Umbrella Academy fic: Changing All the Scenery (19/20)
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
NINETEEN
Klaus has made his choice.
Now it’s up to Five to keep his promise.
The apocalypse, the Commission: somehow this is the most important task yet.
-o-
Five stays.
He has no plan in this, no purpose whatsoever. Just one simple invective.
To stay.
No calculations, no probabilities, no missions.
Just staying.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus’ withdrawal becomes problematic.
It’s not acute withdrawal, because Klaus has been sober long enough that the drugs and alcohol and everything else are completely out of his system. There’s no medical risk. No shakes, no tremors, no palpitations or anything of the like. This clinical analysis, however, does little to capture the struggles an addict actually faces on a day to day basis.
For this, Fie is here.
He doesn’t sleep much as it is -- he’s too young, too old, too something -- and he’s developed a habit of waking at the slightest of disturbances. You can attribute this to the apocalypse, if you like. Being the lone survivor in the wake of the human race has certain emotional ramifications.
At any rate, he hears when there is someone awake in the house at night.
It is sometimes Diego, coming in late from some ridiculous foray into vigilantism. From time to time, he’ll catch Luther and Allison sneaking around, as if they’re trying to fool someone for some reason. Vanya is an infrequent cause, and when she wakes, it’s usually with screams.
No, usually it is Klaus who wakes him. He waits in his bed when he hears, listening. Klaus likes to make midnight jaunts to the kitchen, and he uses the bathroom for what seems to be the sheer sake of having a reason to be up. Five listens to his shuffling footsteps, lying awake until his brother shuffles back to bed and they both can sleep.
Not tonight, however.
When minutes pass, Five grows anxious. After nearly half an hour, he gives up the pretense of sleep and gets up. Pulling on his rob, he makes his way down the stairs. He finds Klaus in the living room. There is an open box of Oreos on the coffee table, crumbs all over the couch. Klaus is perched there, sitting on the edge, hunched over tautly.
Cautiously, Five steps around. “Klaus?” he asks.
Klaus shudders, but he doesn’t seem surprised. He doesn’t look up. “I was thinking,” he murmurs instead, pausing to bounce his knee for a minute. “I was thinking that the night is a long, long time.”
“Not that long,” Five tells him, and he decides that truth is subjective.
Klaus looks up at him. His face is pale. He wets his lips. “It is,” he says. “So, I thought maybe tonight -- just tonight -- I don’t bother. Tonight, I kick back a little. I’ve been good--”
Five is already shaking his head.
Klaus expression turns almost to pleading. “I’ve been so good,” he says. “Just a little indulgence. Something small. Just for tonight.”
Five sighs. “Klaus, you know that’s not a good idea.”
Klaus inhales gruffly with a tinge of hysteria. “So? All of your ideas are stupid. What do you know about it anyway? Your idea of a good time is hanging out with a mannequin. A mannequin. Your opinion isn’t worth anything.”
It’s a low blow to bring in Delores, especially in this context, but Five knows Klaus could have gone lower. “Klaus,” Five says again, slowly and deliberately. “You made a choice.”
“Oh, whatever!” Klaus says, and he sits back now in apparent disgust. “I changed my mind. I can change my mind, can’t I? People can change their minds?”
Ruefully, this time Five smiles. “I certainly hope so.”
Klaus doesn’t pick up on the implications, but Five can’t fault him for that. “So I’m changing mine!” he says, voice rising now. It echoes off the cavernous walls. “I’m changing my mind!”
If Klaus is going for intimidation, it’s not going to work. If Klaus is going for pity, that’s not going to play either. See, Five has never liked Klaus’ addiction. At first, he had trouble understanding it. But Klaus has taught him that people are more than their worst mistakes. If the truth applies to Five, then it must apply to Klaus as well. This truth, Five decides, is not subjective.
“Okay,” Five says. “If that’s what you want, what you really want, we’ll go find you something in the morning.”
It’s not the answer that Klaus expects. He sits there, confused for a long moment. “What?”
Five shrugs, more easily than before. He knows when his brother is thinking clearly, he tends to make the right decision. He’s not thinking clearly now. Five doesn’t want to deprive him of his choice -- and he doesn’t want Klaus to deprive himself of that choice either.
He sits down next to his brother uninvited, brushing away stray cookie crumbs in the process. “It’s not a choice to be made lightly. So, we take tonight. We think it through. If you want me to run the probabilities for you, I’d be happy to do that,” he offers. “And then, in the morning, if drugs are still what you want, then okay. We’ll do this.”
Klaus is still staring at him. He looks as though he’s not certain if he’s already taken the drugs or not. “Is this a trick?” he asks. “Or am I having a medical event here? Should we be going to the hospital.”
“No tricks, no medical events,” Five tells him simply. “You’re the one who reminded me that you can’t make a good decision if you don’t know all the facts. Otherwise, you might make a choice that ruins your life -- and the lives of everyone around you.”
They both know what he’s talking about.
