Umbrella Academy fic: Changing All the Scenery (2/20)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
TWO
Klaus has lost his father, and that’s sad, it is. It’s traumatic, and he’ll tell the sob story to anyone who will listen, especially if they’ll buy him a drink. Or dinner. Or basically anything. Because people feel sorry for you when your father dies, and it doesn’t matter if you’re father’s a saint or an asshole, they always mean it when they say I’m sorry.
Klaus is a little sorry, too, for the record. His old man was a sadistic bastard who is to blame for every problem in Klaus life, but he’s sentimental about things. It was his father.
Still, he lost a father and gained a brother again! True, it would have been more convenient if Ben had been brought to life so Klaus could finally get some privacy, but it’s still nice that Five’s not dead. Klaus has tried to conjure him, on and off when he’s been sober enough to try and not sober enough to try, so he’s always held out hope that maybe their wayward sibling was alive, and he takes some comfort in knowing that his failure to conjure Five isn’t because he sucks with his powers.
Also, yes, because that means Five’s not dead and yadda, yadda, yadda. As has already been established, Klaus is the sentimental sort, and he has many fond memories of Five being an arrogant prick, so, you know, nostalgia.
Plus, he thinks eagerly when Diego ditches him later, that means there’s one more sibling around to con out of quick cash. And since this one hasn’t been around in 15 or 45 years, depending on your perspective, he may not realize right away that Klaus should never be trusted with money.
Or, you know, anything valuable.
This seems like good fortune when Five offers him 20 bucks to be his dad or some such nonsense. Klaus says yes before he’s calculated the going rate for drugs on the street before subtracting out a few bucks for a hot meal at the worst diner he knows.
Five has his reasons and they’re probably crazy and weird.
Whatever. Klaus has his reasons, too.
Five would say his are better because of math! And logic! And who the hell cares!
Klaus knows his are way more important.
-o-
Okay, so Klaus gets a little into it.
It’s been a long time since he’s been on the job, and sure, he doesn’t know what the hell the big deal is about this eye, but it’s been years since someone trusted him to do anything except be a screw up, so why not rise to the occasion?
Alternatively, Klaus has forgotten just how motivated he can be for instant cash.
Either way, his work is pretty impressive, thank you very much. He thinks he’s more than earned that 20 bucks.
Five, however, has other ideas.
Asshole.
He thinks that results actually matter. Hasn’t he ever heard of giving A’s for effort? No, probably not, but you would think that 30 years in the apocalypse would soften him a little. They could have bonded, Five and Diego. Talking about their longest relationships and terrifying innocent people. If that’s not the shit family’s are made of, then Klaus doesn’t know what is.
At any rate, Five blinks away and Klaus is on his own again.
Bastard.
Klaus would hate the little prick if he didn’t love him so damn much.
-o-
That is that. It’s not the first time Klaus has been screwed over and it probably won’t be the last, and if Klaus held a grudge against everyone who lied to him, then he would hate everyone. Hate is too tedious. It requires energy and focus, and really, who has the patience for that?
No, it’ll take a lot more for Klaus to actually resent any of his siblings. Even dear old -- tiny -- Number Five.
Klaus hums to himself, runs a bath and puts his headphones on. It’s not a quick hit and a warm stack of pancakes, but beggars can never be choosers. He’d know, after all. He’s tried. He’s tried everything. He’s tried.
When some oaf smacks him upside the head and drags him, kicking and screaming, out the front door, somehow it seems like he’ll never be able to try hard enough.
-o-
And then it gets worse.
That’s the story of Klaus’ life, you see. Things are bad. Then, miraculously, things get worse. It defies the odds, it really does, but Klaus has lived too long to actually be surprised by it anymore.
Life’s a shit-fest, is all.
Klaus is just along for the ride.
-o-
Waterboarding, suffocation, beating, torture.
Blah, blah, blah.
It’s when they take the drugs that Klaus breaks. He’s not proud of it, but when has that been a marker for anything in his life? No, this is about survival. That’s all. Five, of all people, will understand.
And, even if he doesn’t, who’s to say it matters? Klaus would trade any of his siblings for a hit -- Luther, twice, on Sundays -- and the thing is, they’d see it coming. It wouldn’t surprise them. At this point, he hardly think they’d hold it against him.
Also, there’s waterboarding, suffocation, beating, torture.
Who the hell cares if it’s the drugs that make him speak?
-o-
Dying is easier, sure. Most of the time, Klaus tries to do stuff the easy way. Most of the time, it doesn’t actually work.
