all Klaus can think about is the way Dave’s eyes went vacant.
Of course, every time that happens, it means that he’s not getting out of this cell anytime soon, which means he’s going to spend even more time with this so-called brother of his, festering in his own, caustic blame.
So, yeah, it could be going a lot better.
-o-
Klaus honestly has no idea how long he’s been here. Five seems to be keeping track, but Klaus doesn’t actually care enough to bother. He knows it’s been long enough when Five stops eating, however. At first, he thinks it’s nothing but some stupid grand gestures designed to force Klaus into working with him, but after several skipped meals, Klaus starts to think something is up.
“Just eat something,” Klaus says. He sighs, and runs his dog tags up and down the chain. The Commission didn’t take them, at least. He thinks that must count for something.
Five has curled himself up in a corner, arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes are heavily lidded, but he’s not sleeping. “I’ll eat when you are ready to plan.”
Klaus rolls his eyes, pushing the plate of food that they’re supposed to share toward his brother. “Don’t be an idiot. Eat the food.”
“If you are unwilling to work with me, then I have to hope you will do the work without me,” Five says, making no attempt to pick up the plate. Klaus has started to notice how thin his brother is. In the past few days, his face is starting to look gaunt. “Which means my survival is only impeding your own.”
“Playing the martyr doesn’t suit you,” Klaus says tersely. “So eat the damn meal.”
“It’s not about being a martyr,” Five mutters. “It’s your choice.”
Klaus groans, because he’s sick of that line. Five’s been playing it for days now. “Enough with that!” he says. “This isn’t my choice! Why would any of this be my choice?”
“Sometimes choices are the lesser of two evils,” Five says, and his voice is thin and brittle. He tweaks his eyebrows. “Inaction is a choice, too.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Klaus says. “All this talk about responsibility, but what about you, huh?”
“I already admitted that I probably killed Dave,” Five replies tiredly. This time, he does close his eyes.
Klaus glowers, but it takes too much energy to physically shove his brother for being obstinate. “And your reasons were stupid.”
“They were honest,” Five says, opening his eyes again. “You just didn’t like them.”
“Because you keep saying it was the pragmatic choice!” Klaus counters. “Do you know how that sounds?”
Five dips his head. “I do.”
“Then you understand why this is so frustrating for me!”
Five sighs. Shakily, he reaches out. Klaus thinks he’s going to eat, but with staggering motions, he shoves the plate back at Five with a clatter. “So you’ve made your choice,” he says, and he curls himself up again and closes his eyes. “And I accept that choice with all its consequences, intended and not.”
-o-
Klaus eats the meal because he’s angry. He eats the next one because Five’s a prick, a selfish bastard who will resort to emotional manipulation to prove some kind of point. It makes him hate Five even more, starving himself so Klaus can thrive, and he thinks if Five weren’t so intent on slowly killing himself, Klaus might just have to do it for him.
He won’t, though. He won’t give Five the satisfaction.
Mostly, Klaus stews and refuses to feel guilty. Because okay, fine, Klaus has made his choice, but Five is making his, too.
Consequences, at this point, can’t be much more screwed up than they already are.
-o-
It’s awkward and weird to be held captive in a small, shared cell. There’s no such thing as privacy, and Klaus has to experience a full range of emotions of grief and denial while peeing into a toilet with his brother sitting a few feet away. Klaus, at least, has never been shy or prudish, but it’s getting a little weird.
As Five gets weaker -- by his own choice, thank you very much -- Klaus is struck for the first time how shitty this situation actually is. He’s been so preoccupied with the fact that he’s stuck with Five that he has sort of neglected that he’s stuck.
It’s a problem, he comes to realize.
Worse, he comes to realize, that his chances of escape really do go down without Five.
Five, for all that he’s an asshole, knows the Commission. He has more skills for this kind of thing. In fact, without Five, Klaus is likely to stay here indefinitely or get himself killed.
It occurs to him that this is probably what Five was trying to tell him several days ago when the hunger strike started.
