Umbrella Academy fic: The Best Version of Self
Title: The Best Version of Self
Disclaimer: I own nothing here.
A/N: Set a bit in the future after S1 with the assumption that they set everything right and restore their own timeline for the better. Fills my fire prompt for hc_bingo. Completely and horribly unbeta’ed.
Summary: Klaus discovers the full range of his powers after getting sober. It goes about as well as you expect.
-o-
Sober Klaus was a thing now.
Well, actually, more accurately, he was a person. Sure, it was arguable that Sober Klaus had always existed, but as a child, Sober Klaus had been sort of a default. When given the choice, he’d chosen Alcohol Klaus or Marijuana Klaus or finally Every Drug He Could Get His Hands on Klaus, i.e., in simpler terms, Addict Klaus.
And, for the record, Klaus believed that Addict Klaus was actually kind of fun. Sure, there was the whole part where he was constantly strung out on drugs and how he was irresponsible and made horrible decisions, but some of those decisions? Were, like, the best.
Addict Klaus sang the best karaoke. Addict Klaus could make excellent brownies. Addict Klaus could dance super well. Addict Klaus was funnier and more popular. Addict Klaus also didn’t talk to dead people, which was still just really, really nice.
Sadly, Addict Klaus couldn’t save the world. Addict Klaus wasn’t much good for the Umbrella Academy. And, fine, Addict Klaus was probably going to die before he was 40 so Sober Klaus was the better, more responsible choice.
That wasn’t to say that Klaus didn’t miss Addict Klaus.
But at least it was going to be an adventure figuring out who this Sober Klaus actually was.
-o-
Sober Klaus, he learned after three weeks of focused sobriety and training, could summon people at will. Seance Klaus was easily the most natural of his sober forms, but he realized that with focus he could pick and choose the spirits he had contact with most of the time. Sometimes, there would be a dead person who was a pain in the ass, Seance Klaus generally had control over who he talked to and when. It was kind of nice to realize he had the ability to turn it on and off. He no longer had to eat his breakfast with dead people if he didn’t want to.
After Seance Klaus, he had learned Conduit Klaus. For this, he and Ben worked together. A lot. It took about another two weeks after that for Conduit Klaus to function with any kind of predictability. But with practice and training, he was able to fully channel Ben whenever they damn well pleased, and that increased the viability of Conduit Klaus by, like, a lot.
“See?” Diego said. “I always told you to get sober.”
“Uh, yeah,” Klaus said. “Because you wanted to stop bailing me out of jail.”
“Well, okay,” Diego agreed. “But finding out just how powerful you are. That’s kind of nice, right?”
-o-
Klaus would concede. Yes, Conduit Klaus was kind of nice.
But Levitation Klaus?
Yeah, Klaus really liked Levitation Klaus?
He discovered that power about two months after getting sober. Yeah, two months! He knew that being sober would be a process, but no one had ever mentioned just how much persistence and patience sobriety would require.
No, scratch that. They did. That was why Klaus had never really bothered to do it before. Because persistence and patience? Addict Klaus had never been required to exhibit either of those things and he’d been so much happier for it.
The discovery was also entirely by accident. With Seance Klaus, he’d worked at it. He’d practiced hard with Conduit Klaus. But Levitation Klaus was random and unexpected. One day, during a particularly boring training session, he’d been dozing off. Sober Klaus was more committed to things, but he wasn’t some automaton or a saint. Training could be boring! He was half asleep, smiling his way through a Broadway production of Captain Underpants starring Brad Pitt as, get this, the toilet, when Allison’s voice shook him awake.
“Klaus, what the hell?”
He was about to ask her the same thing as he jolted out of the half-baked dream, but he was too busy crashing to the floor to get the words out.
She helped him sit up, and he groaned, moving gingerly. “Why did you drop kick me?”
Allison got him to a seated position and leaned down to look in his eyes. “I didn’t do this.”
“Then Luther--”
“There’s no one else here, Klaus,” she said, short and matter of fact. “Training is over. Everyone else has gone to lunch. I was going to wake you up to join us….”
She trailed off, cocking her head as if she wasn’t sure what to say next.
Klaus shrugged, pain radiating throughout his body. “And you thought it’d be fun to punch the shit out of me instead?”
“No,” Allison said. “I turned around and you were there, in the corner.”
“Yeah, that’s the best spot to sleep when Luther is all train harder!” Klaus explained. “The chair keeps you upright, makes you look like you’re deep in concentration.”
Allison narrowed her gaze, even more quizzical. “But you weren’t sitting on the chair,” she said.
It was his turn to give her a quizzical gaze in return. “What do you mean? Of course I was sitting on the chair.”
She shook her head. “You were floating, Klaus. You were sleeping and floating three inches above the chairs. Your feet were nowhere near the ground.”
Now, Allison was a liar. That was, like, her thing. She told lies. It wasn’t her fault that her superpower was simple deception. But her lies had purpose. They had motive.
Sitting in front of him, Klaus couldn’t figure out what her motive now might be.
Like, at all.
Unless the motive was the truth.
Unless Allison was telling him the truth.
“Klaus,” she said with a small rush of air. “I think you can levitate.”
That was ridiculous.
No, that was ludicrous. It was laughable, even. The most absolutely, undeniably stupid thing he had ever heard in his entire life.
Or, at least, in his two long months of sobriety.
Which meant.
Klaus eyes widened.
It was invariably true.
“I can levitate?” he asked, the disbelief turning to joyous aspiration.
Allison looked at him steadily. “You’re going to have to be more careful now.”
“Because I can levitate!”
“Because you can activate these new powers even while unconscious,” she said. “And your powers are still growing. Powers like this are going to require responsibility, control.”
Klaus clapped his hands, excitedly. “But I can levitate!”
He scrambled to his feet, throwing his arms around Allison in a hug. “Klaus--”
He let go and sprinted toward the door, yelling, “Hey, guys! It’s time to meet Levitation Klaus!”
-o-
The thing about Levitation Klaus was that Sober Klaus had no apparent control over him. Like, a few times, he managed to, like, hover off the ground, but that was only when, you know, jumping. He was sure he came down slower than normal, but no one else looked convinced.
Not that they didn’t believe him. Sober Klaus was credible in a way that Addict Klaus had never been, and Allison backed him up on it all. Levitation Klaus was a thing. A real, honest to goodness thing.
And if Klaus ever learned how to control him, then he was going to be super cool.
-o-
Ironically, he woke up a few nights later, levitating off his bed. At first he thought he was dreaming, because Sober Klaus still had wacky dreams, but after several seconds it occurred to him just how drafty the room was. About the time he realized that he was floating, he was then crashing to the ground.
Or bed this time.
Landing on a bed was a lot more comfortable than landing on the floor.
Still, Klaus found the whole thing disappointing, and Allison’s advice about power and responsibility rang in his ears.
Sober Klaus, however, conceded nothing.
-o-
Sober Klaus had been around three months.
That was a really long time.
Three whole months! No drugs! No alcohol! Not a single pill! Not even an Advil!
Seance Klaus was kicking ass. Conduit Klaus was very functional. Even Levitation Klaus was almost starting to make progress. Just the other day, Klaus floated his way down the stairs. Like, legit floated. For three steps anyway. Then he fell the rest of the way down, but for the record, still didn’t take Advil, so Sober Klaus is also kind of Rock Star Klaus, thank you very, very much.
If you thought that was where it end, then you would be wrong.
You would be so very wrong.
Because that was the day, as a matter of fact, that Klaus discovered Pyro Klaus.
-o-
For the record, Pyro Klaus was exactly who you thought he was. He was a dude -- smart, funny, nice, capable -- he just happened to be good with fire. It wasn’t that he liked fire or anything in particular. This wasn’t some kind of fixation. No, Pyro Klaus was just gifted with fire.
Literally.
He was gifted with the ability to make fire.
How could he be sure?
Because one day, while sparring with Luther, he randomly sort of maybe set the other man on fire?
Startled, Luther stepped back, staring at his blazing arm. Dumbfounded, he did nothing until Klaus dove at him. It did little to move the man -- Luther was twice his size, easily -- but the momentum brought Luther back to his senses. With Klaus help, they stopped, dropped and rolled, and within a minute, Luther’s charred sleeve and smoking arm hair was the only sign of what had happened.
Luther looked at his singed arm.
He looked at Klaus.
Klaus winced and looked back.
Still breathing heavy from the adrenaline, Luther finally asked, “Did you do that?”
“Yeah,” Klaus said. He attempted to smile. “Oops.”
Klaus had been trying to be helpful. His charming overture felt horribly flat, and Luther looked increasingly mortified. “You did that? You set me on fire?”
Klaus swallowed. “Well, would you believe it was possibly friction? You know, from our sparring session? Got a little overzealous, you know.”
Luther shook his head. “But you hadn’t touched me. We’d been dancing around each other for five minute.”
Klaus’ forced smile fell. “Yes, well, then,” he said. “I guess it’s possible I did that then.”
“You can create fire?” Luther asked, sincerely trying to clarify what they were dealing with here.
Klaus shrugged sheepishly. “Say hi to Pyro Klaus.”
Luther nodded, taking it surprisingly well. It was saying something that setting your brother on fire didn’t actually warrant much cause for concern. “Okay, then,” Luther said, ever practical and to the point. “Well, I guess we’ll work on it then, won’t we?”
-o-
Klaus appreciated that his siblings were supportive -- he did, he really did. Sober Klaus never could have done any of this without his siblings and their understanding and encouragement. They never would have met Seance Klaus or Conduit Klaus or Levitation Klaus or even this wacky Pyro Klaus. The thing was that supportive wasn’t just understanding and encouragement.
No, supportive was also work.
Because when Luther said they’d work on it, apparently he meant they’d work.
On it.
Like, a lot.
And how did you train Pyro Klaus?
Well, incidentally, you ended up burning a lot of shit.
For clarification purposes, when Klaus said a lot, he meant, like, basically everything. He burned books, he burned furniture, he burned food. The problem was, he never burned what he was supposed to burn on command. Sometimes, while trying to light a piece of paper on fire in the trash can, he set his father’s desk ablaze instead. Once, while knitting in the library, he set the books on fire. He managed to set fire to the kitchen while Mom was making dinner.
When Klaus was two floors above.
At the very least, Mom was programmed to fight fires.
Also, they didn’t actually care about Dad’s shit anyway.
Still, it wasn’t easy.
All the training.
“It’s okay,” Vanya told him. “You really are doing great.”
Klaus had just set her bed on fire so he wasn’t certain what her definition of great was.
“I mean, it’s work, but I get it,” she continued, just as enthusiastic as ever. Vanya, for all that her powers were overwhelming and terrifying, seemed to be taking to them quickly. She was born for it, and it was pretty clear she knew it. The fact that she could now destroy the world and all of them didn’t make her any less compassionate, though. “It just takes time.”
Time. In other words, patience and persistence.
“And there are lots of ups and downs,” she said, removing the smoldering sheets and throwing them into the hall.
“Uh, you don’t have ups and downs,” Klaus said, trying to see if the sheets were singed, too. “You just have ups. I mean, you’ve had superpowers for what? Three months? And you can already beat any of us in a fight.”
Vanya, in true Vanya form, blushed. “Sure,” she said. “But you’re forgetting about the part where I blew up the moon, remember?”
Even that was something she was learning to take in stride. She’d been shellshocked for about a week, but after that, she’d committed herself to training. To control. To responsibility.
Damn it, that wasn’t what this was about.
“Well, the spirit world is apparently a little less predictable,” he said, concluding that the sheets, though wet, were probably salvageable. “I mean, I’ve been sober three months and I’m still figuring out that I have new powers.”
“And that’s what makes it exciting, isn’t it?” Vanya asked, taking off the sopping sheets and putting them in a different pile. “There’s so much for us to discover. The possibilities!”
The thing about Vanya was that she meant it.
Dear, sweet Vanya, who had tried to kill them all.
She meant it.
And worse, she made it sound so very easy.
Like it wasn’t unpredictable and hard and scary and overwhelming. That was the thing about Sober Klaus. He could, on occasion, be very, very sober.
Vanya reached out, put a hand on his arm. “The point is that if I can do -- me, Vanya, Number Seven, then of course you can,” she said.
Klaus looked uncertainly at the water laden bed. “You really sure about that?”
Vanya let go of his arm and cheerfully went back to her bed, stripping it all the way down to the mattress. “Of course I am.”
Klaus helped her and shrugged. At least that made one of them.