So, go figure? Someone actually comes to rescue him.
And, go figure again? She takes one to the chest.
That’s shitty, and Klaus knows it, but he’s too busy escaping to see if there’s anything he can do. Her death can’t be in vain, he decides.
Dying is easier, but Klaus has talked to too many dead people to want to hang out with them permanently.
-o-
That’s when he finds the briefcase.
It’s some stupid briefcase, shoved into some stupid vent. At first, it’s in his way. But then, it’s a briefcase. Briefcases are filled with things. If you’re taking the time to shove it in a vent, that means you’re hiding it. You don’t hide worthless pieces of trash. Therefore, this briefcase is probably valuable.
He’s just survived kidnapping and torture.
He deserves a break.
Whatever is in this briefcase can surely get him that.
-o-
Clad in a towel, he begs his way onto a city bus. He sits down opposite a plump lady who smiles at him. Klaus smiles back.
He’s feeling giddy, honestly. A little light headed. He wants a hit; he needs it.
Maybe the right thing to do is to check in with his siblings, let them know he’s okay. Someone did send the cop, after all. Maybe they were looking for him. Maybe they were worried.
Klaus has his doubts, though.
What he doesn’t have doubts about is that today has been a bad day. A long, hard, generally bad day. Klaus doesn’t like bad days. In fact, he actively tries to forget they happen at all. There’s just one way to salvage this, one way to turn it around.
He’s still looking for his escape, after all. Sure, he can get away from kidnapping and torture, but what about the rest? What about all of it?
He coos at the briefcase and strokes it. He winks at the woman across from him, then unlatches the lock.
He thinks he’s ready for whatever comes next.
A light engulfs him, muffling the scream in his throat as the air is forced out of his lungs. He’s compressed and torn apart, and he’s tumbling headlong into nothingness.
Go figure: he’s wrong about that, too.
-o-
Klaus doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but they put him in a pair of fatigues, give him a gun and tell him not to shoot himself. This seems woefully ineffective, but he finds it to be strangely useful when he’s put in a field with bullets flying at him.
He’s talked to people who have been in war. The problem is, most of those people had been killed in battle. So Klaus knows a lot about how to die.
He’s still got no idea how to live, unfortunately.
-o-
The thing is, Klaus doesn’t die. He survives the battle and his unit is moved out. They end up with a night off in some town Klaus can’t pronounce the name of, and he follows some of the other men to the disco. He drinks and dances and then, somehow, he falls in love.
Dave.
His name is Dave.
The briefcase is tucked back in the barracks, alongside the paperwork some strained XO had mustered up for him. It doesn’t seem to occur to them that he’s not supposed to be there. No one is supposed to be there; they’re not on guard for imposters.
Klaus isn’t sure if any of this is real, if he’s really somehow been transported back to Vietnam, but Dave’s lips, crushed up against his, seem real enough.
-o-
Logic would dictate that Klaus go back, open the briefcase, and figure out a way home. This is a war zone, after all. They’re putting him on the front lines, and he’s never been particularly good at following orders. His family is out there somewhere, and they could be wondering where he is.
The thing is that Klaus isn’t really at the war.
No, Klaus is pressed against Dave, the air coming from his lungs in a rush. He closes his eyes and moans.
“I love you,” he says.
It’s the first time in years he’s told the truth.
Logic can be damned.
-o-
The truth, though, is a dangerous thing. It’s not always that it hurts you, that it slams into you like a wrecking ball right then and there. It’s that the truth leaves you nowhere to hide. Klaus doesn’t like the truth. He doesn’t like to look at its rawness, its nakedness. The dead people Klaus sees, they always want him to know the truth. They want to tell him, in graphic detail, how they died. They tell him how much it hurt, how much they miss their family, how they would give anything for one more chance.
Truth is something you have to grapple with.
Or, alternatively, truth is something you just have to surrender to.
In either case, Klaus is nowhere near prepared for what comes next. And it’s sure as hell not a wrecking ball.
But a sniper’s bullet, right to the chest.
Dave’s the one who takes the bullet and bleeds out.
Klaus is pretty sure he dies all the same.
-o-
After that, time is irrelevant.
After that, everything is irrelevant.
He runs from the frontline, runs back as far as he can. When that’s not far enough, he looks at the briefcase that is somehow in his hands. He’s dragged it with him, all this way. His emergency exit. When he’s out of places to go, he opens it up.