That’s not to say that Five was right.
Five doesn’t get to be right, okay? Not ever.
That doesn’t mean that he can’t be sort of not wrong from time to time.
-o-
Of course, by the time Klaus makes this decision, it might be too late.
This is not his fault, for the record.
None of this is his fault.
But still.
When the next meal comes, Klaus scoots it closer to Five and prods his brother. Five stirs, but lapses back to sleep.
“Okay, listen,” Klaus says, prodding Five again. “You wake up and eat this meal and we’ll talk, okay? Like you wanted. We’ll talk.”
Talking is a choice. It is not the same choice as forgiveness, and Klaus finds this distinction important. He doesn’t have to forgive his brother to work with him, and making sure Five doesn’t die is not the same thing as absolution. These are distinct things, and Klaus will work through things one by one as needed.
Five’s face scrunches up, but he still doesn’t open his eyes.
Klaus sighs in exasperation. This is too difficult. All of this is too difficult. “I get what you’re saying,” he says. “We need a plan. A plan that involves not dying.”
He thinks this is a simple, pragmatic way to approach things. Five should appreciate that.
“Five,” Klaus says, and he reaches down to shakes his brother’s shoulder. “Come on.”
Five’s eyes flutter this time, but he merely looks annoyed. “What do you want?”
“I want a lot of things but that’s not important,” Klaus says. “You’ve never cared about what I want before.”
Five seems to shrug minutely and makes to go back to sleep.
Klaus groans, catching himself falling into the same pattern. “I don’t mean that,” he says. “I just mean, we need to get out of here. Together, right? Two of us against the Commission. We need to get out and then we can hate each other in peace and quiet back in 2019.”
Five’s eyes linger open, but he makes no effort to get up. It’s not clear if he thinks he’s dreaming.
With exasperation, Klaus rolls his eyes. “Which means you need to eat, okay?” he says. “You’re no good to anyone if you die, so get up. Eat. And we’ll talk.”
Five thinks about this for a long second. Then, with an agonizing slowness, he starts to push himself up. For the first time, Klaus sees him move like the old man he claims to be. The weariness in his posture is far beyond the youth of his body. It could be the starvation; it could just be that all his guises are finally gone and there’s nothing left but the real Five, the weak, frail and vulnerable brother who clawed his way out of the apocalypse and back into their lives.
Klaus tightens his jaw and refuses to follow that thought any further.
Sitting up now, Five looks winded. “You changed your mind?”
Klaus shrugs, hoping he looks nonchalant. He doesn’t feel it. “What can I say?” he says. “I finally made the choice.”
Five almost smiles.
Klaus pushes the plate toward him again, and Five reaches down and picks up a piece of bread.
Progress, Klaus thinks as Five takes a small bite. It’s a hell of a thing.
-o-
Klaus is hungry in the sense that he needs to eat, but he finds it oddly gratifying to watch Five eat the meal instead. There’s something solidifying, in a way, knowing that Five isn’t going to die.
It implies that Klaus isn’t going to die.
Which means it’s well beyond the time when they need to break out of this joint.
Five eats a meal; Klaus finds his focus. This is messed up shit, and Klaus knows it. But it’s working.
“The food delivery is the only weak point in the day,” Five says, pulling the bread apart piece by piece. This seems to be his way of slowing down. It’s hard to call it a process of savoring, but it seems to be a matter of efficiently making a small amount of food seem like more. “It’s the only time when the out layers of security are compromised.”
It’s a purpose, but Klaus has to admit, that doesn’t mean that they have much to go on. “They don’t even open the door,” he said skeptically. “They put it through a little slot.”
Five nods; he’s clearly already considered this point. “It would be easier if they did open the door, but we can’t talk about things we don’t have,” he says. “We have to problem solve with our limited resources.”
“How is a door slot a resource?” Klaus asks.
“It’s more of a resource than the walls, floors or ceiling,” he says, nonplussed. “I’ve checked the door itself multiple times. Both the hinges and the locking mechanism are impenetrable from this angle. The slot itself is well designed and reinforced. We’ll never be able to pry it open.”