-o-
Sober Klaus was powerful, but Sleeping Klaus was still, you know, sleepy and utterly useless. So he was in the middle of a particularly vivid dream involve elephant puppets and New Coke from the 1980s with a transgendered senator from Minnesota when something woke him up.
Someone.
Because dead people still counted as people, right?
With a groan, he flopped on his back and squinted up at Ben. “What pronoun do you prefer anyway?”
Ben shook his head, clearly not preferring any pronoun right now. “You have to wake up! Now!”
“Okay, okay,” Klaus mumbled, and he promptly flopped over on his face and tried to go back to sleep.
Ben, who was that much more annoying now that he could take corporeal form, shook him even more violently than before. As if to prove his point that yes, he was real, he warranted a he and not an it. “Klaus! Now!”
Klaus made a face. “What?” he asked, and then with a long suffering sigh he rolled on his back again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “What could possibly be so important?”
Ben was still shaking him, fingers locked on his shoulder now. “There’s a fire!”
That concern was….
A real concern.
Klaus removed his arm. He opened his eyes. Above him, Ben’s form was hazy but not because he was a ghost. No, he was hazy because there was smoke in the air.
“Shit,” Klaus said, scrambling out of bed. “I guess Fire Klaus is still around even when Sleeping Klaus is in control.”
“It could be a coincidence,” Ben said.
Klaus looked at him, incredulous. “A coincidence? That a fire starts exactly two days after I realize I have the ability to start fires?”
“It is an old house,” Ben argued.
“And I have powers that I can’t control that randomly activate when I’m sleeping, one of which is to make fire!” Klaus said. He got out of bed, squinting in the gloomy dark toward the door. “Do you know where it started?”
“Not exactly, but there’s a lot of smoke,” Ben said.
Klaus winced. “I guess Dad didn’t believe in smoke alarms.”
“We’ll have to work on that,” Ben said.
“Yeah, after we all not die,” Klaus muttered. “We need to get out of here.”
“What about everyone else?” Ben asked.
“You think you’re strong enough to wake them?” Klaus asked, glancing at his brother.
Ben shook his head. “You’re too stressed right now. You’re lucky I was able to wake you. I don’t think we’ll manage a projection right now.”
That was disconcerting. The time he was going to need Conduit Klaus and he was going to have to settle for Seance Klaus because Pyro Klaus was an asshole of epic proportions. Sober Klaus was losing control.
He shook his head.
Now was not the time for an identity crisis.
Now was the time to make sure he didn’t accidentally kill his siblings for a lack of responsibility and control and blah, blah, blah.
“Okay,” Klaus said. “Well, smoke rises, so we have to start on the top, right? Before things get too bad.”
Ben nodded along in agreement. “Five’s upstairs.”
Klaus was slipping into a pair of shoes, reaching for a dirty t-shirt to put over his mouth and nose as he approached the door. “Well, then,” he said, voice muffled by the cloth. “Here goes nothing.”
-o-
The thing about Sober Klaus was that he was aware of things. Like, aware aware. Addict Klaus had been willing to do anything because he had completely disassociated himself from actual risk. It was easy to nearly kill yourself when your grasp on reality was pretty sketchy. When you were sober -- stone cold sober, thank you very much -- reality was pretty hard to avoid.
And for the record, reality? Is terrifying.
Sober Klaus, however, didn’t have any choice. Unless Sober Klaus wanted to let Pyro Klaus kill everyone. The reality of almost dying was pretty bad. The reality of possibly losing his siblings, however, was not something he would be able to live with. It would kill Sober Klaus. Straight up, kill him. He’d be gone.
So Sober Klaus was going to save his siblings.
The hallway was clogged with smoke, but there was no sign of flames. Klaus kept the shirt up near his mouth, but he could still taste the smoke and soot on his tongue, coating the back of his throat. He was hacking by the time he got to the stairs, and he dropped low to climb up them one by one, squinting through his burning eyes. Ahead of him, he saw Ben.
“He’s still asleep! Hurry!” Ben called.
It wasn’t like Klaus needed additional motivation. The possibility that this might not be survivable was becoming increasingly poignant to Klaus, and he wished like hell that Pyro Klaus had bothered to learn some of Sober Klaus’ self control. It might have helped.
No matter. Klaus hit the landing at the top of the stairs. The smoke, as was to be expected, was even thicker up here. It made it hard to see, and Klaus didn’t dare get to his feet. He felt it way along, padding with his hands. “Where’s the fire anyway?” he choked out to Ben.
In the smog, Ben looked increasingly hazy. “I haven’t found it yet. But it doesn’t feel hot. Could be in the walls.”
Klaus pressed the shirt to his face even tighter, like that was going to help. “That sounds super fun,” he said, trying to feel his way to a doorframe. “I”ll have to work on my aim.”
“Let’s start with not starting random fires!” Ben called back to him. “Over here! To your right!”
Klaus followed the instructions as best he could before finally finding a door. He felt up blindly, unable to see much of anything, and he fumbled for the doorknob. To his relief, the door swung open easily, and Klaus rolled inside along with billows of dark smoke.
It was a sudden entrance, but the closed door had kept the room marginally clearer of the smoke. With the increased range of vision, Klaus scrambled to his feet, rushing toward Five’s bedside.
“Five, wake up,” he said, reaching down to shake his brother’s shoulder. “Five--”
He was about to tell him there was a fire, that they needed to go, but the words didn’t come. Because upon the touch, Five sprang out of bed. Small as he was, he all but tackled Klaus. They both hit the floor and Klaus saw stars as Five beared down on him with a snarl, pressing a hand viciously against his throat.
Klaus did a mental check of shitty ways to die. Burning to death in a fire of your own making was bad. Getting strangled by your sleep deprived older/younger brother while trying to save his life was not decidedly worse, but it was still pretty bad, too. Kind of a tossup. You know, since dying in general was kind of not what Klaus was going for anymore.
He wondered, ironically, if Dead Klaus could summon himself.
Wouldn’t that be something?
His own little personal brand of immortality.
Too bad it involved dying first.
Above him, Five frowned. He leaned back, easing the pressure off Klaus’ throat but not moving from his position on top of his chest. He gave Klaus a curious look, then looked around.
“Shit,” he said, climbing off Klaus now. He looked at his brother with his brow furrow. “You started a fire in your sleep, didn’t you?”
The speed of that realization seemed unreasonably fast. Klaus’ mouth dropped open as he grappled for the shirt that had fallen by the wayside in Five’s attack. “What? I literally wake you up and that’s the first thing you assume?”
Five, wearing his ridiculous Umbrella Academy pajamas like the 13 year old he claimed not to be, did not seem to be swayed. “Your powers are uncontrolled. They manifest at odd times. You recently discovered you have the power to start fire. Plus, you’re the one rescuing me, which implies you’re the source. It doesn’t take a genius to put those facts together -- and I am a genius, by the way.”
Klaus sat up, a little gingerly. It was hard to say if he was sore from the physical attack or the verbal one. “That hurts, just so you know,” he said. “I come to save your life, and that hurts.”
Sober Klaus still had a flair for the melodramatic. He and Addict Klaus were alike in that way.
Five, reaching for a pair of shoes and his bathrobe, did not seem to be bothered. He shrugged instead, like the house wasn’t literally burning down around them. “It’s not an insult, just an observation,” he said. He opened up his wardrobe and retrieved a shirt of his own. “No need ot make it personal.”
“How is it not personal?” Klaus demanded, feeling a little put out now. Sober Klaus wanted to do the right thing, but he had limits, you know. He had feelings.
“Because I don’t care that you caused it,” Five said. “This isn’t about blame.”
“The first thing that came out of your mouth was blame!”
“You have to understand the events in order to respond to the events,” Five explained, like it was all totally logical. He shrugged again. “I mean, Vanya went and caused the apocalypyse -- twice -- and we all got on with things just fine.”
That was a point, probably. Klaus jusrt wasn’t quite ready to concede it. “It’s not the same thing,” he muttered.
Five rolled his eyes, tying the shirt around his face in a perfunctory fashion. It looked far more efficient that Klaus’ method of holding it in place. “Don’t be vain,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “What Vanya did was far worse, so get over yourself and keep to the plan. Have you gotten the others out yet?”
All business.
Sober Klaus could be all business.
Even when he didn’t want to be.
That was called maturity. That was what it was called. Sober Klaus could be mature.
Now, if Sober Klaus could just stay focused, they’d be all set.
“Uh, no,” Klaus said, lifting up his shirt back over his mouth as more smoke continued to fill the room. “Ben’s been scoping out the fire and hasn’t found the source yet, but smoke rises and you were highest. So I don’t know--”
“So you went up,” Five concluded with a nod. “Makes sense. What about Ben? Can you channel him right now? Use him to alert the others?”
Klaus winced apologetically. It was pretty clear Sober Klaus was powerful. Unfortunately, Sober Klaus wasn’t very disciplined yet. No, that did not make Allison right. “There’s so much going on right now,” Klaus said. “By the time I was able to focus--”
Five didn’t need it spelled out. “It’d take you longer than doing it the other way,” he said. It was surprisingly non judgemental. Five was, at his core, a practical person. He inclined his head. “Well, I can help you. Split the process. It’ll go faster, improve our odds.”
Klaus, at his core, was not a practical person. “What? No,” he said. “I’m the one evacuating you, remember?”
Even with his face behind the shirt, Five’s incredulity was easy to see. “My powers are especially conducive to this type of situation.”
All his reason and logic. Whatever. “But you need to get out,” Klaus said, insistent now. “We already established that this is my fault. I have to fix it!”
“But my powers can help,” Five said, simple and emphatic. “What is the point of having powers if we don’t use them for the greater good? You have to let me help. For you and for the rest of our siblings.”
Klaus nodded, albeit with some reluctance. “With great power comes great responsibility, huh?”
Five’s nose was wrinkled deeply. “Are you actually quoting a comic book while you burn the house down?”
Klaus reddened. Not that you could tell, given the amount of smoke. “That’s what you’re saying, though, right?”
Five shook his head. “Look, the smoke is filling up fast,” he said. “Why don’t you go and get Grace and Pogo in the other wing. I’ll stay here and gather the others.”
Klaus was inclined to argue, but the smoke was burning his eyes again. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he agreed, because Sober Klaus could be agreeable when he needed to be. “Yeah, okay.”
“We’ll meet outside,” Five said, making his way to the door. “In front of the south entrance!”
“South entrance!” Klaus echoed after him. “Be there or be square! Or, you know, be burned alive. Either way.”
Five didn’t respond as he blinked out of existence. Trudging back through the smoke, Klaus rolled his own eyes on Five’s behalf.
“Honestly,” Klaus muttered to himself, dropping back down to his knees as he made his way back into the hall for the opposite wing of the house. “Sober Klaus is kind of a moron sometimes.”
-o-
Sober Klaus was a moron, but you know what? When it counted? Under pressure.
Well, Sober Klaus could be persistent!
Yes, that wasn’t the full scope of what he was supposed to be. Sure, patience was still a virtue he knew nothing about but whatever. Persistence! Klaus was so persistent that he literally crawled on his hands and knees across the entire house.
And it wasn’t just, like, a house.
This was a mansion.
Full of random stairwells and odd hallways.
And Klaus crawled! With smoke everywhere!
And he made it all the way across the house to Pogo’s room. Fortunately, Pogo lived in the basement. He also seemed to live conveniently far away from the fire. Ben still hadn’t confirmed a location -- which, seriously, what good was a ghost brother if he couldn’t do shit like this -- but the smoke wasn’t quite as intense the further he got away from their bedrooms, so it seemed like a logical conclusion.
Sober Klaus could also be logical.
Sober Klaus really did have superpowers.
Still, even if the smoke wasn’t as bad it was still pretty bad. “You look pretty bad, bro,” Ben observed as Klaus staggered to his feet outside Pogo’s room. “You’re going to have to get out of here.”
“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Mr. I’m a Dead Guy,” Klaus huffed, feeling his lungs burn as he drew air into them. “Not all of us have the benefit of being noncorporeal.”
“I just mean hurry,” Ben said. His eyes were pinched, his jaw tense. “You have to get out of here.”
Klaus waved a hand at him and opened the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m working on it. I’m being persistent.”
And in he went.
-o-
Pogo, for all that he was a well trained, genetically manipulated, polite butler, was also still a monkey. And you know what? Monkeys are super keen to being woken up. Although, Pogo screeched wildly, he didn’t try to kill him, which still made him more pleasant than Five in these kind of extreme situations.