Five’s talking about himself.
And Five’s talking about Klaus.
Klaus narrows his eyes. “This is a trick.”
Five shrugs, and he’s not quite sorry but he still is a little. “Not all choices are fair, unfortunately.”
Klaus groans, closing his eyes and flopping back on the couch. “Bastard.”
Five, though, only grins. He knows from experience that there are worst reasons to be called a bastard.
As it is, Five is still there, on that couch, when morning comes.
So is Klaus.
Apparently, they’re not going anywhere.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus starts his training again.
To be fair, they all technically stay. As the Umbrella Academy, they have a vested interest in each other’s powers, but group training sessions at this stage are nothing short of disastrous. Vanya still has ebbs and flows and her control is tenuous. Diego and Luther, while agreed that they want to work together, have no idea how to actually work together. Allison bolts every time the phone calls, and Ben’s not corporeal enough to participate.
Therefore, Five stays when Klaus starts training on his own again.
Klaus is somewhat less than grateful. “What part of training by myself is so hard to get?” he whines. “I was going to train. By myself!”
Five levels him with a tired look. “You were knitting.”
“So?” Klaus says. “Maybe knitting is the key to unlocking my powers again?”
“Were the needles levitating?” Five asks.
“No--”
“Did you conjure someone who could at least make a scarf?” Five asks.
“No, but--”
“But then you need help,” Five says. “So I’m here to help.”
Klaus, a fully grown man, somehow make a face that makes him like a toddler who has gone without his nap. “You think I need a babysitter!”
Appearances aside, Five has no intention of playing a housemaid. “I’m not babysitting you.”
Klaus is unimpressed and unconvinced. “Then what do you call it?”
“As I said,” Five replies. “Helping.”
Klaus glowers at him and throws a knitting needle his way. It misses him by a ways. “Well, don’t!” he snaps, as if this childish outburst can save something of what he might imagine to be dignity. Five’s not sure, but he thinks Klaus may view it that way. “I mean, I’m all for doing my part here, playing a role in the family business. I support it, right? This Umbrella Academy shit? Cool, I’m down. Because I know the family needs me, it needs all of us. And there’s no time -- there’s no space -- for my emotional instability. I mean, how can we deal with those when everyone else has got enough to worry about?”
There’s validity to that. Five knows that the rest of his siblings have plenty to work through, and he has tried in various ways to provide support for all of them. He also know, however, that he carries a different responsibility when it comes to Klaus.
As in, he killed Klaus’ lover and sent him in an emotional spiral that spans decades.
So Five owes him this.
Five owes him everything.
“You’re not emotionally unstable,” Five says, and he’s not lying. He’s not fibbing or being creative with a subjective version of the truth. He’s absolutely not.
Klaus plainly does not believe him. “Uh, yeah. I am.”
Five rolls his eyes in concession. So the truth may have been mildly subjective. Some truths are necessarily. “Well, fine,” he says. “But that’s not your problem.”
Klaus, though clearly wide awake, looks absolutely exhausted. He slumps back, hands over his head as he sprawls against the couch. “Then tell me what my problem is, then, oh wise one?”
“You just need to relax,” Five says, foregoing the theatrics. “You’ve got all these expectations and they’re not just unrealistics, they’re unnecessary.”
Klaus raises his eyebrows. “I have expectations? What about everyone else,” he says. “The Umbrella Academy! The quintessential crime fighting team! This whole family, this whole gig, this thing that we do, it’s nothing but an endless list of unrealistic and unnecessary expectations!”
There’s some sympathy to be had here, and Five knows it. They had all suffered under their father’s parentage, each in different ways. Five had been belligerent and overconfident. Klaus had retreated, throwing up as many emotional and artificial barriers as he could between himself and his family’s expectations. Expectations had led Five to get trapped in the future. They had pushed Klaus into addictions. This is not an area to be cavalier.
But it’s also not the same as it was, and Five refuses to pretend that it is.
Worse, letting Klaus pretend that is will keep him stuck in this pattern.
“There are expectations, you’re right,” Five says. “But they’re not as crazy as you’re making them out to be. No one cares about how good you are in the field. No one is measuring your worth by your viability fighting crime. The only expectation is that you’re here. You’re part of us. They just want you to be happy, healthy, safe. They want you to be you, the best possible version of you.”
Klaus makes a face. “But why would anyone actually want that? Have you met me? The real me?”
“Of course,” Five says. “You could be the most powerful one here.”
Klaus expression falls.
Five quickly corrects his mistake. “And you’re good. And not with powers. Just you,” he says, a little hastily as he feels his cheeks redden. “You’re a good person. Among the best of us.”
Emotion might seem like a foreign thing to him, but this isn’t even an emotional declaration. As far as Five is concerned, it’s simple fact. And fine, it’s not the way they normally talk, but Five’s grown old by himself already and, quite frankly, it sucks. If he can try it with family this time, then what the hell? He might as well spare a few well placed truths.