“That’s not the question, though,” Klaus quickly surmises. “It’s about what we can do when they open the slot for us.”
Weak as he is, Five looks inordinately pleased. It was the same look that Five had given him in the prosthetics office, when Klaus has smashed a water globe on his head. Five takes pleasure in strange things. It would seem weirder if Klaus didn’t find it so gratifying, too.
“The good news is that they have had to make the slot large in order to accommodate the passage of food, water, and the like,” Five continues. He’s starting to sound mildly energetic. Plotting seems to bring out the best in him. Or the worst, Klaus isn’t sure. That’s not a concern for now, at any rate. “Which means we’ll have more room to work with.”
Klaus isn’t sure what that means, but it seems appropriate to play along. If they’re going to survive long enough to hate each other later, they are going to have to work together for now. “Work to do what, pray tell?”
At this, Five almost smiles. “I’ve never done it personally, but the data suggests that it should be possible to rip a human arm off the body. The right amount of pressure and good leverage would be required, but I wouldn’t call it an impossible task.”
Klaus raises his eyebrows. He should be mortified. Somehow, he’s not. “Even if you can make that work, what do you plan to accomplish with a human arm?”
Five shrugs. “Nothing in particular,” he says easily, starting in on the hardened piece of cheese that has been provided with the meal. “But I would figure that the owner would want it back.”
“So they’d open the door,” Klaus realizes.
“And even if we can’t get the arm off, an attack would elicit a response,” Five says.
“You think they’d open the door either way?” Klaus asks.
“If only to separate us, yes,” Five says. He swallows a hunk of cheese and takes a swig of the tepid water. “They like things neat and orderly. If you disrupt their system -- if you make their predictable routines unpredictable -- they tend to respond quickly and harshly.”
This sounds like it makes sense. In fact, it sounds like something Klaus knows already but he’s not quite been able to put into words. More to the point, he hasn’t felt the need, which is probably the problem that Five identified days ago, but it’s not the time to go around telling Five he’s right about anything.
“Okay,” Klaus says slowly. “So that doesn’t actually sound super helpful to us.”
“Of course it’s helpful,” Five says, and his dark brows knit together in consternation. “We have to understand what we’re up against. If we know who we’re working against, then we know how to exploit their weaknesses.”
It’s all a bit hard to forget that Five’s ruthlessness is a problem -- right when Klaus needs that ruthlessness as a solution. “But weaknesses?” Klaus asks, voice hinging on frustration. “Nothing you’ve said, nothing we’ve seen, looks like an actual weakness.”
Five puts a little more food in his mouth, chewing around it easily. “It’s all about our ability to anticipate their moves,” he says. “If we can use logic to derive a likely response to our aggression, then we can come up with a viable counterattack that they aren’t ready for.”
Klaus narrows his eyes. He’s either skeptical or he has no idea what’s going on. It’s probably both, but there’s no need to admit that to Five.
Five seems to know it implicitly anyway. He sighs, pushing the plate away. “Look,” he says. “The Commission is a vast organization. It’s technologically advanced and its scope is almost impossible for us to imagine, and I say that having worked there. They’ve got endless structure, protocol, support staff.”
Klaus’ frown deepens. “Yeah, still not seeing how this is helping--”
“It’s rote for them,” Five says. “The company culture lacks creativity. There’s no one going off book. Everything they do is planned and calculated, which completely leaves them vulnerable to human factors. As an organization, the Commission vastly underestimates human will. It’s all probabilities for them.”
“Huh,” Klaus says, cagey now. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
The implication is not lost on Five. It’s not meant to be. With a deadpanned stare, Five makes no apologies -- because he’s Five. The asshole doesn’t know how to make an apology. “It has its strengths, but it also has its limitations,” he says. Then, more soberly, he adds, “I learned that the hard way.”