They had a lot of these situations, didn’t they? Klaus had always thought that was because his dad was a crazy person who was stupid and bad and selfish, but maybe some of it wasn’t his fault.
Sober Klaus could be magnanimous. He had to be, given how Pyro Klaus was, well, a pyromaniac.
“So you have to get out!” Klaus said, trying to sound urgent but the extra force only made his throat seize up. His breathing felt strained now, every breath something of a concerted effort that Sober Klaus, in all his persistence, was starting to find difficult to maintain. “And we need to call the fire department.”
Pogo was dressed in pajamas that looked almost as neat and proper as Five’s. And somehow, just as ridiculous. “Of course, of course,” he said. “Your father always was rather lax about traditional security threats. I might recommend that we include fire alarms in the next mansion update.”
Klaus cleared his throat to no avail. His eyes were wet, burning so bad that his vision was blurry. “Assuming we don’t burn it down first,” he wheezed. He jerked his head toward the door. He’d had the sense to close this one behind him, at least, to minimize the smoke. “Can you get yourself out? I have to get Mom.”
“Yes, yes, of course, dear boy,” Pogo said, shooing him off. “Grace’s circuits are made to withstand a great deal of heat, but she won’t last long in open flame.”
“But you’ll get out,” Klaus stressed. Because this was what responsibility looked like. If his great power was out of control, it was time for his great responsibility to start kicking in. Better late than never. “Or should I see you out?”
Pogo sighed, a little like he thought the suggestion was cute. “I have the trappings of a proper English butler, but I have the DNA of something far more primal,” he said. “I’m worried more about you.”
Klaus shook his head, taking another wheezing breath. “Five’s helping,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Meet out on the front steps, east entrance.”
Pogo inclined his head, reaching for the window and opening it. With strong, graceful movements, he pulled himself up. “Very well,” he said, leveraging himself out the window. “See you in a few moments!”
Klaus watched, a little awestruck, while their butler turned part-time father climbed out of the basement like a normal monkey would climb a tree. It occurred to him belatedly that Pogo might not want to reconvene with the others in public since, you know, he was a monkey, but a call from Animal Control was still rather low on his list of concerns.
Sober Klaus had a list of concerns.
And now he could check another item off the list.
Save Pogo’s life.
Check.
Now, Klaus put the soiled t-shirt back over his mouth, it was time to go get Mom.
-o-
Grace didn’t sleep too far away, having been set up in a bedroom of her own choosing on that side of the house. After saving the world and putting things back in order, Diego had all but insisted that she be given a room of her own, complete with a private charging station and room for any hobbies she might choose to pursue.
That was nice, really. Quaint and thoughtful and really damn inconvenient in case of an emergency.
Well, maybe not every emergency, but this emergency. Fires. Why did no one think about fire? All their contingencies to stop bad guys and save the world and who the hell was thinking about the risk of a house fire?
That was going to change, yes, it was. Right after Sober Klaus taught Pyro Klaus how to shut the hell up and stop being a psychotic little bastard with a penchant for self destruction. Pyro Klaus needed to learn that that was Addict Klaus’ job, and they weren’t talking to Addict Klaus anymore. So, really, this was getting straight up, flat out ridiculous.
By the time Klaus got to Grace’s new special, private room, the smoke was considerably worse. He was still crawling his way around, and it wasn’t helping much anymore. It was so thick that there was almost no reprieve, and it felt like he was breathing sludge even with the mouth covering. He had to pause several terms as his labored breaths tore at his chest. Once, he nearly curled up and died right there when a fit of coughing tried to force his lungs out through his very constricted throat.
It was tempting to give up. It was. It was tempting to just lie there and die because who the hell was Klaus to pretend like he had anything left resembling pride. But this wasn’t about pride.
This was power and responsibility.
This was Klaus, saving his family.
Dogged, Klaus forced himself up, back to his hands and knees. Ben had been gone for awhile now -- hopefully making sure the others were okay -- or Seance Klaus was getting too weak to keep him. That would be an ominous way to look at things, and Klaus didn’t have the energy for actual pessimism.
With relief, he came across the door. It was open a crack, and he all but fell against it, sending it open with a crash. Hastily, he closed it again, but the room was already thick with smoke. Stumbling, he got to his feet.
“Mom!” he yelled, but the use of his voice singed his vocal cords. He winced and gargled on the rawness in his throat as he staggered forward. “Mom!”
He found her, sitting prim and proper in the chair. Her arm was held out, still hooked up to the power source. Her normally impeccable appearance was dusty with soot, and he squinted, wishing he knew how to disconnect her properly. He gave up on the effort, though. If he waited to do it properly, he’d be dead and Mom’s circuits would be melted. He wrapped his shaky fingers around the cord and yanked it free. Mom whirred, power churning back to life, and she opened her eyes and righted herself.
Klaus, in utter relief, nearly collapsed on her lap.
He inhaled, trying to catch his breath and warn her, but the words wouldn’t come. He coughed instead, the motion jarring him badly.
Mom, fortunately, didn’t need an explanation. “The house is on fire,” she said. Her hands landed on Klaus head, brushing away his hair. “You are suffering from smoke inhalation. We need to evacuate.”
Klaus was pretty sure that was his line, but whatever. He took a gasping breath. “We got to go--”
He tried to get to his feet, but the process was too hard. Mom, naturally, noticed. With the tenderness of a mother and the strength of the most sophisticated AI in the world, she helped him to his feet and steadied him.
“Your breathing has already been badly affected,” she said. “You should already be outside.”
“But I had to -- I had to -- save you,” he explained, halting and with effort. The words trailed off with a cough.
She smiled sweetly. “That is quite thoughtful of you, Klaus,” she said. “But now we have no time to waste. If we do not exit the building within five minutes, you are likely to require breathing treatment and medical attention.”
Five minutes sounded like a long time.
And like no time.
Sober Klaus could be really contradictory. It seemed to be a universal Klaus trait. “Well, okay, then,” he said, all out of strength to argue. He’d done his job, anyway. He’d done what he set out to do. Sober Klaus had persistence. And Sober Klaus showed responsibility. Sober Klaus could evacuate now, all duties fulfilled.
“Then by all means,” he croaked, gesturing to the door. “After you.”
She smiled, lifting up his hand to put the cloth back over his face. “Very well,” she said, starting forward and half dragging him with her. “Have I told you just how proud I am of you?”
“You know,” Klaus said as they made their way slowly toward the exit. “I think I could stand to hear it again.”
-o-
One bad thing about the mansion was that it was huge. It took forever to get from one side to the other.
The good thing about the mansion was that it was huge. There were exits, quite literally, everywhere.
Of course, Klaus was currently Oxygen Deprived Klaus, so it was a really good thing that Mom was a robot who didn’t need to breathe and who could literally carry him when push came to shove. Needless to say, that made their exit expedient and safe, and by the time Klaus hit the fresh, night air, it felt like his chest might explode. He coughed until he retched, and then he coughed some more while Mom lifted him up and checked him over. He resisted, though, pulling away and trying to orient himself.
The east entrance.
He had to get to the east entrance.
“Klaus, please be still!” Mom called to him sternly.
He shook his head. Sober Klaus could be just as disobedient as Addict Klaus, when the cause was right.
“The others,” he croaked, getting stiffly to his feet and forcing his feet to move and his lungs to work. “I have to check on the others.”
-o-
The air had cleared his head a little bit, which only sharpened just how much his chest ached. It was like breathing through cotton, and the movement of air in his lungs was like a thousand small knife wounds. Sober Klaus, as it turned out, really didn’t have a high pain tolerance. The drugs made that sort of thing easier, but the drugs wouldn’t have helped him here.
Mom was a step behind him when he rounded the corner, but he broke into a run the last distance. He crossed over, nearly tripping on his own feet. His vision was still questionable, but he could see people, blurry forms outside the east entrance. Huddled on the curb, looking up. As he got nearer, the forms separated, and Klaus recognized them. Diego with his knives in hand. Allison with her hair a mess and wearing a silk robe. Luther was close to her, arm held around her shoulders protectively, and Vanya was covered in ash and soot. She looked up and saw him first.
“Klaus!” she yelled, running toward him.
The others followed her, rushing at him with a mixture of relief and joy.
“Klaus, you’re okay!” Vanya yelled, all but colliding with him as she enveloped him in a hug.
“Thank God,” Diego said.
“Klaus, we were so worried,” Allison added, huddling closer to him.
Luther put a hand on his shoulder. “We were worried you didn’t make it.”
Klaus pulled away, trying to stifle a cough. He blinked a few times, focusing his vision, and making sure they were there. “You know me,” he joked. “Not so easy to get rid of.”
They laughed. “We are seriously going to have to talk about your powers, though,” Luther said.
“Seriously, dude,” Diego said. “This is ridiculous.”
“I told you so,” Allison said, but she was smiling and there was no bite to her words.
Klaus could take that. They were alive, he was alive, he could take that. He filled his lungs again, letting the air galvanize him more. “Oh, this isn’t so bad,” he said. “Has anyone found out where the fire is anyway?”
“Pogo called for the fire department,” Vanya said. “They should be here soon.”
“And I will have to check you all over quite thoroughly,” Mom said, starting to herd the siblings back to the curb, what she undoubtedly determined to be a safe distance from the home.
Klaus allowed this, too tired, too relieved to protest. Sober Klaus was also Family Klaus. This sort of shit worked for him, this together thing. It was an advantage Addict Klaus had never had. Asshole had never realized just what he was missing out on. “All of which sounds very practical,” he consented now. “But hey, where’s Five? The little bastard said he’d meet me here.”
He asked the question lightly.
The confusion on the faces of the others wasn’t light, however. There was a hesitation. A moment of silence.
Sober Klaus felt his chest clench, only this time it had nothing to do with the smoke. “Guys,” he said again, swallowing hard now. “Where’s Five?”
The others exchanged looks now, guilty and worried. “He said he was going back for you,” Luther said.
“He said his powers made him the best choice,” Diego added. “Said he’d know where to look.”
Allison’s face was suddenly drained of its color. “You didn’t see him?”
“I did, when he said he was getting you,” Klaus said, his heart starting to pound. It was like the start of a high, when the rush of adrenaline was about to take him under. Only there was no place to go this time. No way to escape the crushing reality that was bearing down on him. “He’s supposed to be with you.”
“He was,” Luther said, a little louder now, as if he could somehow demand the change he wanted. “But he went to find you.”
Diego blinked, his brow furrowed. “But he’s not here--”
Allison closed her eyes.
Vanya looked nothing short of distraught, her own breathing compromised now. “But then where’s Five?”
Klaus looked away, tearing his gaze away from his siblings and looking back at the mansion. The vast, sprawling mansion, full of rooms and hallways and staircases. The mansion he’d set on fire. The mansion he’d determined to evacuate.
His power got them into this.
It had to be his power -- his willpower, at any rate -- that got them out.
That was what they were talking about, right?
Power and responsibility.
He drew a taut breath and held it in his lungs before running up the steps and throwing open the front door.
It was a real son of a bitch.
-o-
He could hear them behind him, pounding up the steps after him. But they were too slow. His siblings tried to stop him, but they didn’t understand.
Sober Klaus had discovered persistence.
And nothing -- he would repeat that for the people in the back -- nothing would stop him now.
-o-
The thing about persistence was that it wasn’t always enough.
That seemed unreasonably annoying and kind of ironic. All the virtues people talked about. All this push for him to be sober, responsible and functional, and for what? He was still probably going to die an early and untimely death.
And, in this case, it was also probably going to be pretty painful and horrible. Sober Klaus was pretty sure that Pyro Klaus hadn’t thought about that when he went about starting fires all willy nilly. Arson was fun and all until you burned yourself alive.
Klaus would laugh because that was pretty hilarious but he was too busy suffocating from smoke inhalation to make it work.
Seriously, though, he was probably going to die. That was the one coherent thought he had as he climbed his way up the main staircase and turning toward the bedrooms. He’d barely made it a foot down the hall before the smoke threatened to consume him. The cloth over his face wasn’t making any difference now, and what was he going to do realistically? Search the whole wing on his hands and knees with his eyes closed? Search the whole house?
Five would be dead by the time Klaus found him.
And Klaus would be too dead to know how dead Five was.
Basically, this ended with death.
That was the order of things, then. Sobriety, power, responsibility and death. Cool and super cool and whatever.
“Klaus!”