It’s Klaus, somehow, who looks uncomfortable with it. Maybe it’s weird to have someone tell you you’re a good person after you ask them to go get drugs. Maybe it’s just weird to have the person telling you that be the person who ruined your life.
Maybe it’s just weird.
But really, how is this surprising?
Everything about them is weird.
“So?” is what Klaus finally manages to say, half mumbling the words from his slack position on the couch. “What does that have to do with anything anyway?”
Five snorts. “It has everything to do with it.”
Klaus groans, throwing his head back in misery. He has no half baked denials this time. “But you don’t understand. Drugs are just so much easier,” he whines. “I can’t do this without them.”
Five’s gaze is unequivocal. “You can.”
Klaus opens his eyes again, the pretenses gone. Five’s the one who is 13, but Klaus looks younger still. “How do you know?” he asks. “I mean, honestly? How do you know because I sure as hell haven’t got a clue.”
“Well, I’ve spent a lifetime knowing,” he says. “You can’t survive an apocalypse, you can’t make it through time traveling as an assassin without knowing which things in life are inalienable. Which things in life are true, uncompromising. You have to define those things in order to play fast and loose with the rest.”
Klaus stares at him, face dawning to what you might call reluctant awareness. “You say that and it sounds good, but...I don’t know.”
“I do,” Five says. “I know it, and I believe in you. And fine, you can’t trust yourself in this context, then that’s fine. Don’t trust yourself. But trust me. Not in everything, but in this. Trust me in this because I’m not lying to you.”
Klaus wets his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is almost impossibly small. “And you think that’s enough?”
“It can’t hurt,” Five says. “So we may as well just run with it.”
Klaus grunts with a small roll of his eyes. “Run with it, yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” Five says. He holds out his hands, gesturing. “Pick me up.”
Klaus gives his a quizzical look. “Pick you up?”
Five does his best not to sigh. Exasperation may be warranted right now, but it also won’t be helpful. “Not with your hands, dumb ass,” he says. He tips his head with meaning. “Pick me up.”
“Oh,” Klaus says, blinking a few times. Then, he nods. “Oh!” His look of realization dims to concern. “Are you sure?”
That’s funny to ask Five that now. He’s pretty far along in this shit to be second guessing anything. “Yes,” he replies. “I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Klaus says, and he gathers a breath. He holds it, lips pressed together as his eyebrows start to tremble. He focuses, his concentration building. There’s a rumble, some subtle shifting in the air, and Five can feel it flutter across his skin. It encircles him, and the pressure on his skin is like a chilled rush of air. He inhales and holds the breath, stilling himself to be entirely pliant.
Klaus grimaces, his focus deepening. There are visible signs of it now, a light aura that shimmers around him.
With a shudder, Klaus tightens his fingers into fists. His expression tightens and his gaze narrows. There’s a burst of energy between them, and Five feels his feet lift off the ground. He hovers, his toes almost scraping the floor, and he does his best not to move as Klaus struggles to hold the position. Five jerks up a little more, his position tenuous. He swallows back any trepidation a split second before the hold is lost, and Five is sent back to the ground.
It’s a short distance, and though Five is off balance, he doesn’t fall. He steadies himself as Klaus lets out a short, aggravated yelp of frustration.
“See!” he says, pulling his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “See! I can’t do it! I can’t!”
Five exhales as patiently as he can. “Should I remind you how many years it took me to get back to 2019 and how I still screwed it up?” he asks candidly. “You’ll get there. You just need to focus and try again.”
“But I am trying, I have tried,” Klaus implores him. “I’ve been trying my whole life.”
“You deal with the ethereal,” Five coaches him. “Spirits and the unknown. You need something physical to channel it, something you can hold.”
Klaus makes a face. “What, you think I should carry around Mr. Snuffy and see if he helps?”
“No, not that,” Five says. He frowns thinking. Then, he snaps his fingers. “The dog tags. Where are Dave’s dog tags?”
Klaus has been coping reasonably well, but most of the time, they all avoid talking about Dave unless Klaus mentions him first. Klaus shies away slightly, the color draining just so from his face. “Why does that matter?”
“Because it’s an emotional focal point,” Five says, as he mentally calculates the odds of success from this approach. The odds are high; very high. Five feels his anticipation start to build. “It’s something that can direct you, something so important to you that it cuts through all the distractions. It’s clarity, through all of time and space. A ground force for an ethereal power.”
It’s about as passionate as Five can be, and the enthusiasm only makes Klaus more wary. He doesn’t, however, disagree. With some reluctance, he goes to the bedside tables. He spares Five a skeptical look before opening it, retrieving the dog tags from where they have been carefully placed in the drawer. “Okay,” he says, turning back toward Five expectantly as he holds them in his hands. “So now what?”
This seems like it should be self explanatory, but Klaus has always liked to be coddled. Five will indulge him, all things considered.
Five will always indulge him, all things considered.
“Now, you try again,” Five says with a deliberate motion of his hand. He points to himself. “Lift me up.”
