Umbrella Academy fic: Changing All the Scenery (4/20)
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
FOUR
Klaus knows the others are all in knots about the whole end of the world thing, and Klaus tries to care, he does, but he doesn’t. He has the inclination to go get high, like, now, but he keeps thinking about Dave’s laugh. That’s not fair, comparing Dave’s laugh to getting high, but that’s the way it is.
Life, after all, really has never been fair, especially not where Klaus Hargreeves is involved.
He has Diego tie him up, letting the hours stretch by as he screams himself hoarse. No one’s listening; no one’s ever listening.
The world tilts sideways and Klaus crashes to the ground. He’s struggling for air when his eyes crack open and he sees the most beautiful thing in the entire world.
Standing there, across the distance, is Dave.
He’s smiling.
“It worked,” Klaus cries in relief. “I did it.”
Eternity in a second.
Klaus blinks.
It’s gone again.
FOUR, TAKE TWO
Klaus knows the others are all in knots about the whole end of the world thing, and Klaus tries to care, he does, but he doesn’t. He has the inclination to go get high, like, now, but he keeps thinking about Dave’s laugh. That’s not fair, comparing Dave’s laugh to getting high, but that’s the way it is.
Life, after all, really has never been fair, especially not where Klaus Hargreeves is involved.
He looks for Diego, but Diego’s gone. He runs into Luther, but Luther is having a metacognitive identity crisis of his own. It’s a weird sort of thing, Klaus being the stable one, and Klaus might feel like gloating if he weren’t so busy trying to make sure that the big guy didn’t go to little pieces right before his still not quite sober eyes.
He feels like somebody told him once that there are better ways to get sober.
Chasing Luther down to save him from himself is not the one he would have picked, that much is for sure.
-o-
Still.
Still.
Klaus is an addict with questionable control over his powers. He’s unreliable and he’s a petty thief, and he’ll lie through his teeth if it’ll help him. But he’s not the world’s worst brother.
At least, not today.
-o-
You might think that finding a large half monkey who spent four years on the moon would be easy.
Not so, however.
Klaus wastes most of the day on it, finding himself increasingly restless as he and Ben meander from one likely destination to the next. He’s ready to give up when someone talks about a crazy hairy dude and Klaus thinks maybe he’s gotten lucky.
Inside a rave full of drugs and alcohol, luck is a matter of perspective.
-o-
He finds Luther, at least. Getting home isn’t going to be easy, not with Luther being high as a kite and flirting with anything that smiles. Oh, and the thing that smiles? She has a boyfriend. You know how Klaus knows? Because he’s looking to kill Luther.
It’s pretty stupid. That punch, that stupid little punch, probably wouldn’t have made Luther stumbles. It catches Klaus across the jaw and he goes down, head smacking on the floor.
That’s it, then.
For a second, all Klaus can think is thank God.
-o-
Another second passes. He opens his eyes and finds himself standing. He realizes he can’t actually thank God because he’s not sure if he believes in God and what the hell is he doing here, standing in front of God?
These thoughts occur belatedly and out of order.
As it turns out, God doesn’t much care.
She treats him with about as much patience as everyone else, which is to say, none at all. She does, however, point him in a new direction and says there’s someone who wants to talk to him.
Klaus can’t think of anyone who wants to talk to him.
No, scratch that.
He can think of one person. But that person is dead and has been dead for, like, 40 years.
Which is convenient because Klaus, as it turns out, happens to be dead, too. So even if he’s not sober, they’re at least on even playing ground, and Klaus thinks it for a second time.
Thank God.
And he hurries to meet Dave.
-o-
Yeah, so the weird little shack in the woods of the afterlife is a barbershop. That’s all pretty weird, but Klaus sits down for a shave and it’s going really well until he realizes he’s not being shaved by the only man he’s ever loved.
No, he’s being shaved by his old man.
Reginald Hargreeves takes time to chew Klaus out for being a total failure in life, blah, blah, blah. Klaus listens with resignation because this seems pretty much typical.