Wherever it takes him has got to be better than this.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
TWO
Klaus has lost his father, and that’s sad, it is. It’s traumatic, and he’ll tell the sob story to anyone who will listen, especially if they’ll buy him a drink. Or dinner. Or basically anything. Because people feel sorry for you when your father dies, and it doesn’t matter if you’re father’s a saint or an asshole, they always mean it when they say I’m sorry.
Klaus is a little sorry, too, for the record. His old man was a sadistic bastard who is to blame for every problem in Klaus life, but he’s sentimental about things. It was his father.
Still, he lost a father and gained a brother again! True, it would have been more convenient if Ben had been brought to life so Klaus could finally get some privacy, but it’s still nice that Five’s not dead. Klaus has tried to conjure him, on and off when he’s been sober enough to try and not sober enough to try, so he’s always held out hope that maybe their wayward sibling was alive, and he takes some comfort in knowing that his failure to conjure Five isn’t because he sucks with his powers.
Also, yes, because that means Five’s not dead and yadda, yadda, yadda. As has already been established, Klaus is the sentimental sort, and he has many fond memories of Five being an arrogant prick, so, you know, nostalgia.
Plus, he thinks eagerly when Diego ditches him later, that means there’s one more sibling around to con out of quick cash. And since this one hasn’t been around in 15 or 45 years, depending on your perspective, he may not realize right away that Klaus should never be trusted with money.
Or, you know, anything valuable.
This seems like good fortune when Five offers him 20 bucks to be his dad or some such nonsense. Klaus says yes before he’s calculated the going rate for drugs on the street before subtracting out a few bucks for a hot meal at the worst diner he knows.
Five has his reasons and they’re probably crazy and weird.
Whatever. Klaus has his reasons, too.
Five would say his are better because of math! And logic! And who the hell cares!
Klaus knows his are way more important.
-o-
Okay, so Klaus gets a little into it.
It’s been a long time since he’s been on the job, and sure, he doesn’t know what the hell the big deal is about this eye, but it’s been years since someone trusted him to do anything except be a screw up, so why not rise to the occasion?
Alternatively, Klaus has forgotten just how motivated he can be for instant cash.
Either way, his work is pretty impressive, thank you very much. He thinks he’s more than earned that 20 bucks.
Five, however, has other ideas.
Asshole.
He thinks that results actually matter. Hasn’t he ever heard of giving A’s for effort? No, probably not, but you would think that 30 years in the apocalypse would soften him a little. They could have bonded, Five and Diego. Talking about their longest relationships and terrifying innocent people. If that’s not the shit family’s are made of, then Klaus doesn’t know what is.
At any rate, Five blinks away and Klaus is on his own again.
Bastard.
Klaus would hate the little prick if he didn’t love him so damn much.
-o-
That is that. It’s not the first time Klaus has been screwed over and it probably won’t be the last, and if Klaus held a grudge against everyone who lied to him, then he would hate everyone. Hate is too tedious. It requires energy and focus, and really, who has the patience for that?
No, it’ll take a lot more for Klaus to actually resent any of his siblings. Even dear old -- tiny -- Number Five.
Klaus hums to himself, runs a bath and puts his headphones on. It’s not a quick hit and a warm stack of pancakes, but beggars can never be choosers. He’d know, after all. He’s tried. He’s tried everything. He’s tried.
When some oaf smacks him upside the head and drags him, kicking and screaming, out the front door, somehow it seems like he’ll never be able to try hard enough.
-o-
And then it gets worse.
That’s the story of Klaus’ life, you see. Things are bad. Then, miraculously, things get worse. It defies the odds, it really does, but Klaus has lived too long to actually be surprised by it anymore.
Life’s a shit-fest, is all.
Klaus is just along for the ride.
-o-
Waterboarding, suffocation, beating, torture.
Blah, blah, blah.
It’s when they take the drugs that Klaus breaks. He’s not proud of it, but when has that been a marker for anything in his life? No, this is about survival. That’s all. Five, of all people, will understand.
And, even if he doesn’t, who’s to say it matters? Klaus would trade any of his siblings for a hit -- Luther, twice, on Sundays -- and the thing is, they’d see it coming. It wouldn’t surprise them. At this point, he hardly think they’d hold it against him.
Also, there’s waterboarding, suffocation, beating, torture.
Who the hell cares if it’s the drugs that make him speak?
-o-
Dying is easier, sure. Most of the time, Klaus tries to do stuff the easy way. Most of the time, it doesn’t actually work.