Klaus, though overtly dubious, is more willing to play along than he would have one believe. They all want to do the right thing; they always have. That, more than the haunting of the spirits, is largely why Klaus turned so fully to addiction. Being haunted by spirits was one thing. Being haunted by the persistent sense of failure left by their father was entirely another.
Their father is dead, however. And Klaus is clean. There is nothing -- and no one -- that should stop them now.
The energy builds faster this time with more determination. Five feels it ripple, burgeoning around him with a newfound steadiness. Klaus’ face wavers, and Five feels the doubt. He grits his teeth and Klaus bears down, fingers clasping tighter still around the dog tags.
There’s a surge then, sudden and strong, and Five is levered off the ground. He goes up and down precariously for a moment, and there’s a hesitation in which he has to hold his breath, bracing for a possible impact.
The impact doesn’t come.
Instead, Klaus inhales and finds it with certainty. His expression shifts, moving from concentration to clarity. The power flows from him now, undulating instead of pulsating, finding a steady rhythm like waves against the seashore.
Stonger than you think.
Definitive by its nature.
Inevitable.
Five is lifted higher now, sliding up into the air between the floor and the ceiling. He can look down now at his feet above the floor as Klaus lifts him up and up. It’s mere seconds and Five’s hovering just shy of the ceiling.
Klaus looks up at him, and Five looks back.
They’ve seen a lot of each other over the last few weeks, but this?
This may be the first time they’ve actually seen each other.
Not the mistakes, not the disappointments, not the mistakes.
Not the regrets, not the explanations, not the explanations.
Just two brothers who, despite the odds, may actually be better together.
Five laughs first, the sound almost painfully unfamiliar. It’s so unexpected that Klaus laughs, too, and his concentration is broken.
Five, held by Klaus’ focus, is dropped, hard and fast to the ground.
The impact, needless to say, is jarring His vision goes dark for a moment, as he feels the reverberation of impact travel through his body.
“Sorry! Shit! I’m sorry!” Klaus is saying.
Groaning, Five manages to open his eyes and clear his vision. He’s flopping back onto his ass with a grimace when he sees Klaus standing above him.
His brother is holding out a hand.
He shrugs with a note of apology in his voice. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I swear, that was an accident. This time, I really didn’t mean to drop you.”
Five accepts his hand, letting Klaus help him get slowly to his feet. It is remarkable how young bones can feel so old. He cranes his neck to look up at the ceiling. It’s just as far as he remembers. “You sure about that?” he quips.
Klaus rocks back on his heels. His lips twitch, but his eyes are happy. “Well, mostly.”
Five rolls his eyes.
But Five stays longer, long enough for Klaus to drop him two, three, four times.
And long enough for Klaus to help him up again.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus decides it’s time.
Time to conjure Dave, that is.
What other time is there that matters?
-o-
Five stays when Klaus tearfully explains all the reasons he can’t conjure Dave, that he’s not ready, that he’s scared, that he won’t know what to say, that he doesn’t deserve to see that beautiful face again.
Five stays when Klaus insists that he has to, that he has to make peace, that he owes Dave an explanation, that he will never forgive himself if he doesn’t do this, if he doesn’t do this now.
Five stays when Klaus clears out the attic, locks the doors. He holds the dog tags, looking anxiously at Five for approval.
“You have to remember that for Dave, nothing has changed,” Five reminds him. “He has no idea what you had to do.”
“Which is why I have to tell him,” Klaus frets. He looks guiltily at the dog tags. “I have to have my secret identity revealed.”
Five smiles and pats him on the arm. “It’s shitty, I won’t lie,” he says. “But it’s not always as bad as you think it is, not always in the long run.”
Klaus nods, watery and grateful and gets to work.
-o-
Five stays throughout the conjuring. He stays when Dave appears, light and airy. He stays when Klaus tearfully confesses everything, everything and everything in halted, horrible sentences that are nearly drowned by the sobs. He’s there the first time Klaus apologizes, the second time, the third time. He’s there when Klaus falls to his knees, sobbing into the vacant space where Dave might be.
He stays when Klaus is too weak to hold the connection. He stays when Dave fades away before he can offer any kind of solace. He stays when Dave dissolves, when Klaus dissolves.
Five stays because history is easy to forget. History is something that passes, that slips through your fingers. History is something you can’t quantify, you can only witness. You have to hold to history, its good and its bad. You have to stay.
That’s what makes the difference. That’s the only thing that makes a difference in a world where nothing is constant and everything is temporary.
You just have to stay.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus cries. He cries and he cries and he cries. Five sits on the floor next to him, then he curls up beside him. When the sobs taper off, Klaus stares vacantly at the wall, and Five stays then, too.
He stays and he wraps himself around his brother. He stays and he whispers into the wisps of hair, across his tear stained cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.”
It’s an apology that will never cover enough, but it’s long overdue.
-o-
Mostly, Five just stays.
That matters, he decides. You have to stay for the worst.