That was probably death now, literally calling him by now.
“Klaus!”
With a groan, Klaus realized he was face first on the ground. He flopped over painfully, landing on his back. He tried opening his eyes but hacked instead.
“Klaus, wake up!”
“Shut up, Ben,” Klaus moaned, trying to flop over again when his eyes hurt too much. But his brother’s face was very close to his, and what it lacked in opacity, it made up for with intensity. “I’m trying to die here, can’t you see that?”
Ben didn’t laugh. “You have to get up!”
Klaus laughed, blowing out a huff of air that he couldn’t take fully into his lungs anyway. “Why?”
He was expecting some conviction about how life was worth, about how he finally got his life together and why would he want to waste it.
But instead, Ben shook his head. “Because I know where Five is.”
Klaus opened his eyes. He took a breath. Everything burned, but that was it. That was the only motivation he had left.
He sat up jerkily, putting the cloth back over his mouth again feebly. “Show me.”
And off they went.
-o-
The key to success, as a functional sober adult wasn’t really all that secret or special. All it was, you see, was not quitting. That was the heart of responsibility. Just not stopping. Not when it was hard, not when it hurt. Not when you really, really wanted to.
And Klaus wanted to now.
He really, really did.
Every movement felt like torture. He stopped often to clear his lungs, but the process got less and less effective. He was practically choking with every breath now, and the smoke was so thick that it had practically blinded him. This had seemed like a really good idea at the time…
Actually, no. It hadn’t. It had seemed like a shitty idea at the time, and it seemed even shittier now, and for what? For him to die without even saving Five? What was this whole deal about doing the right thing when it didn’t mean shit?
Maybe Addict Klaus had it right. Maybe Addict Klaus knew what he was doing.
Coughing violently, Klaus curled in on himself. He had no idea where he was by this point. He couldn’t see and his sense of direction was shot. He had no chance of finding Five like this. He did, however, have every chance of dying.
Maybe it was time for Sleeping Klaus. Sleeping Klaus was nice. Quiet, calm and--
“Keep going!” Ben yelled. “We’re almost there!”
That was really easy for Ben to say. The lucky bastard no longer had functioning lungs.
“Come on! Come on!”
Sleeping Klaus would have to wait. Addict Klaus would have to prove his shit another day. Klaus -- whatever version you liked -- got back on his hands and knees and went after his brother.
-o-
It seemed to take forever, and Klaus wasn’t feeling much like putting things in perspective at the moment. That required thought and energy, and truth be told, he was short on both. He was also short on oxygen, and he nearly passed out about five times in the last stretch. Ben’s exhortation gave him direction, but the desire to follow through on this whole responsibility thing was what kept him actually going.
Blindly, he felt through the hall. The smoke here was so thick that it was impossible to even see Ben. “You’re here! You’re here!”
There was wood floor here, which probably should have been some indication about where they were but Klaus honestly couldn’t remember. He’d climbed a set of stairs to get here, and he had a vague notion that it might be possible to roll his way back down. Of course, going down was only an option when he finished his objective.
His smoke-clogged nose seized up. He hacked and retched.
What was the objective anyway?
To prove himself?
To die?
No, Five.
He had to find Five.
For the five other siblings on the street, he had to find Five.
Five for five.
This family was so weird.
Five.
Reaching forward, he attempted to move clumsily down the hall after Ben’s voice. There was something in his path though. Something firm and awkwardly shaped. But still soft.
Oh shit.
“Five!” he called out, voice all but garbled by the gunk built up in his airway. He felt around Five’s shoe -- too small and too big -- and then worked his hand up the leg. The familiar cotton pajamas up to Five’s skinny torso. “Five!”
Leaning closer now, Klaus forced his eyes to open and clear. The air was black now, but as he dropped low enough he could just make out Five’s soot-covered pajamas. He ducked closer, leaning close to his brother’s face, using his own smudged fingers to try to smear away the soot. It didn’t work, but he dropped his head closer to Five’s face. There were still no flames, but the density of the smoke clouded his hearing, too. Still, Klaus waited for it, a small puff of air against his cheek.
He grinned.
That made him cough a lot, but he still grinned.
“He’s alive!” he said, looking up for Ben. Ben, thankfully, had stayed close by.
“Great!” Ben said. Concern creased his brow. “You think you can get him out of here by yourself?”
That was a silly question. Klaus had come this far, hadn’t he? He’d committed this much. Sober Klaus was now Responsible Klaus and Responsible Klaus followed through on his word, no exception. Come hell or high water.
And definitely come house fires caused by your own out of control powers.
Reaching around, he picked up Five’s limp form. Small as he was, he was still heavy and unwieldy. It was harder than he’d hoped to carry him, navigating through the smog without choking on the smoke while physically exerting himself.
“You bet your ass I can,” he said, dragging Five a few feet back down the smoke-filled hallway. “Just try to stop me.”
-o-
To be fair, Ben wasn’t going to try to stop him. Ben, in fact, was quite helpful, providing ongoing navigational clues that kept Klaus from wandering endless in circles.
Which, being totally candid, would totally have happened. Responsible Klaus still had no sense of direction.
What he did have, however, was motivation. Focus. Clarity.
The sense of purpose had cleared his mind. Sure, it still felt like he was breathing fire, but he held onto the keen sense of the pain and muddled through anyway. Yes, he felt like he was going to die from exhaustion, but he persisted. He had a definitive goal, a clear end point, and there was no way he was going to stop until he got there.
This wasn’t probably an actual superpower, but it felt far more practical than any of the other superpowers Klaus had exhibited to date. This whole fire thing wasn’t exactly doing much for him, and sure, it’d be nice if he could just float Five out of here but Levitation Klaus was kind of AWOL with Seance Klaus and Conduit Klaus.
And Responsible Klaus could do this.
He would. Because Responsible Klaus was Determined Klaus. It was Committed Klaus. It was Don’t-Mess-Around-With-Me-Today-I’m-Going-to-Save-Lives Klaus. That Klaus.
He needed all those Klaus to do this. His lungs felt like they were filled with lead now, and his head felt light. His vision was sporadic, and he had to rely on Ben entirely to keep him from running into walls and falling down stairs. Five had apparently made it about halfway across the house -- no doubt, his idiot brother had been trying to find him when he turned up as the last sibling to show at the east entrance. Self sacrifice, as it turned out, was a family trait.
“This way! We’re almost there!” Ben called to him, dragging him through the smog. It felt like he was in mud now, dragging his feet forward step by step. He was too weak to lift Five up, and his back ached from dragging him, inch by inch toward the exit.
“Come on, Five,” he muttered, tripping his way down the stairs.
“You’re in the front hall!” Ben yelled, and he sounded excited. “Just a little farther!”
A little farther felt like miles. It felt like moving halfway across the whole damn planet. His progress was slow, Five’s deadweight dragging him down step by step. Addict Klaus would have quit by now, no questions asked. Pyro Klaus and Levitation Klaus were worthless, honestly. Seance Klaus and Conduit Klaus probably would have thrown in the towel, too. Sober Klaus was barely holding on, but Responsible Klaus had this under control.
Because sometimes there wasn’t an easy out.
Sometimes you just had to do the work.
And sometimes -- Klaus had to believe, needed to believe -- sometimes it actually paid off.
Klaus all but fell through the front door. It burst open, and he came tumbling out. He nearly lost his balance at the top of the stoop, Five’s weight throwing his equilibrium off. He hacked a few times in the billows of smoke that followed him out, but then, he inhaled.
Short, sharp and glorious. The night air was more intoxicating than any drug he’d ever tried. It filled his lungs; he could feel it in his brain. It enlivened his senses, and it felt it tingle down his arms, down his back, all the way to his toes.
Shit.
Klaus was alive.
Klaus was alive.
The rush of adrenaline got him down a few steps, but that was the thing with highs. Sober Klaus probably kind of forgot about that part, but Addict Klaus knew it. The higher the high, the lower the low. And Klaus crashed -- physically and metaphorically -- as he hit the sidewalk in front of the mansion.
His knees were buckling, and his throat had seized up. He coughed, arms trembling from exertion as he tried to control his collapse. His vision still hadn’t quite cleared, but he could just make out Five’s face as they spiraled toward the ground together.
Addict Klaus fell a lot.
A lot a lot.
But when Sober Klaus fell?
There was someone there to catch him.
A bunch of someones, actually.
A family.
Hero Klaus, was that a thing?
Strong arms supported him, someone leaned into him to keep him upright. Gentle touch took Five away, cradling his body close.
Klaus coughed and closed his eyes, forcing a harrowing breath in and out through his nose.
“You’re okay, Klaus.”
“We got you.”
“You did it, you saved Five.”
“We’re here.”
Yeah, Klaus decided. Hero Klaus is definitely a thing.
-o-
Hero Klaus was tired. He hurt. And he was just really so, so tired.
But Hero Klaus wasn’t alone. Not when Responsible Klaus was still kicking around.
And damn it, that guy wouldn’t shut up. Klaus was well on his way to some type of blissful unconsciousness after having a hell of a night, but Responsible Klaus was there, lurking in the background. Asking if he was sure he’d succeeded. Was he sure things were okay? Was Five all right? Was he?
The guy was so annoying that Klaus put Sleeping Klaus aside and went ahead and opened his eyes.
And shit.
He felt horrible.
Conscious now, his throat was raw. His chest was tight, and he felt nauseated. His eyes burned and his lips were chapped. He was sitting, propped up against Luther’s chest. Nearby, Diego had Five leaned up against him and Allison was leaning in front of them, looking concerned. Vanya was standing not far away, looking like she’d been crying.
Klaus tried to speak, but all that came out was garbled nonsense that ending up with a coughing fit that nearly had him blacking out again. Luther restrained him gently, but Determined Klaus was back. He had no delusions that he might actually overpower Luther physically, but Luther had nothing on Determined Klaus. With careful support, he got himself upright, moving closer to where Allison was examining Five.
“Is he okay?” he croaked. “Is he--”
“Breathing,” Allison confirmed. “I can’t get him to wake up, though.”
“Fire department is around the other way,” Diego said, nodding around the corner. “Pogo and Mom are holding them off, but if we think Five needs a hospital--”
Klaus wasn’t sure about that because there was no Doctor Klaus anywhere, nor would there ever be, but he didn’t need to be a doctor.
All he needed to be was a brother.
“Five,” he said, reaching his shaky, numb fingers toward his brother. He wrapped them in the soiled fabric of Five’s ridiculous pajamas. “Five, wake up.”
His siblings, you see, they had always tolerated Addict Klaus. They had liked Sober Klaus. They were learning to deal with Levitation Klaus and Pyro Klaus.
But Hero Klaus?
Well, they’d do anything for Hero Klaus.
Because they knew Hero Klaus would do anything for them.
Including running through a burning building,
Especially running through a burning building.
“Five!”
It was a horrible, wheezy sound, the last Klaus had left.
The thing was -- and this was the thing that mattered -- it worked.
Five shuddered under his touch, and he trembled at the invective. His eyelids fluttered, and with a ragged inhalation, he started coughly. The racking coughs shook him as Diego held him, and Allison stroked his hair out of his eyes while he cleared the soot out of his airway and tried breathing again.
“Hey!” Klaus crooned, his voice gaining strength as he smiled widely. “Your back!”
Five weakly coughed again, squinting up at him in obvious pain. He glanced from Klaus to the others and back again. “Where were you?” he rasped.
“Uh, sticking to the plan,” Klaus said. “What about you? What were you doing?”
Five winced and visibly made no effort to sit up on his own just yet, which was a pretty good indication of how bad he felt right now. “I came after you.”
“Huh, that’s funny, because that’s what I had to do for you,” Klaus said. “Who would have thought, huh? That’d I’d be the one to get it right.”
Five huffed, eyelids fluttering back sleepily as he cleared his throat. “And clearly you’re not going to let it go to your head.”
“Well, I’m just saying,” he said. “Apparently great power is great responsibility.”
Five groaned. “This isn’t a comic book, asshole.”
Klaus grinned back at him. “It might as well be,” he said. “I mean it took some time, some work, some practice, some discipline--” He looked at his siblings each in turn before smiling at Five again. “--but I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of this thing.”
You could call it being a superhero.
You could call it being an adult.
You could call it being responsible.
Or you could just call it being human.
See, Pyro Klaus was sketchy. Sober Klaus was here to stay. And Hero Klaus, as it turned out, was really pretty cool.
The best one, though, by far is Brother Klaus.