So, go figure? Someone actually comes to rescue him.
And, go figure again? She takes one to the chest.
That’s shitty, and Klaus knows it, but he’s too busy escaping to see if there’s anything he can do. Her death can’t be in vain, he decides.
Dying is easier, but Klaus has talked to too many dead people to want to hang out with them permanently.
-o-
That’s when he finds the briefcase.
It’s some stupid briefcase, shoved into some stupid vent. At first, it’s in his way. But then, it’s a briefcase. Briefcases are filled with things. If you’re taking the time to shove it in a vent, that means you’re hiding it. You don’t hide worthless pieces of trash. Therefore, this briefcase is probably valuable.
He’s just survived kidnapping and torture.
He deserves a break.
Whatever is in this briefcase can surely get him that.
-o-
Clad in a towel, he begs his way onto a city bus. He sits down opposite a plump lady who smiles at him. Klaus smiles back.
He’s feeling giddy, honestly. A little light headed. He wants a hit; he needs it.
Maybe the right thing to do is to check in with his siblings, let them know he’s okay. Someone did send the cop, after all. Maybe they were looking for him. Maybe they were worried.
Klaus has his doubts, though.
What he doesn’t have doubts about is that today has been a bad day. A long, hard, generally bad day. Klaus doesn’t like bad days. In fact, he actively tries to forget they happen at all. There’s just one way to salvage this, one way to turn it around.
He’s still looking for his escape, after all. Sure, he can get away from kidnapping and torture, but what about the rest? What about all of it?
He coos at the briefcase and strokes it. He winks at the woman across from him, then unlatches the lock.
He thinks he’s ready for whatever comes next.
A light engulfs him, muffling the scream in his throat as the air is forced out of his lungs. He’s compressed and torn apart, and he’s tumbling headlong into nothingness.
Go figure: he’s wrong about that, too.
-o-
Klaus doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but they put him in a pair of fatigues, give him a gun and tell him not to shoot himself. This seems woefully ineffective, but he finds it to be strangely useful when he’s put in a field with bullets flying at him.
He’s talked to people who have been in war. The problem is, most of those people had been killed in battle. So Klaus knows a lot about how to die.
He’s still got no idea how to live, unfortunately.
-o-
The thing is, Klaus doesn’t die. He survives the battle and his unit is moved out. They end up with a night off in some town Klaus can’t pronounce the name of, and he follows some of the other men to the disco. He drinks and dances and then, somehow, he falls in love.
Dave.
His name is Dave.
The briefcase is tucked back in the barracks, alongside the paperwork some strained XO had mustered up for him. It doesn’t seem to occur to them that he’s not supposed to be there. No one is supposed to be there; they’re not on guard for imposters.
Klaus isn’t sure if any of this is real, if he’s really somehow been transported back to Vietnam, but Dave’s lips, crushed up against his, seem real enough.
-o-
Logic would dictate that Klaus go back, open the briefcase, and figure out a way home. This is a war zone, after all. They’re putting him on the front lines, and he’s never been particularly good at following orders. His family is out there somewhere, and they could be wondering where he is.
The thing is that Klaus isn’t really at the war.
No, Klaus is pressed against Dave, the air coming from his lungs in a rush. He closes his eyes and moans.
“I love you,” he says.
It’s the first time in years he’s told the truth.
Logic can be damned.
-o-
The truth, though, is a dangerous thing. It’s not always that it hurts you, that it slams into you like a wrecking ball right then and there. It’s that the truth leaves you nowhere to hide. Klaus doesn’t like the truth. He doesn’t like to look at its rawness, its nakedness. The dead people Klaus sees, they always want him to know the truth. They want to tell him, in graphic detail, how they died. They tell him how much it hurt, how much they miss their family, how they would give anything for one more chance.
Truth is something you have to grapple with.
Or, alternatively, truth is something you just have to surrender to.
In either case, Klaus is nowhere near prepared for what comes next. And it’s sure as hell not a wrecking ball.
But a sniper’s bullet, right to the chest.
Dave’s the one who takes the bullet and bleeds out.
Klaus is pretty sure he dies all the same.
-o-
After that, time is irrelevant.
After that, everything is irrelevant.
He runs from the frontline, runs back as far as he can. When that’s not far enough, he looks at the briefcase that is somehow in his hands. He’s dragged it with him, all this way. His emergency exit. When he’s out of places to go, he opens it up.
Wherever it takes him has got to be better than this.