It’s not an admission of guilt, but there’s a shred of vulnerability there. Klaus will afford him that much for now. “Okay,” he says. He pauses to pick a few crumbs off the abandoned plate. “Then what do you think we should do?”
It’s exactly the question that Five wants to here. In fact, it seems to perk him up more than the meal. “I think we need to start by understanding what the purpose of this incarceration is,” he says. He nods to their cell block surrounding. “It makes for a very good show, doesn’t it? Because it is. This is a means to an end. They want something from us.”
This is logical, probably. Klaus thinks it is, but logic has never exactly been his strength. He’s also been locked in a cell for awhile and he’s still kind of newly sober and has he mentioned that his brother killed his boyfriend?
Focus, he reminds himself.
Focus.
He presses his lips into a thin, thin smile. “You would think that they would have demanded something by now if that was the case.”
Five only seems too happy to disprove that point. “Why?” he asks. “The Commission has nothing time. They have the luxury of waiting days, weeks, months, years. They can wait decades and it’s all the same to them. Time is their weapon, and they are never afraid to use it.”
Klaus makes a face. The more he knows about these crazy people, the less he likes. It’s hard for him to remember if Five was like this before he ran away at 13, which is why he fit in so well at the Commission in the first place. Or, he allows himself to wonder, was the need to assimilate to this sadistic company culture so strong that it broke Five?
That’s the sympathetic view.
Klaus is not that sympathetic.
He’s working with Five, yes. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready to actually justify what he’s done. “So, what, then,” Klaus says, lifting a diffident hand in the air. “This is just their way of getting us ready.”
“Exactly,” Five says with far more enthusiasm than he looks like he’s capable of mustering at the moment. “They’re waiting for their moment.”
“Their moment to what?” Klaus demands. This is his choice, and he’s acknowledging that, but Five could stop posturing for a few minutes and get to the damn point already.
“Well, they want to do the same thing to us that we want to do to them,” Five concludes. “They’re looking to exploit our weakness, which they think they can escalate by ongoing, prolonged isolation.”
Klaus doesn’t quite have the heart to say that they’re probably right because of course they’re probably right. Debating minutia with Five is a mistake. He takes a more to the point approach for the sake of his self control. “So how does that help us escape, then?”
“Because,” Five says. “We move up the timeline. We force them to intervene earlier. This means they have to compromise their pacing and we are in a better place to resist their offer.”
“Offer?”
“They aren’t keeping us here for information,” Five says. “They want us to do something for them. And they want to make sure we say yes.”
“So, let me see if I’ve got this right,” Klaus says, eyeing Five cautiously. “You want to attack a guard in order to force the Commission’s hand. That way, when they make their move on us, we will -- well, what exactly?”
“We fight our way out,” Five says, like it’s that simple. “I can probably get us to a less secure area, which is when you can use your powers. Once you can access your powers, we’ll be virtually unstoppable. We’ll need to regroup before we can make a jump back to 2019, but I think if we stick together, we should be able to pull it off.”
It’s an audaciously simple plan. There’s so little to it that it sounds like it could work.
Except there’s no way it could work. There are so many gaps and holes that Klaus doesn’t even know where to start.
So, essentially, he decides not to start.
Will this approach get them killed?
Very likely.
Will it work at all?
Probably not.
But then, why would that be so bad? Either he escapes and gets to rebuild his life or he dies and doesn’t have to worry about it. Either solution is better than sitting here, locked in a cell, with the constant reminder of his loss sitting across from him the whole time.
In short, Klaus has gone for more with less.
“Well, okay,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Then it sounds like we have a plan, brother of mine.”
-o-
In a way, Klaus and Five are actually quite compatible.
Five is a tireless worker. He’s relentless; he doesn’t stop. He thinks of every contingency, plans for every possibility. He’s tireless and dogged and disciplined.
Klaus is none of those things. He is, however, crazy enough to go along with anything, and when he goes all in, then he goes all in. He may not bring his A game until the pressure’s on, but if Five can do the planning, Klaus can provide the finesse.
It’s the perfect working relationship, the kind their father had wanted all along.