And he still can’t shake the thought, though. This weird, nagging thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
It is what it is, though.
There’s nothing Klaus can do about that.
-o-
Klaus goes home that night and he’s not dead.
He’s also not drunk or high.
In fact, Klaus goes home that night and he’s sober.
This is quite a revelation, and he’s just sober enough to realize that he’s not sure what he wants to do with that. He decides, pending the apocalypse, that maybe he’ll stay sober and pull his weight.
Who knows?
It might actually make a difference.
-o-
No one believes him, sadly. Everyone doubts him. When shit starts to go down, they put him on lookout patrol. Just because he nearly screws that up doesn’t mean that he’s a total failure, and he makes up for it by running in, heedless of danger, to warn them like a true hero would. Then, it turns out, he’s sober enough to channel Ben, and Ben’s powerful enough to dispatch, like, everyone, turning a hopeless situation into one that actually seems plausible.
Of course, Vanya still stops them and ends the world, so that’s kind of a bummer.
Five, though, has a plan. Klaus wonders why this plan is just coming up now, but everyone else is suddenly cool with the idea of time travel, and Klaus has no idea why, but what else is he supposed to say?
He does, after all, when you get right down to it, trust Five.
That’s what counts, right?
Five will do this right.
Five will take them all into account.
Five will make this work.
Klaus kisses his dog tags and tucks them under his shirt. Then, he reaches out, grabs his siblings hands and feels as Five’s power starts to encompass them all. It’s not the same as the briefcase, but the feeling of electricity as it dances across his skin is all to familiar. The synapses are alight in his brain, and he feels it surge down through his spine until the energy tingles in his fingers and toes. He’s aware, if only vaguely, of the way he’s being pulled apart. He’s cognizant of the powerful effect of time as it presses you down and stretches you out. He finds all versions of himself, past, present and future, and they exist simultaneously in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.
This can’t be as bad as it was before, Klaus thinks fleeting as he’s torn apart.
Can it?
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
FOUR
Klaus knows the others are all in knots about the whole end of the world thing, and Klaus tries to care, he does, but he doesn’t. He has the inclination to go get high, like, now, but he keeps thinking about Dave’s laugh. That’s not fair, comparing Dave’s laugh to getting high, but that’s the way it is.
Life, after all, really has never been fair, especially not where Klaus Hargreeves is involved.
He has Diego tie him up, letting the hours stretch by as he screams himself hoarse. No one’s listening; no one’s ever listening.
The world tilts sideways and Klaus crashes to the ground. He’s struggling for air when his eyes crack open and he sees the most beautiful thing in the entire world.
Standing there, across the distance, is Dave.
He’s smiling.
“It worked,” Klaus cries in relief. “I did it.”
Eternity in a second.
Klaus blinks.
It’s gone again.
FOUR, TAKE TWO
Klaus knows the others are all in knots about the whole end of the world thing, and Klaus tries to care, he does, but he doesn’t. He has the inclination to go get high, like, now, but he keeps thinking about Dave’s laugh. That’s not fair, comparing Dave’s laugh to getting high, but that’s the way it is.
Life, after all, really has never been fair, especially not where Klaus Hargreeves is involved.
He looks for Diego, but Diego’s gone. He runs into Luther, but Luther is having a metacognitive identity crisis of his own. It’s a weird sort of thing, Klaus being the stable one, and Klaus might feel like gloating if he weren’t so busy trying to make sure that the big guy didn’t go to little pieces right before his still not quite sober eyes.
He feels like somebody told him once that there are better ways to get sober.
Chasing Luther down to save him from himself is not the one he would have picked, that much is for sure.
-o-
Still.
Still.
Klaus is an addict with questionable control over his powers. He’s unreliable and he’s a petty thief, and he’ll lie through his teeth if it’ll help him. But he’s not the world’s worst brother.
At least, not today.
-o-
You might think that finding a large half monkey who spent four years on the moon would be easy.