That’s the only way you can be there for the best.
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
NINETEEN
Klaus has made his choice.
Now it’s up to Five to keep his promise.
The apocalypse, the Commission: somehow this is the most important task yet.
-o-
Five stays.
He has no plan in this, no purpose whatsoever. Just one simple invective.
To stay.
No calculations, no probabilities, no missions.
Just staying.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus’ withdrawal becomes problematic.
It’s not acute withdrawal, because Klaus has been sober long enough that the drugs and alcohol and everything else are completely out of his system. There’s no medical risk. No shakes, no tremors, no palpitations or anything of the like. This clinical analysis, however, does little to capture the struggles an addict actually faces on a day to day basis.
For this, Fie is here.
He doesn’t sleep much as it is -- he’s too young, too old, too something -- and he’s developed a habit of waking at the slightest of disturbances. You can attribute this to the apocalypse, if you like. Being the lone survivor in the wake of the human race has certain emotional ramifications.
At any rate, he hears when there is someone awake in the house at night.
It is sometimes Diego, coming in late from some ridiculous foray into vigilantism. From time to time, he’ll catch Luther and Allison sneaking around, as if they’re trying to fool someone for some reason. Vanya is an infrequent cause, and when she wakes, it’s usually with screams.
No, usually it is Klaus who wakes him. He waits in his bed when he hears, listening. Klaus likes to make midnight jaunts to the kitchen, and he uses the bathroom for what seems to be the sheer sake of having a reason to be up. Five listens to his shuffling footsteps, lying awake until his brother shuffles back to bed and they both can sleep.
Not tonight, however.
When minutes pass, Five grows anxious. After nearly half an hour, he gives up the pretense of sleep and gets up. Pulling on his rob, he makes his way down the stairs. He finds Klaus in the living room. There is an open box of Oreos on the coffee table, crumbs all over the couch. Klaus is perched there, sitting on the edge, hunched over tautly.
Cautiously, Five steps around. “Klaus?” he asks.
Klaus shudders, but he doesn’t seem surprised. He doesn’t look up. “I was thinking,” he murmurs instead, pausing to bounce his knee for a minute. “I was thinking that the night is a long, long time.”
“Not that long,” Five tells him, and he decides that truth is subjective.
Klaus looks up at him. His face is pale. He wets his lips. “It is,” he says. “So, I thought maybe tonight -- just tonight -- I don’t bother. Tonight, I kick back a little. I’ve been good--”
Five is already shaking his head.
Klaus expression turns almost to pleading. “I’ve been so good,” he says. “Just a little indulgence. Something small. Just for tonight.”
Five sighs. “Klaus, you know that’s not a good idea.”
Klaus inhales gruffly with a tinge of hysteria. “So? All of your ideas are stupid. What do you know about it anyway? Your idea of a good time is hanging out with a mannequin. A mannequin. Your opinion isn’t worth anything.”
It’s a low blow to bring in Delores, especially in this context, but Five knows Klaus could have gone lower. “Klaus,” Five says again, slowly and deliberately. “You made a choice.”
“Oh, whatever!” Klaus says, and he sits back now in apparent disgust. “I changed my mind. I can change my mind, can’t I? People can change their minds?”
Ruefully, this time Five smiles. “I certainly hope so.”
Klaus doesn’t pick up on the implications, but Five can’t fault him for that. “So I’m changing mine!” he says, voice rising now. It echoes off the cavernous walls. “I’m changing my mind!”
If Klaus is going for intimidation, it’s not going to work. If Klaus is going for pity, that’s not going to play either. See, Five has never liked Klaus’ addiction. At first, he had trouble understanding it. But Klaus has taught him that people are more than their worst mistakes. If the truth applies to Five, then it must apply to Klaus as well. This truth, Five decides, is not subjective.
“Okay,” Five says. “If that’s what you want, what you really want, we’ll go find you something in the morning.”
It’s not the answer that Klaus expects. He sits there, confused for a long moment. “What?”
Five shrugs, more easily than before. He knows when his brother is thinking clearly, he tends to make the right decision. He’s not thinking clearly now. Five doesn’t want to deprive him of his choice -- and he doesn’t want Klaus to deprive himself of that choice either.
He sits down next to his brother uninvited, brushing away stray cookie crumbs in the process. “It’s not a choice to be made lightly. So, we take tonight. We think it through. If you want me to run the probabilities for you, I’d be happy to do that,” he offers. “And then, in the morning, if drugs are still what you want, then okay. We’ll do this.”
Klaus is still staring at him. He looks as though he’s not certain if he’s already taken the drugs or not. “Is this a trick?” he asks. “Or am I having a medical event here? Should we be going to the hospital.”
“No tricks, no medical events,” Five tells him simply. “You’re the one who reminded me that you can’t make a good decision if you don’t know all the facts. Otherwise, you might make a choice that ruins your life -- and the lives of everyone around you.”
They both know what he’s talking about.
Five’s talking about himself.
And Five’s talking about Klaus.