No further explanations needed.
Disclaimer: I own nothing here.
A/N: Set a bit in the future after S1 with the assumption that they set everything right and restore their own timeline for the better. Fills my fire prompt for hc_bingo. Completely and horribly unbeta’ed.
Summary: Klaus discovers the full range of his powers after getting sober. It goes about as well as you expect.
-o-
Sober Klaus was a thing now.
Well, actually, more accurately, he was a person. Sure, it was arguable that Sober Klaus had always existed, but as a child, Sober Klaus had been sort of a default. When given the choice, he’d chosen Alcohol Klaus or Marijuana Klaus or finally Every Drug He Could Get His Hands on Klaus, i.e., in simpler terms, Addict Klaus.
And, for the record, Klaus believed that Addict Klaus was actually kind of fun. Sure, there was the whole part where he was constantly strung out on drugs and how he was irresponsible and made horrible decisions, but some of those decisions? Were, like, the best.
Addict Klaus sang the best karaoke. Addict Klaus could make excellent brownies. Addict Klaus could dance super well. Addict Klaus was funnier and more popular. Addict Klaus also didn’t talk to dead people, which was still just really, really nice.
Sadly, Addict Klaus couldn’t save the world. Addict Klaus wasn’t much good for the Umbrella Academy. And, fine, Addict Klaus was probably going to die before he was 40 so Sober Klaus was the better, more responsible choice.
That wasn’t to say that Klaus didn’t miss Addict Klaus.
But at least it was going to be an adventure figuring out who this Sober Klaus actually was.
-o-
Sober Klaus, he learned after three weeks of focused sobriety and training, could summon people at will. Seance Klaus was easily the most natural of his sober forms, but he realized that with focus he could pick and choose the spirits he had contact with most of the time. Sometimes, there would be a dead person who was a pain in the ass, Seance Klaus generally had control over who he talked to and when. It was kind of nice to realize he had the ability to turn it on and off. He no longer had to eat his breakfast with dead people if he didn’t want to.
After Seance Klaus, he had learned Conduit Klaus. For this, he and Ben worked together. A lot. It took about another two weeks after that for Conduit Klaus to function with any kind of predictability. But with practice and training, he was able to fully channel Ben whenever they damn well pleased, and that increased the viability of Conduit Klaus by, like, a lot.
“See?” Diego said. “I always told you to get sober.”
“Uh, yeah,” Klaus said. “Because you wanted to stop bailing me out of jail.”
“Well, okay,” Diego agreed. “But finding out just how powerful you are. That’s kind of nice, right?”
-o-
Klaus would concede. Yes, Conduit Klaus was kind of nice.
But Levitation Klaus?
Yeah, Klaus really liked Levitation Klaus?
He discovered that power about two months after getting sober. Yeah, two months! He knew that being sober would be a process, but no one had ever mentioned just how much persistence and patience sobriety would require.
No, scratch that. They did. That was why Klaus had never really bothered to do it before. Because persistence and patience? Addict Klaus had never been required to exhibit either of those things and he’d been so much happier for it.
The discovery was also entirely by accident. With Seance Klaus, he’d worked at it. He’d practiced hard with Conduit Klaus. But Levitation Klaus was random and unexpected. One day, during a particularly boring training session, he’d been dozing off. Sober Klaus was more committed to things, but he wasn’t some automaton or a saint. Training could be boring! He was half asleep, smiling his way through a Broadway production of Captain Underpants starring Brad Pitt as, get this, the toilet, when Allison’s voice shook him awake.
“Klaus, what the hell?”
He was about to ask her the same thing as he jolted out of the half-baked dream, but he was too busy crashing to the floor to get the words out.
She helped him sit up, and he groaned, moving gingerly. “Why did you drop kick me?”
Allison got him to a seated position and leaned down to look in his eyes. “I didn’t do this.”
“Then Luther--”
“There’s no one else here, Klaus,” she said, short and matter of fact. “Training is over. Everyone else has gone to lunch. I was going to wake you up to join us….”
She trailed off, cocking her head as if she wasn’t sure what to say next.
Klaus shrugged, pain radiating throughout his body. “And you thought it’d be fun to punch the shit out of me instead?”
“No,” Allison said. “I turned around and you were there, in the corner.”
“Yeah, that’s the best spot to sleep when Luther is all train harder!” Klaus explained. “The chair keeps you upright, makes you look like you’re deep in concentration.”
Allison narrowed her gaze, even more quizzical. “But you weren’t sitting on the chair,” she said.
It was his turn to give her a quizzical gaze in return. “What do you mean? Of course I was sitting on the chair.”
She shook her head. “You were floating, Klaus. You were sleeping and floating three inches above the chairs. Your feet were nowhere near the ground.”
Now, Allison was a liar. That was, like, her thing. She told lies. It wasn’t her fault that her superpower was simple deception. But her lies had purpose. They had motive.
Sitting in front of him, Klaus couldn’t figure out what her motive now might be.
Like, at all.
Unless the motive was the truth.
Unless Allison was telling him the truth.
“Klaus,” she said with a small rush of air. “I think you can levitate.”
That was ridiculous.
No, that was ludicrous. It was laughable, even. The most absolutely, undeniably stupid thing he had ever heard in his entire life.
Or, at least, in his two long months of sobriety.
Which meant.
Klaus eyes widened.
It was invariably true.
“I can levitate?” he asked, the disbelief turning to joyous aspiration.
Allison looked at him steadily. “You’re going to have to be more careful now.”
“Because I can levitate!”
“Because you can activate these new powers even while unconscious,” she said. “And your powers are still growing. Powers like this are going to require responsibility, control.”
Klaus clapped his hands, excitedly. “But I can levitate!”
He scrambled to his feet, throwing his arms around Allison in a hug. “Klaus--”
He let go and sprinted toward the door, yelling, “Hey, guys! It’s time to meet Levitation Klaus!”
-o-
The thing about Levitation Klaus was that Sober Klaus had no apparent control over him. Like, a few times, he managed to, like, hover off the ground, but that was only when, you know, jumping. He was sure he came down slower than normal, but no one else looked convinced.
Not that they didn’t believe him. Sober Klaus was credible in a way that Addict Klaus had never been, and Allison backed him up on it all. Levitation Klaus was a thing. A real, honest to goodness thing.
And if Klaus ever learned how to control him, then he was going to be super cool.
-o-
Ironically, he woke up a few nights later, levitating off his bed. At first he thought he was dreaming, because Sober Klaus still had wacky dreams, but after several seconds it occurred to him just how drafty the room was. About the time he realized that he was floating, he was then crashing to the ground.
Or bed this time.
Landing on a bed was a lot more comfortable than landing on the floor.
Still, Klaus found the whole thing disappointing, and Allison’s advice about power and responsibility rang in his ears.
Sober Klaus, however, conceded nothing.
-o-
Sober Klaus had been around three months.
That was a really long time.
Three whole months! No drugs! No alcohol! Not a single pill! Not even an Advil!
Seance Klaus was kicking ass. Conduit Klaus was very functional. Even Levitation Klaus was almost starting to make progress. Just the other day, Klaus floated his way down the stairs. Like, legit floated. For three steps anyway. Then he fell the rest of the way down, but for the record, still didn’t take Advil, so Sober Klaus is also kind of Rock Star Klaus, thank you very, very much.
If you thought that was where it end, then you would be wrong.
You would be so very wrong.
Because that was the day, as a matter of fact, that Klaus discovered Pyro Klaus.
-o-
For the record, Pyro Klaus was exactly who you thought he was. He was a dude -- smart, funny, nice, capable -- he just happened to be good with fire. It wasn’t that he liked fire or anything in particular. This wasn’t some kind of fixation. No, Pyro Klaus was just gifted with fire.
Literally.
He was gifted with the ability to make fire.
How could he be sure?
Because one day, while sparring with Luther, he randomly sort of maybe set the other man on fire?
Startled, Luther stepped back, staring at his blazing arm. Dumbfounded, he did nothing until Klaus dove at him. It did little to move the man -- Luther was twice his size, easily -- but the momentum brought Luther back to his senses. With Klaus help, they stopped, dropped and rolled, and within a minute, Luther’s charred sleeve and smoking arm hair was the only sign of what had happened.
Luther looked at his singed arm.
He looked at Klaus.
Klaus winced and looked back.
Still breathing heavy from the adrenaline, Luther finally asked, “Did you do that?”
“Yeah,” Klaus said. He attempted to smile. “Oops.”
Klaus had been trying to be helpful. His charming overture felt horribly flat, and Luther looked increasingly mortified. “You did that? You set me on fire?”
Klaus swallowed. “Well, would you believe it was possibly friction? You know, from our sparring session? Got a little overzealous, you know.”
Luther shook his head. “But you hadn’t touched me. We’d been dancing around each other for five minute.”
Klaus’ forced smile fell. “Yes, well, then,” he said. “I guess it’s possible I did that then.”
“You can create fire?” Luther asked, sincerely trying to clarify what they were dealing with here.
Klaus shrugged sheepishly. “Say hi to Pyro Klaus.”
Luther nodded, taking it surprisingly well. It was saying something that setting your brother on fire didn’t actually warrant much cause for concern. “Okay, then,” Luther said, ever practical and to the point. “Well, I guess we’ll work on it then, won’t we?”
-o-
Klaus appreciated that his siblings were supportive -- he did, he really did. Sober Klaus never could have done any of this without his siblings and their understanding and encouragement. They never would have met Seance Klaus or Conduit Klaus or Levitation Klaus or even this wacky Pyro Klaus. The thing was that supportive wasn’t just understanding and encouragement.
No, supportive was also work.
Because when Luther said they’d work on it, apparently he meant they’d work.
On it.
Like, a lot.
And how did you train Pyro Klaus?
Well, incidentally, you ended up burning a lot of shit.
For clarification purposes, when Klaus said a lot, he meant, like, basically everything. He burned books, he burned furniture, he burned food. The problem was, he never burned what he was supposed to burn on command. Sometimes, while trying to light a piece of paper on fire in the trash can, he set his father’s desk ablaze instead. Once, while knitting in the library, he set the books on fire. He managed to set fire to the kitchen while Mom was making dinner.
When Klaus was two floors above.
At the very least, Mom was programmed to fight fires.
Also, they didn’t actually care about Dad’s shit anyway.
Still, it wasn’t easy.
All the training.
“It’s okay,” Vanya told him. “You really are doing great.”
Klaus had just set her bed on fire so he wasn’t certain what her definition of great was.
“I mean, it’s work, but I get it,” she continued, just as enthusiastic as ever. Vanya, for all that her powers were overwhelming and terrifying, seemed to be taking to them quickly. She was born for it, and it was pretty clear she knew it. The fact that she could now destroy the world and all of them didn’t make her any less compassionate, though. “It just takes time.”
Time. In other words, patience and persistence.
“And there are lots of ups and downs,” she said, removing the smoldering sheets and throwing them into the hall.
“Uh, you don’t have ups and downs,” Klaus said, trying to see if the sheets were singed, too. “You just have ups. I mean, you’ve had superpowers for what? Three months? And you can already beat any of us in a fight.”
Vanya, in true Vanya form, blushed. “Sure,” she said. “But you’re forgetting about the part where I blew up the moon, remember?”
Even that was something she was learning to take in stride. She’d been shellshocked for about a week, but after that, she’d committed herself to training. To control. To responsibility.
Damn it, that wasn’t what this was about.
“Well, the spirit world is apparently a little less predictable,” he said, concluding that the sheets, though wet, were probably salvageable. “I mean, I’ve been sober three months and I’m still figuring out that I have new powers.”
“And that’s what makes it exciting, isn’t it?” Vanya asked, taking off the sopping sheets and putting them in a different pile. “There’s so much for us to discover. The possibilities!”
The thing about Vanya was that she meant it.
Dear, sweet Vanya, who had tried to kill them all.
She meant it.
And worse, she made it sound so very easy.
Like it wasn’t unpredictable and hard and scary and overwhelming. That was the thing about Sober Klaus. He could, on occasion, be very, very sober.
Vanya reached out, put a hand on his arm. “The point is that if I can do -- me, Vanya, Number Seven, then of course you can,” she said.
Klaus looked uncertainly at the water laden bed. “You really sure about that?”
Vanya let go of his arm and cheerfully went back to her bed, stripping it all the way down to the mattress. “Of course I am.”
Klaus helped her and shrugged. At least that made one of them.