Of course, there is the small problem that Five is a murderer and Klaus can never forgive him, but that’s neither here nor there for the moment.
For the moment, for this singular moment, it’s all about escape.
When there is rustling at the door, it’s impossible to say exactly how long it’s been. It doesn’t much matter. Five’s ready. Klaus is ready.
Exchanging a glance, Klaus tenses as Five moves into position. They wait, several, long painful moments, as the metal clinks and snicks, and the latch to the food slot slides open. It happens with almost excruciating slowness as the guard seems to fumble on the outside. Klaus holds his breath; Five’s entire body is coiled and ready to spring.
The tray, dull gray and small, starts to come through. The hunk of cheese is smaller than usual and the bread looks as hard as a rock. Klaus isn’t sure why he’s analyzing the food except that he is kind of hungry.
Five’s on point, though.
As the tray descends, he lashes out. With quick movements, he yanks the hand forward. There’s a yelp and an oof. Five wrenches, and Klaus hears something snap after there’s a heavy thudding against the door. The tray clatters to the floor, the food skidding away. The fingers go lax in Five’s grip, and Five twists the arm again for good measure before letting it fall limply to the ground.
As discussed, they both step back. This is the first step, and Klaus’ participation in this step had been minimal. For a full fledged escape, however, he’ll need to step things up a notch or ten.
Is Klaus actually ready for this?
Is he?
Why is he asking this now?
Why is he even thinking about this now?
Why does he trust his brother to do this? Why does he trust Five? Why does he trust the man who killed Dave?
A means to an end, you might say.
But Klaus can’t rationalize that, can he?
His heart is pounding; his blood is rushing in his ears.
There’s no time for questions, so there’s sure as hell not time for answers. He wets his lips, rocks on the balls of his feet. Across the cell, Five is in striking position.
There is more movement outside the door. The limp body is pulled away and they listen as the locking mechanism scrapes. The handle moves, imperceptibly at first, but then the door creaks open.
Five shakes his head, an implicit order to hold his ground, to wait. It’s a lead that Klaus follows, and he’s holding his breath as the door swings open with a whine of the hinge.
Klaus is ready to move, but it’s Five who is frozen to the spot. His brother’s face has gone hard, his eyes wide. It’s a few seconds later when Klaus finally figures out why.
As anticipated, there’s someone behind the door to check on them.
Not as anticipated, that person is adorned in a feminine trench coat with her gray hair styled in a neat bob. Her lips are painted red and the powder on her face almost covers the worst of her scars. She smiles.
“Hello, boys,” she says.
Five is fuming but he’s still standing like he’s been struck dumb. Klaus thinks about following through on the plan, but he’s not sure it would work without Five. No, scratch that, he knows it wouldn’t work.
The Handler smiles widely. “Looks like you’re finally ready to talk.”
-o-
It’s all very dramatic. It is.
Klaus is usually good with drama, but he is finding this situation increasingly disconcerting. It could be because this is a crazy lady who kidnapped him and kept him locked in a cell with the one sibling he absolutely can’t stand.
That’s the option Klaus deems more understandable.
The one that seems more palpable, however, is the unsettling reality of his murderous little brother, who has never been scared of anything, standing there like he’s scared shitless.
Because that’s what’s going on here.
That’s why Five’s frozen.
That’s why the plan has gone to absolute shit.
Five’s not just caught off guard.
Five’s scared.
Klaus can’t even make that computer.
Why is Five scared? When has Five ever been scared? This is Five. Five’s not scared. Five’s an assassin, the master of his own choices. Five’s in control.
Except, of course, when he’s not.
He’s not in control now.
Klaus doesn’t want to think about if he’s been in control of any of this.
Glancing anxiously between Five and the Handler, it becomes painfully obvious that it’s up to Klaus to make the decisions now. It’s his lead that they’re going to have to follow, and that’s screwed up and it’s probably going to be a disaster, but here they are.