Not so, however.
Klaus wastes most of the day on it, finding himself increasingly restless as he and Ben meander from one likely destination to the next. He’s ready to give up when someone talks about a crazy hairy dude and Klaus thinks maybe he’s gotten lucky.
Inside a rave full of drugs and alcohol, luck is a matter of perspective.
-o-
He finds Luther, at least. Getting home isn’t going to be easy, not with Luther being high as a kite and flirting with anything that smiles. Oh, and the thing that smiles? She has a boyfriend. You know how Klaus knows? Because he’s looking to kill Luther.
It’s pretty stupid. That punch, that stupid little punch, probably wouldn’t have made Luther stumbles. It catches Klaus across the jaw and he goes down, head smacking on the floor.
That’s it, then.
For a second, all Klaus can think is thank God.
-o-
Another second passes. He opens his eyes and finds himself standing. He realizes he can’t actually thank God because he’s not sure if he believes in God and what the hell is he doing here, standing in front of God?
These thoughts occur belatedly and out of order.
As it turns out, God doesn’t much care.
She treats him with about as much patience as everyone else, which is to say, none at all. She does, however, point him in a new direction and says there’s someone who wants to talk to him.
Klaus can’t think of anyone who wants to talk to him.
No, scratch that.
He can think of one person. But that person is dead and has been dead for, like, 40 years.
Which is convenient because Klaus, as it turns out, happens to be dead, too. So even if he’s not sober, they’re at least on even playing ground, and Klaus thinks it for a second time.
Thank God.
And he hurries to meet Dave.
-o-
Yeah, so the weird little shack in the woods of the afterlife is a barbershop. That’s all pretty weird, but Klaus sits down for a shave and it’s going really well until he realizes he’s not being shaved by the only man he’s ever loved.
No, he’s being shaved by his old man.
Reginald Hargreeves takes time to chew Klaus out for being a total failure in life, blah, blah, blah. Klaus listens with resignation because this seems pretty much typical.
And he still can’t shake the thought, though. This weird, nagging thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
It is what it is, though.
There’s nothing Klaus can do about that.
-o-
Klaus goes home that night and he’s not dead.
He’s also not drunk or high.
In fact, Klaus goes home that night and he’s sober.
This is quite a revelation, and he’s just sober enough to realize that he’s not sure what he wants to do with that. He decides, pending the apocalypse, that maybe he’ll stay sober and pull his weight.
Who knows?
It might actually make a difference.
-o-
No one believes him, sadly. Everyone doubts him. When shit starts to go down, they put him on lookout patrol. Just because he nearly screws that up doesn’t mean that he’s a total failure, and he makes up for it by running in, heedless of danger, to warn them like a true hero would. Then, it turns out, he’s sober enough to channel Ben, and Ben’s powerful enough to dispatch, like, everyone, turning a hopeless situation into one that actually seems plausible.
Of course, Vanya still stops them and ends the world, so that’s kind of a bummer.
Five, though, has a plan. Klaus wonders why this plan is just coming up now, but everyone else is suddenly cool with the idea of time travel, and Klaus has no idea why, but what else is he supposed to say?
He does, after all, when you get right down to it, trust Five.
That’s what counts, right?
Five will do this right.
Five will take them all into account.
Five will make this work.
Klaus kisses his dog tags and tucks them under his shirt. Then, he reaches out, grabs his siblings hands and feels as Five’s power starts to encompass them all. It’s not the same as the briefcase, but the feeling of electricity as it dances across his skin is all to familiar. The synapses are alight in his brain, and he feels it surge down through his spine until the energy tingles in his fingers and toes. He’s aware, if only vaguely, of the way he’s being pulled apart. He’s cognizant of the powerful effect of time as it presses you down and stretches you out. He finds all versions of himself, past, present and future, and they exist simultaneously in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.
This can’t be as bad as it was before, Klaus thinks fleeting as he’s torn apart.
Can it?