-o-
Sober Klaus was powerful, but Sleeping Klaus was still, you know, sleepy and utterly useless. So he was in the middle of a particularly vivid dream involve elephant puppets and New Coke from the 1980s with a transgendered senator from Minnesota when something woke him up.
Someone.
Because dead people still counted as people, right?
With a groan, he flopped on his back and squinted up at Ben. “What pronoun do you prefer anyway?”
Ben shook his head, clearly not preferring any pronoun right now. “You have to wake up! Now!”
“Okay, okay,” Klaus mumbled, and he promptly flopped over on his face and tried to go back to sleep.
Ben, who was that much more annoying now that he could take corporeal form, shook him even more violently than before. As if to prove his point that yes, he was real, he warranted a he and not an it. “Klaus! Now!”
Klaus made a face. “What?” he asked, and then with a long suffering sigh he rolled on his back again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “What could possibly be so important?”
Ben was still shaking him, fingers locked on his shoulder now. “There’s a fire!”
That concern was….
A real concern.
Klaus removed his arm. He opened his eyes. Above him, Ben’s form was hazy but not because he was a ghost. No, he was hazy because there was smoke in the air.
“Shit,” Klaus said, scrambling out of bed. “I guess Fire Klaus is still around even when Sleeping Klaus is in control.”
“It could be a coincidence,” Ben said.
Klaus looked at him, incredulous. “A coincidence? That a fire starts exactly two days after I realize I have the ability to start fires?”
“It is an old house,” Ben argued.
“And I have powers that I can’t control that randomly activate when I’m sleeping, one of which is to make fire!” Klaus said. He got out of bed, squinting in the gloomy dark toward the door. “Do you know where it started?”
“Not exactly, but there’s a lot of smoke,” Ben said.
Klaus winced. “I guess Dad didn’t believe in smoke alarms.”
“We’ll have to work on that,” Ben said.
“Yeah, after we all not die,” Klaus muttered. “We need to get out of here.”
“What about everyone else?” Ben asked.
“You think you’re strong enough to wake them?” Klaus asked, glancing at his brother.
Ben shook his head. “You’re too stressed right now. You’re lucky I was able to wake you. I don’t think we’ll manage a projection right now.”
That was disconcerting. The time he was going to need Conduit Klaus and he was going to have to settle for Seance Klaus because Pyro Klaus was an asshole of epic proportions. Sober Klaus was losing control.
He shook his head.
Now was not the time for an identity crisis.
Now was the time to make sure he didn’t accidentally kill his siblings for a lack of responsibility and control and blah, blah, blah.
“Okay,” Klaus said. “Well, smoke rises, so we have to start on the top, right? Before things get too bad.”
Ben nodded along in agreement. “Five’s upstairs.”
Klaus was slipping into a pair of shoes, reaching for a dirty t-shirt to put over his mouth and nose as he approached the door. “Well, then,” he said, voice muffled by the cloth. “Here goes nothing.”
-o-
The thing about Sober Klaus was that he was aware of things. Like, aware aware. Addict Klaus had been willing to do anything because he had completely disassociated himself from actual risk. It was easy to nearly kill yourself when your grasp on reality was pretty sketchy. When you were sober -- stone cold sober, thank you very much -- reality was pretty hard to avoid.
And for the record, reality? Is terrifying.
Sober Klaus, however, didn’t have any choice. Unless Sober Klaus wanted to let Pyro Klaus kill everyone. The reality of almost dying was pretty bad. The reality of possibly losing his siblings, however, was not something he would be able to live with. It would kill Sober Klaus. Straight up, kill him. He’d be gone.
So Sober Klaus was going to save his siblings.
The hallway was clogged with smoke, but there was no sign of flames. Klaus kept the shirt up near his mouth, but he could still taste the smoke and soot on his tongue, coating the back of his throat. He was hacking by the time he got to the stairs, and he dropped low to climb up them one by one, squinting through his burning eyes. Ahead of him, he saw Ben.
“He’s still asleep! Hurry!” Ben called.
It wasn’t like Klaus needed additional motivation. The possibility that this might not be survivable was becoming increasingly poignant to Klaus, and he wished like hell that Pyro Klaus had bothered to learn some of Sober Klaus’ self control. It might have helped.
No matter. Klaus hit the landing at the top of the stairs. The smoke, as was to be expected, was even thicker up here. It made it hard to see, and Klaus didn’t dare get to his feet. He felt it way along, padding with his hands. “Where’s the fire anyway?” he choked out to Ben.
In the smog, Ben looked increasingly hazy. “I haven’t found it yet. But it doesn’t feel hot. Could be in the walls.”
Klaus pressed the shirt to his face even tighter, like that was going to help. “That sounds super fun,” he said, trying to feel his way to a doorframe. “I”ll have to work on my aim.”
“Let’s start with not starting random fires!” Ben called back to him. “Over here! To your right!”
Klaus followed the instructions as best he could before finally finding a door. He felt up blindly, unable to see much of anything, and he fumbled for the doorknob. To his relief, the door swung open easily, and Klaus rolled inside along with billows of dark smoke.
It was a sudden entrance, but the closed door had kept the room marginally clearer of the smoke. With the increased range of vision, Klaus scrambled to his feet, rushing toward Five’s bedside.
“Five, wake up,” he said, reaching down to shake his brother’s shoulder. “Five--”
He was about to tell him there was a fire, that they needed to go, but the words didn’t come. Because upon the touch, Five sprang out of bed. Small as he was, he all but tackled Klaus. They both hit the floor and Klaus saw stars as Five beared down on him with a snarl, pressing a hand viciously against his throat.
Klaus did a mental check of shitty ways to die. Burning to death in a fire of your own making was bad. Getting strangled by your sleep deprived older/younger brother while trying to save his life was not decidedly worse, but it was still pretty bad, too. Kind of a tossup. You know, since dying in general was kind of not what Klaus was going for anymore.
He wondered, ironically, if Dead Klaus could summon himself.
Wouldn’t that be something?
His own little personal brand of immortality.
Too bad it involved dying first.
Above him, Five frowned. He leaned back, easing the pressure off Klaus’ throat but not moving from his position on top of his chest. He gave Klaus a curious look, then looked around.
“Shit,” he said, climbing off Klaus now. He looked at his brother with his brow furrow. “You started a fire in your sleep, didn’t you?”
The speed of that realization seemed unreasonably fast. Klaus’ mouth dropped open as he grappled for the shirt that had fallen by the wayside in Five’s attack. “What? I literally wake you up and that’s the first thing you assume?”
Five, wearing his ridiculous Umbrella Academy pajamas like the 13 year old he claimed not to be, did not seem to be swayed. “Your powers are uncontrolled. They manifest at odd times. You recently discovered you have the power to start fire. Plus, you’re the one rescuing me, which implies you’re the source. It doesn’t take a genius to put those facts together -- and I am a genius, by the way.”
Klaus sat up, a little gingerly. It was hard to say if he was sore from the physical attack or the verbal one. “That hurts, just so you know,” he said. “I come to save your life, and that hurts.”
Sober Klaus still had a flair for the melodramatic. He and Addict Klaus were alike in that way.
Five, reaching for a pair of shoes and his bathrobe, did not seem to be bothered. He shrugged instead, like the house wasn’t literally burning down around them. “It’s not an insult, just an observation,” he said. He opened up his wardrobe and retrieved a shirt of his own. “No need ot make it personal.”
“How is it not personal?” Klaus demanded, feeling a little put out now. Sober Klaus wanted to do the right thing, but he had limits, you know. He had feelings.
“Because I don’t care that you caused it,” Five said. “This isn’t about blame.”
“The first thing that came out of your mouth was blame!”
“You have to understand the events in order to respond to the events,” Five explained, like it was all totally logical. He shrugged again. “I mean, Vanya went and caused the apocalypyse -- twice -- and we all got on with things just fine.”
That was a point, probably. Klaus jusrt wasn’t quite ready to concede it. “It’s not the same thing,” he muttered.
Five rolled his eyes, tying the shirt around his face in a perfunctory fashion. It looked far more efficient that Klaus’ method of holding it in place. “Don’t be vain,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “What Vanya did was far worse, so get over yourself and keep to the plan. Have you gotten the others out yet?”
All business.
Sober Klaus could be all business.
Even when he didn’t want to be.
That was called maturity. That was what it was called. Sober Klaus could be mature.
Now, if Sober Klaus could just stay focused, they’d be all set.
“Uh, no,” Klaus said, lifting up his shirt back over his mouth as more smoke continued to fill the room. “Ben’s been scoping out the fire and hasn’t found the source yet, but smoke rises and you were highest. So I don’t know--”
“So you went up,” Five concluded with a nod. “Makes sense. What about Ben? Can you channel him right now? Use him to alert the others?”
Klaus winced apologetically. It was pretty clear Sober Klaus was powerful. Unfortunately, Sober Klaus wasn’t very disciplined yet. No, that did not make Allison right. “There’s so much going on right now,” Klaus said. “By the time I was able to focus--”
Five didn’t need it spelled out. “It’d take you longer than doing it the other way,” he said. It was surprisingly non judgemental. Five was, at his core, a practical person. He inclined his head. “Well, I can help you. Split the process. It’ll go faster, improve our odds.”
Klaus, at his core, was not a practical person. “What? No,” he said. “I’m the one evacuating you, remember?”
Even with his face behind the shirt, Five’s incredulity was easy to see. “My powers are especially conducive to this type of situation.”
All his reason and logic. Whatever. “But you need to get out,” Klaus said, insistent now. “We already established that this is my fault. I have to fix it!”
“But my powers can help,” Five said, simple and emphatic. “What is the point of having powers if we don’t use them for the greater good? You have to let me help. For you and for the rest of our siblings.”
Klaus nodded, albeit with some reluctance. “With great power comes great responsibility, huh?”
Five’s nose was wrinkled deeply. “Are you actually quoting a comic book while you burn the house down?”
Klaus reddened. Not that you could tell, given the amount of smoke. “That’s what you’re saying, though, right?”
Five shook his head. “Look, the smoke is filling up fast,” he said. “Why don’t you go and get Grace and Pogo in the other wing. I’ll stay here and gather the others.”
Klaus was inclined to argue, but the smoke was burning his eyes again. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he agreed, because Sober Klaus could be agreeable when he needed to be. “Yeah, okay.”
“We’ll meet outside,” Five said, making his way to the door. “In front of the south entrance!”
“South entrance!” Klaus echoed after him. “Be there or be square! Or, you know, be burned alive. Either way.”
Five didn’t respond as he blinked out of existence. Trudging back through the smoke, Klaus rolled his own eyes on Five’s behalf.
“Honestly,” Klaus muttered to himself, dropping back down to his knees as he made his way back into the hall for the opposite wing of the house. “Sober Klaus is kind of a moron sometimes.”
-o-
Sober Klaus was a moron, but you know what? When it counted? Under pressure.
Well, Sober Klaus could be persistent!
Yes, that wasn’t the full scope of what he was supposed to be. Sure, patience was still a virtue he knew nothing about but whatever. Persistence! Klaus was so persistent that he literally crawled on his hands and knees across the entire house.
And it wasn’t just, like, a house.
This was a mansion.
Full of random stairwells and odd hallways.
And Klaus crawled! With smoke everywhere!
And he made it all the way across the house to Pogo’s room. Fortunately, Pogo lived in the basement. He also seemed to live conveniently far away from the fire. Ben still hadn’t confirmed a location -- which, seriously, what good was a ghost brother if he couldn’t do shit like this -- but the smoke wasn’t quite as intense the further he got away from their bedrooms, so it seemed like a logical conclusion.
Sober Klaus could also be logical.
Sober Klaus really did have superpowers.
Still, even if the smoke wasn’t as bad it was still pretty bad. “You look pretty bad, bro,” Ben observed as Klaus staggered to his feet outside Pogo’s room. “You’re going to have to get out of here.”
“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Mr. I’m a Dead Guy,” Klaus huffed, feeling his lungs burn as he drew air into them. “Not all of us have the benefit of being noncorporeal.”
“I just mean hurry,” Ben said. His eyes were pinched, his jaw tense. “You have to get out of here.”
Klaus waved a hand at him and opened the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m working on it. I’m being persistent.”
And in he went.
-o-
Pogo, for all that he was a well trained, genetically manipulated, polite butler, was also still a monkey. And you know what? Monkeys are super keen to being woken up. Although, Pogo screeched wildly, he didn’t try to kill him, which still made him more pleasant than Five in these kind of extreme situations.