Clearing his throat, he steps closer to Five out of instinct. His hands are up. “We do want to talk,” he says, and he makes an effort to keep his voice from wavering. He huffs with a breathless laugh. “Because, frankly, this service is unacceptable.” He nods around to the cell with an air of disgust. “We would formally like to lodge a complaint.”
She looks amused, actually. Or pleased. Possibly both. “Yes, well, I’m afraid that has rather been the point.”
She’s not even trying to deny it, which is either reassuring or terrifying. Klaus is too hyped up on adrenaline at this point to know. “Of course,” he says. “Because you obviously want to piss off two really dangerous and really pissed off people with superpowers. Makes total sense.”
She looks as if what he’s saying is absolutely adorable. Klaus steals a glance at Five, but his brother is still standing, lock knees, lips pressed thin. “You haven’t always been the most receptive audiences,” she explains, sounding like she’s making an apology without sounding remotely sorry. “We figured a little time might help you be more open to listening.”
Klaus inches closer still to his brother, hoping to encourage him out of his stock still position. “Well, okay, then,” he says, throwing his arms wide. He tries -- and fails -- to catch Five’s eye. “We’re listening.”
“No we,” she says. She tweaks her eyebrows, her gaze zeroed in on Klaus. “I mean, that is how you prefer it, don’t you? Given what your brother has done to you?”
Klaus’ throat tightens, and he tries not to let it jar him. The emotional response is real, but he can sense the level of manipulation being used. The problem is that it’s really damn effective. “Somehow, I would think that if you actually cared, you wouldn’t have locked me in a cell with him.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “It provides perspective, I hope,” she says. “So you understand the real benefit of the offer I’m about to make you.”
Klaus is expecting threats. He’s expecting pain and torture.
Instead, the Handler spreads her hands out quite amicably. “See, I want to give you the choice to walk out of this cell, right here, right now.”
Klaus looks to Five. His brother is pale; it’s not clear if he’s breathing at this point.
“You can go free,” the Handler says in grandiose fashion. “You’ll be able to live your life any time, any place.”
It’s a trap, Klaus thinks. He thinks, he thinks, he thinks. It has to be a trap. Doesn’t it? This is a trap.
These are killers and murderers who have tried to kill him.
And they also haven’t lied to him.
Klaus looks desperately at Five, hoping for any kind of affirmation or dissuasion.
“In fact, I’m prepared to sweeten the deal,” the Handler says warmly. “Walk out right now, make that choice, and we can bring Dave Katz back.”
All thoughts of protest, all thoughts of fighting, all thoughts of Five -- vanish. Logic dissipates. Klaus’ adrenaline turns to sludge in his veins. “What?” he asks.
The Handler nods earnestly. “It wouldn’t be a hard fix,” she says. “You can go live with him in the 1960s. Or, we can pull you both out, put you anywhere you like. Live a happy life with him in 2019. Go explore the past. The sky’s the limit, yours for the taking.”
It’s such a happy ending.
No, not a happy ending.
A perfect ending.
Shit, it’s the only ending he’s ever wanted.
Dave.
All this time, all this loss, all this everything.
Klaus wants it so bad it hurts, it actually hurts.
“Just make the choice,” the Handler almost coaches with a sweet smile. “One simple choice.”
Go figure, now’s the time that Five decides to remember that he’s alive. He shakes his head, voice raw and rough when he speaks. “It’s a trick,” he says. “Klaus, you know it’s a trick.”
Klaus looks at Five, but his focus has been torn now. “You said it yourself, they’re not liars--”
“Because they use the truth against you,” Five says.
“No, just against you,” Klaus says. “It’s not their fault you killed Dave.”
Five’s jaw works. “They gave the orders,” he says. “And they sent you the intel. And now they’re offering you a choice? It’s not a choice, not really.”
“Oh, like the choice you gave me?” Klaus volleys back. “Where you told me I could kill you or let you go? That choice?”
“I meant that,” Five says.
“Which is how it ended up like this?” Klaus asks. “Is this what you meant?”