Klaus narrows his eyes. “This is a trick.”
Five shrugs, and he’s not quite sorry but he still is a little. “Not all choices are fair, unfortunately.”
Klaus groans, closing his eyes and flopping back on the couch. “Bastard.”
Five, though, only grins. He knows from experience that there are worst reasons to be called a bastard.
As it is, Five is still there, on that couch, when morning comes.
So is Klaus.
Apparently, they’re not going anywhere.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus starts his training again.
To be fair, they all technically stay. As the Umbrella Academy, they have a vested interest in each other’s powers, but group training sessions at this stage are nothing short of disastrous. Vanya still has ebbs and flows and her control is tenuous. Diego and Luther, while agreed that they want to work together, have no idea how to actually work together. Allison bolts every time the phone calls, and Ben’s not corporeal enough to participate.
Therefore, Five stays when Klaus starts training on his own again.
Klaus is somewhat less than grateful. “What part of training by myself is so hard to get?” he whines. “I was going to train. By myself!”
Five levels him with a tired look. “You were knitting.”
“So?” Klaus says. “Maybe knitting is the key to unlocking my powers again?”
“Were the needles levitating?” Five asks.
“No--”
“Did you conjure someone who could at least make a scarf?” Five asks.
“No, but--”
“But then you need help,” Five says. “So I’m here to help.”
Klaus, a fully grown man, somehow make a face that makes him like a toddler who has gone without his nap. “You think I need a babysitter!”
Appearances aside, Five has no intention of playing a housemaid. “I’m not babysitting you.”
Klaus is unimpressed and unconvinced. “Then what do you call it?”
“As I said,” Five replies. “Helping.”
Klaus glowers at him and throws a knitting needle his way. It misses him by a ways. “Well, don’t!” he snaps, as if this childish outburst can save something of what he might imagine to be dignity. Five’s not sure, but he thinks Klaus may view it that way. “I mean, I’m all for doing my part here, playing a role in the family business. I support it, right? This Umbrella Academy shit? Cool, I’m down. Because I know the family needs me, it needs all of us. And there’s no time -- there’s no space -- for my emotional instability. I mean, how can we deal with those when everyone else has got enough to worry about?”
There’s validity to that. Five knows that the rest of his siblings have plenty to work through, and he has tried in various ways to provide support for all of them. He also know, however, that he carries a different responsibility when it comes to Klaus.
As in, he killed Klaus’ lover and sent him in an emotional spiral that spans decades.
So Five owes him this.
Five owes him everything.
“You’re not emotionally unstable,” Five says, and he’s not lying. He’s not fibbing or being creative with a subjective version of the truth. He’s absolutely not.
Klaus plainly does not believe him. “Uh, yeah. I am.”
Five rolls his eyes in concession. So the truth may have been mildly subjective. Some truths are necessarily. “Well, fine,” he says. “But that’s not your problem.”
Klaus, though clearly wide awake, looks absolutely exhausted. He slumps back, hands over his head as he sprawls against the couch. “Then tell me what my problem is, then, oh wise one?”
“You just need to relax,” Five says, foregoing the theatrics. “You’ve got all these expectations and they’re not just unrealistics, they’re unnecessary.”
Klaus raises his eyebrows. “I have expectations? What about everyone else,” he says. “The Umbrella Academy! The quintessential crime fighting team! This whole family, this whole gig, this thing that we do, it’s nothing but an endless list of unrealistic and unnecessary expectations!”
There’s some sympathy to be had here, and Five knows it. They had all suffered under their father’s parentage, each in different ways. Five had been belligerent and overconfident. Klaus had retreated, throwing up as many emotional and artificial barriers as he could between himself and his family’s expectations. Expectations had led Five to get trapped in the future. They had pushed Klaus into addictions. This is not an area to be cavalier.
But it’s also not the same as it was, and Five refuses to pretend that it is.
Worse, letting Klaus pretend that is will keep him stuck in this pattern.
“There are expectations, you’re right,” Five says. “But they’re not as crazy as you’re making them out to be. No one cares about how good you are in the field. No one is measuring your worth by your viability fighting crime. The only expectation is that you’re here. You’re part of us. They just want you to be happy, healthy, safe. They want you to be you, the best possible version of you.”
Klaus makes a face. “But why would anyone actually want that? Have you met me? The real me?”
“Of course,” Five says. “You could be the most powerful one here.”
Klaus expression falls.
Five quickly corrects his mistake. “And you’re good. And not with powers. Just you,” he says, a little hastily as he feels his cheeks redden. “You’re a good person. Among the best of us.”
Emotion might seem like a foreign thing to him, but this isn’t even an emotional declaration. As far as Five is concerned, it’s simple fact. And fine, it’s not the way they normally talk, but Five’s grown old by himself already and, quite frankly, it sucks. If he can try it with family this time, then what the hell? He might as well spare a few well placed truths.