They had a lot of these situations, didn’t they? Klaus had always thought that was because his dad was a crazy person who was stupid and bad and selfish, but maybe some of it wasn’t his fault.
Sober Klaus could be magnanimous. He had to be, given how Pyro Klaus was, well, a pyromaniac.
“So you have to get out!” Klaus said, trying to sound urgent but the extra force only made his throat seize up. His breathing felt strained now, every breath something of a concerted effort that Sober Klaus, in all his persistence, was starting to find difficult to maintain. “And we need to call the fire department.”
Pogo was dressed in pajamas that looked almost as neat and proper as Five’s. And somehow, just as ridiculous. “Of course, of course,” he said. “Your father always was rather lax about traditional security threats. I might recommend that we include fire alarms in the next mansion update.”
Klaus cleared his throat to no avail. His eyes were wet, burning so bad that his vision was blurry. “Assuming we don’t burn it down first,” he wheezed. He jerked his head toward the door. He’d had the sense to close this one behind him, at least, to minimize the smoke. “Can you get yourself out? I have to get Mom.”
“Yes, yes, of course, dear boy,” Pogo said, shooing him off. “Grace’s circuits are made to withstand a great deal of heat, but she won’t last long in open flame.”
“But you’ll get out,” Klaus stressed. Because this was what responsibility looked like. If his great power was out of control, it was time for his great responsibility to start kicking in. Better late than never. “Or should I see you out?”
Pogo sighed, a little like he thought the suggestion was cute. “I have the trappings of a proper English butler, but I have the DNA of something far more primal,” he said. “I’m worried more about you.”
Klaus shook his head, taking another wheezing breath. “Five’s helping,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Meet out on the front steps, east entrance.”
Pogo inclined his head, reaching for the window and opening it. With strong, graceful movements, he pulled himself up. “Very well,” he said, leveraging himself out the window. “See you in a few moments!”
Klaus watched, a little awestruck, while their butler turned part-time father climbed out of the basement like a normal monkey would climb a tree. It occurred to him belatedly that Pogo might not want to reconvene with the others in public since, you know, he was a monkey, but a call from Animal Control was still rather low on his list of concerns.
Sober Klaus had a list of concerns.
And now he could check another item off the list.
Save Pogo’s life.
Check.
Now, Klaus put the soiled t-shirt back over his mouth, it was time to go get Mom.
-o-
Grace didn’t sleep too far away, having been set up in a bedroom of her own choosing on that side of the house. After saving the world and putting things back in order, Diego had all but insisted that she be given a room of her own, complete with a private charging station and room for any hobbies she might choose to pursue.
That was nice, really. Quaint and thoughtful and really damn inconvenient in case of an emergency.
Well, maybe not every emergency, but this emergency. Fires. Why did no one think about fire? All their contingencies to stop bad guys and save the world and who the hell was thinking about the risk of a house fire?
That was going to change, yes, it was. Right after Sober Klaus taught Pyro Klaus how to shut the hell up and stop being a psychotic little bastard with a penchant for self destruction. Pyro Klaus needed to learn that that was Addict Klaus’ job, and they weren’t talking to Addict Klaus anymore. So, really, this was getting straight up, flat out ridiculous.
By the time Klaus got to Grace’s new special, private room, the smoke was considerably worse. He was still crawling his way around, and it wasn’t helping much anymore. It was so thick that there was almost no reprieve, and it felt like he was breathing sludge even with the mouth covering. He had to pause several terms as his labored breaths tore at his chest. Once, he nearly curled up and died right there when a fit of coughing tried to force his lungs out through his very constricted throat.
It was tempting to give up. It was. It was tempting to just lie there and die because who the hell was Klaus to pretend like he had anything left resembling pride. But this wasn’t about pride.
This was power and responsibility.
This was Klaus, saving his family.
Dogged, Klaus forced himself up, back to his hands and knees. Ben had been gone for awhile now -- hopefully making sure the others were okay -- or Seance Klaus was getting too weak to keep him. That would be an ominous way to look at things, and Klaus didn’t have the energy for actual pessimism.
With relief, he came across the door. It was open a crack, and he all but fell against it, sending it open with a crash. Hastily, he closed it again, but the room was already thick with smoke. Stumbling, he got to his feet.
“Mom!” he yelled, but the use of his voice singed his vocal cords. He winced and gargled on the rawness in his throat as he staggered forward. “Mom!”
He found her, sitting prim and proper in the chair. Her arm was held out, still hooked up to the power source. Her normally impeccable appearance was dusty with soot, and he squinted, wishing he knew how to disconnect her properly. He gave up on the effort, though. If he waited to do it properly, he’d be dead and Mom’s circuits would be melted. He wrapped his shaky fingers around the cord and yanked it free. Mom whirred, power churning back to life, and she opened her eyes and righted herself.
Klaus, in utter relief, nearly collapsed on her lap.
He inhaled, trying to catch his breath and warn her, but the words wouldn’t come. He coughed instead, the motion jarring him badly.
Mom, fortunately, didn’t need an explanation. “The house is on fire,” she said. Her hands landed on Klaus head, brushing away his hair. “You are suffering from smoke inhalation. We need to evacuate.”
Klaus was pretty sure that was his line, but whatever. He took a gasping breath. “We got to go--”
He tried to get to his feet, but the process was too hard. Mom, naturally, noticed. With the tenderness of a mother and the strength of the most sophisticated AI in the world, she helped him to his feet and steadied him.
“Your breathing has already been badly affected,” she said. “You should already be outside.”
“But I had to -- I had to -- save you,” he explained, halting and with effort. The words trailed off with a cough.
She smiled sweetly. “That is quite thoughtful of you, Klaus,” she said. “But now we have no time to waste. If we do not exit the building within five minutes, you are likely to require breathing treatment and medical attention.”
Five minutes sounded like a long time.
And like no time.
Sober Klaus could be really contradictory. It seemed to be a universal Klaus trait. “Well, okay, then,” he said, all out of strength to argue. He’d done his job, anyway. He’d done what he set out to do. Sober Klaus had persistence. And Sober Klaus showed responsibility. Sober Klaus could evacuate now, all duties fulfilled.
“Then by all means,” he croaked, gesturing to the door. “After you.”
She smiled, lifting up his hand to put the cloth back over his face. “Very well,” she said, starting forward and half dragging him with her. “Have I told you just how proud I am of you?”
“You know,” Klaus said as they made their way slowly toward the exit. “I think I could stand to hear it again.”
-o-
One bad thing about the mansion was that it was huge. It took forever to get from one side to the other.
The good thing about the mansion was that it was huge. There were exits, quite literally, everywhere.
Of course, Klaus was currently Oxygen Deprived Klaus, so it was a really good thing that Mom was a robot who didn’t need to breathe and who could literally carry him when push came to shove. Needless to say, that made their exit expedient and safe, and by the time Klaus hit the fresh, night air, it felt like his chest might explode. He coughed until he retched, and then he coughed some more while Mom lifted him up and checked him over. He resisted, though, pulling away and trying to orient himself.
The east entrance.
He had to get to the east entrance.
“Klaus, please be still!” Mom called to him sternly.
He shook his head. Sober Klaus could be just as disobedient as Addict Klaus, when the cause was right.
“The others,” he croaked, getting stiffly to his feet and forcing his feet to move and his lungs to work. “I have to check on the others.”
-o-
The air had cleared his head a little bit, which only sharpened just how much his chest ached. It was like breathing through cotton, and the movement of air in his lungs was like a thousand small knife wounds. Sober Klaus, as it turned out, really didn’t have a high pain tolerance. The drugs made that sort of thing easier, but the drugs wouldn’t have helped him here.
Mom was a step behind him when he rounded the corner, but he broke into a run the last distance. He crossed over, nearly tripping on his own feet. His vision was still questionable, but he could see people, blurry forms outside the east entrance. Huddled on the curb, looking up. As he got nearer, the forms separated, and Klaus recognized them. Diego with his knives in hand. Allison with her hair a mess and wearing a silk robe. Luther was close to her, arm held around her shoulders protectively, and Vanya was covered in ash and soot. She looked up and saw him first.
“Klaus!” she yelled, running toward him.
The others followed her, rushing at him with a mixture of relief and joy.
“Klaus, you’re okay!” Vanya yelled, all but colliding with him as she enveloped him in a hug.
“Thank God,” Diego said.
“Klaus, we were so worried,” Allison added, huddling closer to him.
Luther put a hand on his shoulder. “We were worried you didn’t make it.”
Klaus pulled away, trying to stifle a cough. He blinked a few times, focusing his vision, and making sure they were there. “You know me,” he joked. “Not so easy to get rid of.”
They laughed. “We are seriously going to have to talk about your powers, though,” Luther said.
“Seriously, dude,” Diego said. “This is ridiculous.”
“I told you so,” Allison said, but she was smiling and there was no bite to her words.
Klaus could take that. They were alive, he was alive, he could take that. He filled his lungs again, letting the air galvanize him more. “Oh, this isn’t so bad,” he said. “Has anyone found out where the fire is anyway?”
“Pogo called for the fire department,” Vanya said. “They should be here soon.”
“And I will have to check you all over quite thoroughly,” Mom said, starting to herd the siblings back to the curb, what she undoubtedly determined to be a safe distance from the home.
Klaus allowed this, too tired, too relieved to protest. Sober Klaus was also Family Klaus. This sort of shit worked for him, this together thing. It was an advantage Addict Klaus had never had. Asshole had never realized just what he was missing out on. “All of which sounds very practical,” he consented now. “But hey, where’s Five? The little bastard said he’d meet me here.”
He asked the question lightly.
The confusion on the faces of the others wasn’t light, however. There was a hesitation. A moment of silence.
Sober Klaus felt his chest clench, only this time it had nothing to do with the smoke. “Guys,” he said again, swallowing hard now. “Where’s Five?”
The others exchanged looks now, guilty and worried. “He said he was going back for you,” Luther said.
“He said his powers made him the best choice,” Diego added. “Said he’d know where to look.”
Allison’s face was suddenly drained of its color. “You didn’t see him?”
“I did, when he said he was getting you,” Klaus said, his heart starting to pound. It was like the start of a high, when the rush of adrenaline was about to take him under. Only there was no place to go this time. No way to escape the crushing reality that was bearing down on him. “He’s supposed to be with you.”
“He was,” Luther said, a little louder now, as if he could somehow demand the change he wanted. “But he went to find you.”
Diego blinked, his brow furrowed. “But he’s not here--”
Allison closed her eyes.
Vanya looked nothing short of distraught, her own breathing compromised now. “But then where’s Five?”
Klaus looked away, tearing his gaze away from his siblings and looking back at the mansion. The vast, sprawling mansion, full of rooms and hallways and staircases. The mansion he’d set on fire. The mansion he’d determined to evacuate.
His power got them into this.
It had to be his power -- his willpower, at any rate -- that got them out.
That was what they were talking about, right?
Power and responsibility.
He drew a taut breath and held it in his lungs before running up the steps and throwing open the front door.
It was a real son of a bitch.
-o-
He could hear them behind him, pounding up the steps after him. But they were too slow. His siblings tried to stop him, but they didn’t understand.
Sober Klaus had discovered persistence.
And nothing -- he would repeat that for the people in the back -- nothing would stop him now.
-o-
The thing about persistence was that it wasn’t always enough.
That seemed unreasonably annoying and kind of ironic. All the virtues people talked about. All this push for him to be sober, responsible and functional, and for what? He was still probably going to die an early and untimely death.
And, in this case, it was also probably going to be pretty painful and horrible. Sober Klaus was pretty sure that Pyro Klaus hadn’t thought about that when he went about starting fires all willy nilly. Arson was fun and all until you burned yourself alive.
Klaus would laugh because that was pretty hilarious but he was too busy suffocating from smoke inhalation to make it work.
Seriously, though, he was probably going to die. That was the one coherent thought he had as he climbed his way up the main staircase and turning toward the bedrooms. He’d barely made it a foot down the hall before the smoke threatened to consume him. The cloth over his face wasn’t making any difference now, and what was he going to do realistically? Search the whole wing on his hands and knees with his eyes closed? Search the whole house?
Five would be dead by the time Klaus found him.
And Klaus would be too dead to know how dead Five was.
Basically, this ended with death.
That was the order of things, then. Sobriety, power, responsibility and death. Cool and super cool and whatever.
“Klaus!”
That was probably death now, literally calling him by now.