Five shakes his head, and he grits his teeth now. “Mistakes are one thing,” he says. “Willingly trusting the enemy--”
Klaus laughs. He has to laugh. “You’re the one who pulled the trigger!” he says. “You’re the reason we’re here, aren’t you?”
The color has more than drained from Five’s face now. His complexion is almost translucent, his eyes piercingly sharp as he stares Klaus down. “You can’t make the same mistake I made,” he says. “The Commission is using you.”
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Klaus steps back this time, his throat feeling tight. “They can bring back Dave.”
“At what price?” Five asks. He turns to the Handler, suddenly galvanized. “At what price?”
She shrugs diffidently, but Klaus isn’t interested. His eyes narrow on Five. “Does it matter?” he asks. “You stole Dave; they can give him back.”
“But you have to ask what you’re willing to pay for that,” Five says. “They’re not making this offer without knowing what’s in it for them.”
“And what about me?” Klaus demands. “Do you hate me that much? What about me, Five? Do you ever stop and think about that?”
“Every day,” Five growls. He steps toward Klaus. “Remember the plan--”
Klaus holds up his arms and steps back again. “Your plan? When has your plan ever worked?”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Five says. “The world didn’t end--”
“Mine did!” Klaus explodes. “Mine did!”
Five’s mouth closes.
Klaus looks back to the Handler, and he knows the decision is made. “Fine,” he says, and he’s done thinking about it. He’s done thinking about everything. He’s just done. “You have a deal.”
There is satisfaction that glints in her eyes. “Wonderful,” she says. She raises her hand and snaps her fingers. “A few minor details to attend to, first.”
Before Klaus knows what’s happening, two guards come in. He tenses, but they sweep past him entirely. Five doesn’t fight as they take him by the arms, forcibly dragging him toward the door. There’s a look of warning in his eyes, but he says nothing, and Klaus feels something hollow in the pit of his stomach. “Where are you taking him?”
“Does it matter?” the Handler asks. “He’s not going to get in your way again.”
Klaus doesn’t flinch; he can’t flinch. This is his choice, his.
“Now,” the Handler says, taking a few steps closer to him. “As to the issue at hand. Logistically, things will require a little finesse. Time travel, I’m sure you understand. It’s not so simple.”
“Okay,” Klaus says slowly, for the lack of something better to say.
“This kind of correction is, of course, outside our normal operating procedures,” the Handler continues. “We are going to need a few safeguards in place. You know, to protect the sanctity of the time-space continuum.”
Klaus, honestly, has no idea what she’s talking about. It actually feels like he could be high, for as surreal as it is. Or maybe he just wishes he was.
“We’ll need a token, perhaps,” the Handler says. “Something to tie you back to that point in time. Something to ground the process, to connect back to Mr. Katz.”
Klaus stares at her blankly for another minute longer. For all his righteous anger, he’s out of ideas now.
She presses her lips together with a patient smile. She holds out her hand and nods at him with restraint expectation. “The dog tags, perhaps?”
This time, Klaus does flinch. Instinctively, his hand goes up, clutching at the tags. He’s worn them since he left Vietnam. He’s worn them as a constant reminder. Of Dave. Of the person he’d been. Of the best time of his life. Of the best version of himself.
He’s not taken them off. Not when the world ended. Not when it didn’t. Not when he was sober, and not when he was drunk. They were a part of him.
The Handler’s expression is completely professional, hand still outstretched expectantly. “It’s a small, but necessary sacrifice,” she says, as if to assure him. “One last thing before you get everything you want.”
The choice is made, he reminds himself. The choice is made.
His fingers clutch tighter around it, pulling off the dog tags over his head. He reaches out, letting them dangle over the Handler’s waiting hand. He lingers, feeling the familiar metal, before he finally lets it go.
It falls, crumpling into her hand.
She closes her fingers around the tags, pulling them back. “Excellent,” she says. “You made the right choice, Klaus. I promise you that.”
That’s reassuring, or it should be.
It’s just that Klaus realizes, rather belatedly, that he has no idea what choice that is.