It’s Klaus, somehow, who looks uncomfortable with it. Maybe it’s weird to have someone tell you you’re a good person after you ask them to go get drugs. Maybe it’s just weird to have the person telling you that be the person who ruined your life.
Maybe it’s just weird.
But really, how is this surprising?
Everything about them is weird.
“So?” is what Klaus finally manages to say, half mumbling the words from his slack position on the couch. “What does that have to do with anything anyway?”
Five snorts. “It has everything to do with it.”
Klaus groans, throwing his head back in misery. He has no half baked denials this time. “But you don’t understand. Drugs are just so much easier,” he whines. “I can’t do this without them.”
Five’s gaze is unequivocal. “You can.”
Klaus opens his eyes again, the pretenses gone. Five’s the one who is 13, but Klaus looks younger still. “How do you know?” he asks. “I mean, honestly? How do you know because I sure as hell haven’t got a clue.”
“Well, I’ve spent a lifetime knowing,” he says. “You can’t survive an apocalypse, you can’t make it through time traveling as an assassin without knowing which things in life are inalienable. Which things in life are true, uncompromising. You have to define those things in order to play fast and loose with the rest.”
Klaus stares at him, face dawning to what you might call reluctant awareness. “You say that and it sounds good, but...I don’t know.”
“I do,” Five says. “I know it, and I believe in you. And fine, you can’t trust yourself in this context, then that’s fine. Don’t trust yourself. But trust me. Not in everything, but in this. Trust me in this because I’m not lying to you.”
Klaus wets his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is almost impossibly small. “And you think that’s enough?”
“It can’t hurt,” Five says. “So we may as well just run with it.”
Klaus grunts with a small roll of his eyes. “Run with it, yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” Five says. He holds out his hands, gesturing. “Pick me up.”
Klaus gives his a quizzical look. “Pick you up?”
Five does his best not to sigh. Exasperation may be warranted right now, but it also won’t be helpful. “Not with your hands, dumb ass,” he says. He tips his head with meaning. “Pick me up.”
“Oh,” Klaus says, blinking a few times. Then, he nods. “Oh!” His look of realization dims to concern. “Are you sure?”
That’s funny to ask Five that now. He’s pretty far along in this shit to be second guessing anything. “Yes,” he replies. “I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Klaus says, and he gathers a breath. He holds it, lips pressed together as his eyebrows start to tremble. He focuses, his concentration building. There’s a rumble, some subtle shifting in the air, and Five can feel it flutter across his skin. It encircles him, and the pressure on his skin is like a chilled rush of air. He inhales and holds the breath, stilling himself to be entirely pliant.
Klaus grimaces, his focus deepening. There are visible signs of it now, a light aura that shimmers around him.
With a shudder, Klaus tightens his fingers into fists. His expression tightens and his gaze narrows. There’s a burst of energy between them, and Five feels his feet lift off the ground. He hovers, his toes almost scraping the floor, and he does his best not to move as Klaus struggles to hold the position. Five jerks up a little more, his position tenuous. He swallows back any trepidation a split second before the hold is lost, and Five is sent back to the ground.
It’s a short distance, and though Five is off balance, he doesn’t fall. He steadies himself as Klaus lets out a short, aggravated yelp of frustration.
“See!” he says, pulling his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “See! I can’t do it! I can’t!”
Five exhales as patiently as he can. “Should I remind you how many years it took me to get back to 2019 and how I still screwed it up?” he asks candidly. “You’ll get there. You just need to focus and try again.”
“But I am trying, I have tried,” Klaus implores him. “I’ve been trying my whole life.”
“You deal with the ethereal,” Five coaches him. “Spirits and the unknown. You need something physical to channel it, something you can hold.”
Klaus makes a face. “What, you think I should carry around Mr. Snuffy and see if he helps?”
“No, not that,” Five says. He frowns thinking. Then, he snaps his fingers. “The dog tags. Where are Dave’s dog tags?”
Klaus has been coping reasonably well, but most of the time, they all avoid talking about Dave unless Klaus mentions him first. Klaus shies away slightly, the color draining just so from his face. “Why does that matter?”
“Because it’s an emotional focal point,” Five says, as he mentally calculates the odds of success from this approach. The odds are high; very high. Five feels his anticipation start to build. “It’s something that can direct you, something so important to you that it cuts through all the distractions. It’s clarity, through all of time and space. A ground force for an ethereal power.”
It’s about as passionate as Five can be, and the enthusiasm only makes Klaus more wary. He doesn’t, however, disagree. With some reluctance, he goes to the bedside tables. He spares Five a skeptical look before opening it, retrieving the dog tags from where they have been carefully placed in the drawer. “Okay,” he says, turning back toward Five expectantly as he holds them in his hands. “So now what?”
This seems like it should be self explanatory, but Klaus has always liked to be coddled. Five will indulge him, all things considered.
Five will always indulge him, all things considered.
“Now, you try again,” Five says with a deliberate motion of his hand. He points to himself. “Lift me up.”