“Klaus!”
With a groan, Klaus realized he was face first on the ground. He flopped over painfully, landing on his back. He tried opening his eyes but hacked instead.
“Klaus, wake up!”
“Shut up, Ben,” Klaus moaned, trying to flop over again when his eyes hurt too much. But his brother’s face was very close to his, and what it lacked in opacity, it made up for with intensity. “I’m trying to die here, can’t you see that?”
Ben didn’t laugh. “You have to get up!”
Klaus laughed, blowing out a huff of air that he couldn’t take fully into his lungs anyway. “Why?”
He was expecting some conviction about how life was worth, about how he finally got his life together and why would he want to waste it.
But instead, Ben shook his head. “Because I know where Five is.”
Klaus opened his eyes. He took a breath. Everything burned, but that was it. That was the only motivation he had left.
He sat up jerkily, putting the cloth back over his mouth again feebly. “Show me.”
And off they went.
-o-
The key to success, as a functional sober adult wasn’t really all that secret or special. All it was, you see, was not quitting. That was the heart of responsibility. Just not stopping. Not when it was hard, not when it hurt. Not when you really, really wanted to.
And Klaus wanted to now.
He really, really did.
Every movement felt like torture. He stopped often to clear his lungs, but the process got less and less effective. He was practically choking with every breath now, and the smoke was so thick that it had practically blinded him. This had seemed like a really good idea at the time…
Actually, no. It hadn’t. It had seemed like a shitty idea at the time, and it seemed even shittier now, and for what? For him to die without even saving Five? What was this whole deal about doing the right thing when it didn’t mean shit?
Maybe Addict Klaus had it right. Maybe Addict Klaus knew what he was doing.
Coughing violently, Klaus curled in on himself. He had no idea where he was by this point. He couldn’t see and his sense of direction was shot. He had no chance of finding Five like this. He did, however, have every chance of dying.
Maybe it was time for Sleeping Klaus. Sleeping Klaus was nice. Quiet, calm and--
“Keep going!” Ben yelled. “We’re almost there!”
That was really easy for Ben to say. The lucky bastard no longer had functioning lungs.
“Come on! Come on!”
Sleeping Klaus would have to wait. Addict Klaus would have to prove his shit another day. Klaus -- whatever version you liked -- got back on his hands and knees and went after his brother.
-o-
It seemed to take forever, and Klaus wasn’t feeling much like putting things in perspective at the moment. That required thought and energy, and truth be told, he was short on both. He was also short on oxygen, and he nearly passed out about five times in the last stretch. Ben’s exhortation gave him direction, but the desire to follow through on this whole responsibility thing was what kept him actually going.
Blindly, he felt through the hall. The smoke here was so thick that it was impossible to even see Ben. “You’re here! You’re here!”
There was wood floor here, which probably should have been some indication about where they were but Klaus honestly couldn’t remember. He’d climbed a set of stairs to get here, and he had a vague notion that it might be possible to roll his way back down. Of course, going down was only an option when he finished his objective.
His smoke-clogged nose seized up. He hacked and retched.
What was the objective anyway?
To prove himself?
To die?
No, Five.
He had to find Five.
For the five other siblings on the street, he had to find Five.
Five for five.
This family was so weird.
Five.
Reaching forward, he attempted to move clumsily down the hall after Ben’s voice. There was something in his path though. Something firm and awkwardly shaped. But still soft.
Oh shit.
“Five!” he called out, voice all but garbled by the gunk built up in his airway. He felt around Five’s shoe -- too small and too big -- and then worked his hand up the leg. The familiar cotton pajamas up to Five’s skinny torso. “Five!”
Leaning closer now, Klaus forced his eyes to open and clear. The air was black now, but as he dropped low enough he could just make out Five’s soot-covered pajamas. He ducked closer, leaning close to his brother’s face, using his own smudged fingers to try to smear away the soot. It didn’t work, but he dropped his head closer to Five’s face. There were still no flames, but the density of the smoke clouded his hearing, too. Still, Klaus waited for it, a small puff of air against his cheek.
He grinned.
That made him cough a lot, but he still grinned.
“He’s alive!” he said, looking up for Ben. Ben, thankfully, had stayed close by.
“Great!” Ben said. Concern creased his brow. “You think you can get him out of here by yourself?”
That was a silly question. Klaus had come this far, hadn’t he? He’d committed this much. Sober Klaus was now Responsible Klaus and Responsible Klaus followed through on his word, no exception. Come hell or high water.
And definitely come house fires caused by your own out of control powers.
Reaching around, he picked up Five’s limp form. Small as he was, he was still heavy and unwieldy. It was harder than he’d hoped to carry him, navigating through the smog without choking on the smoke while physically exerting himself.
“You bet your ass I can,” he said, dragging Five a few feet back down the smoke-filled hallway. “Just try to stop me.”
-o-
To be fair, Ben wasn’t going to try to stop him. Ben, in fact, was quite helpful, providing ongoing navigational clues that kept Klaus from wandering endless in circles.
Which, being totally candid, would totally have happened. Responsible Klaus still had no sense of direction.
What he did have, however, was motivation. Focus. Clarity.
The sense of purpose had cleared his mind. Sure, it still felt like he was breathing fire, but he held onto the keen sense of the pain and muddled through anyway. Yes, he felt like he was going to die from exhaustion, but he persisted. He had a definitive goal, a clear end point, and there was no way he was going to stop until he got there.
This wasn’t probably an actual superpower, but it felt far more practical than any of the other superpowers Klaus had exhibited to date. This whole fire thing wasn’t exactly doing much for him, and sure, it’d be nice if he could just float Five out of here but Levitation Klaus was kind of AWOL with Seance Klaus and Conduit Klaus.
And Responsible Klaus could do this.
He would. Because Responsible Klaus was Determined Klaus. It was Committed Klaus. It was Don’t-Mess-Around-With-Me-Today-I’m-Going-to-Save-Lives Klaus. That Klaus.
He needed all those Klaus to do this. His lungs felt like they were filled with lead now, and his head felt light. His vision was sporadic, and he had to rely on Ben entirely to keep him from running into walls and falling down stairs. Five had apparently made it about halfway across the house -- no doubt, his idiot brother had been trying to find him when he turned up as the last sibling to show at the east entrance. Self sacrifice, as it turned out, was a family trait.
“This way! We’re almost there!” Ben called to him, dragging him through the smog. It felt like he was in mud now, dragging his feet forward step by step. He was too weak to lift Five up, and his back ached from dragging him, inch by inch toward the exit.
“Come on, Five,” he muttered, tripping his way down the stairs.
“You’re in the front hall!” Ben yelled, and he sounded excited. “Just a little farther!”
A little farther felt like miles. It felt like moving halfway across the whole damn planet. His progress was slow, Five’s deadweight dragging him down step by step. Addict Klaus would have quit by now, no questions asked. Pyro Klaus and Levitation Klaus were worthless, honestly. Seance Klaus and Conduit Klaus probably would have thrown in the towel, too. Sober Klaus was barely holding on, but Responsible Klaus had this under control.
Because sometimes there wasn’t an easy out.
Sometimes you just had to do the work.
And sometimes -- Klaus had to believe, needed to believe -- sometimes it actually paid off.
Klaus all but fell through the front door. It burst open, and he came tumbling out. He nearly lost his balance at the top of the stoop, Five’s weight throwing his equilibrium off. He hacked a few times in the billows of smoke that followed him out, but then, he inhaled.
Short, sharp and glorious. The night air was more intoxicating than any drug he’d ever tried. It filled his lungs; he could feel it in his brain. It enlivened his senses, and it felt it tingle down his arms, down his back, all the way to his toes.
Shit.
Klaus was alive.
Klaus was alive.
The rush of adrenaline got him down a few steps, but that was the thing with highs. Sober Klaus probably kind of forgot about that part, but Addict Klaus knew it. The higher the high, the lower the low. And Klaus crashed -- physically and metaphorically -- as he hit the sidewalk in front of the mansion.
His knees were buckling, and his throat had seized up. He coughed, arms trembling from exertion as he tried to control his collapse. His vision still hadn’t quite cleared, but he could just make out Five’s face as they spiraled toward the ground together.
Addict Klaus fell a lot.
A lot a lot.
But when Sober Klaus fell?
There was someone there to catch him.
A bunch of someones, actually.
A family.
Hero Klaus, was that a thing?
Strong arms supported him, someone leaned into him to keep him upright. Gentle touch took Five away, cradling his body close.
Klaus coughed and closed his eyes, forcing a harrowing breath in and out through his nose.
“You’re okay, Klaus.”
“We got you.”
“You did it, you saved Five.”
“We’re here.”
Yeah, Klaus decided. Hero Klaus is definitely a thing.
-o-
Hero Klaus was tired. He hurt. And he was just really so, so tired.
But Hero Klaus wasn’t alone. Not when Responsible Klaus was still kicking around.
And damn it, that guy wouldn’t shut up. Klaus was well on his way to some type of blissful unconsciousness after having a hell of a night, but Responsible Klaus was there, lurking in the background. Asking if he was sure he’d succeeded. Was he sure things were okay? Was Five all right? Was he?
The guy was so annoying that Klaus put Sleeping Klaus aside and went ahead and opened his eyes.
And shit.
He felt horrible.
Conscious now, his throat was raw. His chest was tight, and he felt nauseated. His eyes burned and his lips were chapped. He was sitting, propped up against Luther’s chest. Nearby, Diego had Five leaned up against him and Allison was leaning in front of them, looking concerned. Vanya was standing not far away, looking like she’d been crying.
Klaus tried to speak, but all that came out was garbled nonsense that ending up with a coughing fit that nearly had him blacking out again. Luther restrained him gently, but Determined Klaus was back. He had no delusions that he might actually overpower Luther physically, but Luther had nothing on Determined Klaus. With careful support, he got himself upright, moving closer to where Allison was examining Five.
“Is he okay?” he croaked. “Is he--”
“Breathing,” Allison confirmed. “I can’t get him to wake up, though.”
“Fire department is around the other way,” Diego said, nodding around the corner. “Pogo and Mom are holding them off, but if we think Five needs a hospital--”
Klaus wasn’t sure about that because there was no Doctor Klaus anywhere, nor would there ever be, but he didn’t need to be a doctor.
All he needed to be was a brother.
“Five,” he said, reaching his shaky, numb fingers toward his brother. He wrapped them in the soiled fabric of Five’s ridiculous pajamas. “Five, wake up.”
His siblings, you see, they had always tolerated Addict Klaus. They had liked Sober Klaus. They were learning to deal with Levitation Klaus and Pyro Klaus.
But Hero Klaus?
Well, they’d do anything for Hero Klaus.
Because they knew Hero Klaus would do anything for them.
Including running through a burning building,
Especially running through a burning building.
“Five!”
It was a horrible, wheezy sound, the last Klaus had left.
The thing was -- and this was the thing that mattered -- it worked.
Five shuddered under his touch, and he trembled at the invective. His eyelids fluttered, and with a ragged inhalation, he started coughly. The racking coughs shook him as Diego held him, and Allison stroked his hair out of his eyes while he cleared the soot out of his airway and tried breathing again.
“Hey!” Klaus crooned, his voice gaining strength as he smiled widely. “Your back!”
Five weakly coughed again, squinting up at him in obvious pain. He glanced from Klaus to the others and back again. “Where were you?” he rasped.
“Uh, sticking to the plan,” Klaus said. “What about you? What were you doing?”
Five winced and visibly made no effort to sit up on his own just yet, which was a pretty good indication of how bad he felt right now. “I came after you.”
“Huh, that’s funny, because that’s what I had to do for you,” Klaus said. “Who would have thought, huh? That’d I’d be the one to get it right.”
Five huffed, eyelids fluttering back sleepily as he cleared his throat. “And clearly you’re not going to let it go to your head.”
“Well, I’m just saying,” he said. “Apparently great power is great responsibility.”
Five groaned. “This isn’t a comic book, asshole.”
Klaus grinned back at him. “It might as well be,” he said. “I mean it took some time, some work, some practice, some discipline--” He looked at his siblings each in turn before smiling at Five again. “--but I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of this thing.”
You could call it being a superhero.
You could call it being an adult.
You could call it being responsible.
Or you could just call it being human.
See, Pyro Klaus was sketchy. Sober Klaus was here to stay. And Hero Klaus, as it turned out, was really pretty cool.
The best one, though, by far is Brother Klaus.
No further explanations needed.