Klaus, though overtly dubious, is more willing to play along than he would have one believe. They all want to do the right thing; they always have. That, more than the haunting of the spirits, is largely why Klaus turned so fully to addiction. Being haunted by spirits was one thing. Being haunted by the persistent sense of failure left by their father was entirely another.
Their father is dead, however. And Klaus is clean. There is nothing -- and no one -- that should stop them now.
The energy builds faster this time with more determination. Five feels it ripple, burgeoning around him with a newfound steadiness. Klaus’ face wavers, and Five feels the doubt. He grits his teeth and Klaus bears down, fingers clasping tighter still around the dog tags.
There’s a surge then, sudden and strong, and Five is levered off the ground. He goes up and down precariously for a moment, and there’s a hesitation in which he has to hold his breath, bracing for a possible impact.
The impact doesn’t come.
Instead, Klaus inhales and finds it with certainty. His expression shifts, moving from concentration to clarity. The power flows from him now, undulating instead of pulsating, finding a steady rhythm like waves against the seashore.
Stonger than you think.
Definitive by its nature.
Inevitable.
Five is lifted higher now, sliding up into the air between the floor and the ceiling. He can look down now at his feet above the floor as Klaus lifts him up and up. It’s mere seconds and Five’s hovering just shy of the ceiling.
Klaus looks up at him, and Five looks back.
They’ve seen a lot of each other over the last few weeks, but this?
This may be the first time they’ve actually seen each other.
Not the mistakes, not the disappointments, not the mistakes.
Not the regrets, not the explanations, not the explanations.
Just two brothers who, despite the odds, may actually be better together.
Five laughs first, the sound almost painfully unfamiliar. It’s so unexpected that Klaus laughs, too, and his concentration is broken.
Five, held by Klaus’ focus, is dropped, hard and fast to the ground.
The impact, needless to say, is jarring His vision goes dark for a moment, as he feels the reverberation of impact travel through his body.
“Sorry! Shit! I’m sorry!” Klaus is saying.
Groaning, Five manages to open his eyes and clear his vision. He’s flopping back onto his ass with a grimace when he sees Klaus standing above him.
His brother is holding out a hand.
He shrugs with a note of apology in his voice. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I swear, that was an accident. This time, I really didn’t mean to drop you.”
Five accepts his hand, letting Klaus help him get slowly to his feet. It is remarkable how young bones can feel so old. He cranes his neck to look up at the ceiling. It’s just as far as he remembers. “You sure about that?” he quips.
Klaus rocks back on his heels. His lips twitch, but his eyes are happy. “Well, mostly.”
Five rolls his eyes.
But Five stays longer, long enough for Klaus to drop him two, three, four times.
And long enough for Klaus to help him up again.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus decides it’s time.
Time to conjure Dave, that is.
What other time is there that matters?
-o-
Five stays when Klaus tearfully explains all the reasons he can’t conjure Dave, that he’s not ready, that he’s scared, that he won’t know what to say, that he doesn’t deserve to see that beautiful face again.
Five stays when Klaus insists that he has to, that he has to make peace, that he owes Dave an explanation, that he will never forgive himself if he doesn’t do this, if he doesn’t do this now.
Five stays when Klaus clears out the attic, locks the doors. He holds the dog tags, looking anxiously at Five for approval.
“You have to remember that for Dave, nothing has changed,” Five reminds him. “He has no idea what you had to do.”
“Which is why I have to tell him,” Klaus frets. He looks guiltily at the dog tags. “I have to have my secret identity revealed.”
Five smiles and pats him on the arm. “It’s shitty, I won’t lie,” he says. “But it’s not always as bad as you think it is, not always in the long run.”
Klaus nods, watery and grateful and gets to work.
-o-
Five stays throughout the conjuring. He stays when Dave appears, light and airy. He stays when Klaus tearfully confesses everything, everything and everything in halted, horrible sentences that are nearly drowned by the sobs. He’s there the first time Klaus apologizes, the second time, the third time. He’s there when Klaus falls to his knees, sobbing into the vacant space where Dave might be.
He stays when Klaus is too weak to hold the connection. He stays when Dave fades away before he can offer any kind of solace. He stays when Dave dissolves, when Klaus dissolves.
Five stays because history is easy to forget. History is something that passes, that slips through your fingers. History is something you can’t quantify, you can only witness. You have to hold to history, its good and its bad. You have to stay.
That’s what makes the difference. That’s the only thing that makes a difference in a world where nothing is constant and everything is temporary.
You just have to stay.
-o-
Five stays when Klaus cries. He cries and he cries and he cries. Five sits on the floor next to him, then he curls up beside him. When the sobs taper off, Klaus stares vacantly at the wall, and Five stays then, too.
He stays and he wraps himself around his brother. He stays and he whispers into the wisps of hair, across his tear stained cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.”
It’s an apology that will never cover enough, but it’s long overdue.
-o-
Mostly, Five just stays.
That matters, he decides. You have to stay for the worst.
That’s the only way you can be there for the best.