terriblymisguided (
terriblymisguided) wrote2022-06-27 02:02 pm
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death is but the next great adventure
Klaus has a funny relationship with death. Mostly, he's a little surprised that after a childhood spent being a rather worthless superhero, followed by over a decade of addiction and one stupid decision after another, death hasn't come for him yet. It's sort of a miracle that he's even stayed alive this long, given the circumstances .
There have been close calls, of course. Perhaps none closer than that night with Luther where he struck his head against a cement floor and went to wherever that was where he spoke with that bitchy child and his bitchier father.
It had even gotten to the point where Klaus thought that maybe he'd end up cheating death entirely, but it seems that he was wrong about that. Death will come for him. He thinks maybe it's coming for him now.
Death is at the front of his mind, but that isn't surprising. What else is there to think about when you're bleeding out on the sidewalk?
It all happens very fast.
Klaus is walking along the street, sipping iced coffee and gesticulating wildly as he recounts an embellished story about a drag king he'd befriended in Amsterdam, when suddenly there's a wild cacophony of sound. A peaceful afternoon is disrupted when a car runs a red light and crashes into the side of another car, sending it spinning wildly into the front of a bakery just a few yards from where they're standing.
Glass and metal explode outward and litter the ground, which startles Klaus enough that he drops his iced coffee. The plastic breaks as it hits the pavement and the coffee spills, sending the liquid outward to follow the patterns of cracks and grooves in the sidewalk.
"That was a close one, huh?" Klaus says to the person next to him, but his voice sounds strange. His throat tickles and when he tries to clear it, the taste of copper fills his mouth and he coughs a little in surprise, blinking as blood trickles out from the corner of his mouth.
He hears a scream and coughs again, starting to shake as he tips his head down to look at his chest. There's so much blood there suddenly, pumping out of a hole in his chest and staining the thin pink tee that he's wearing. It spreads outwards like the coffee on the ground, growing and taking over whatever dry space it can reach.
Klaus reaches up to touch his trembling fingers to the edge of the jagged wound, coughing again as he slowly turns to look behind him. There's a piece of metal on the ground, rebar shrapnel, and it too is covered in crimson red. “Fuck.”
It's only once he realizes what's happened that it starts to hurt, and he feels like a child that's fallen down but doesn't start to cry until he spots the blood on his knee. It hurts so bad that Klaus can't breathe, or maybe that's because his lungs are filling up with blood.
He gives the person next to him a panicked look and then stumbles backwards, collapsing back onto the pavement and staring up at the sky. There's blood in his throat, pooling in his mouth until he chokes, and a part of him wants to laugh.
All those dangerous missions, all those years ruining himself with drugs. Multiple apocalypses. Frontline combat in Vietnam. All of that and this is how he's going to go-- random happenstance. A horrible accident. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so fucking depressing.
"I'm sorry," he chokes out to the person kneeling at his side, because he loves them and he doesn't want them to have to deal with this. He doesn't want to leave them, but everything is getting dark and cold and he's being called away to somewhere else.
Death is pulling him away, sick of being cheated out of the chance to reap Klaus Hargreeves, and this time, he can't seem to fight it.
This time, he has to go, even though it's the most that he's ever wanted to stay.
There have been close calls, of course. Perhaps none closer than that night with Luther where he struck his head against a cement floor and went to wherever that was where he spoke with that bitchy child and his bitchier father.
It had even gotten to the point where Klaus thought that maybe he'd end up cheating death entirely, but it seems that he was wrong about that. Death will come for him. He thinks maybe it's coming for him now.
Death is at the front of his mind, but that isn't surprising. What else is there to think about when you're bleeding out on the sidewalk?
It all happens very fast.
Klaus is walking along the street, sipping iced coffee and gesticulating wildly as he recounts an embellished story about a drag king he'd befriended in Amsterdam, when suddenly there's a wild cacophony of sound. A peaceful afternoon is disrupted when a car runs a red light and crashes into the side of another car, sending it spinning wildly into the front of a bakery just a few yards from where they're standing.
Glass and metal explode outward and litter the ground, which startles Klaus enough that he drops his iced coffee. The plastic breaks as it hits the pavement and the coffee spills, sending the liquid outward to follow the patterns of cracks and grooves in the sidewalk.
"That was a close one, huh?" Klaus says to the person next to him, but his voice sounds strange. His throat tickles and when he tries to clear it, the taste of copper fills his mouth and he coughs a little in surprise, blinking as blood trickles out from the corner of his mouth.
He hears a scream and coughs again, starting to shake as he tips his head down to look at his chest. There's so much blood there suddenly, pumping out of a hole in his chest and staining the thin pink tee that he's wearing. It spreads outwards like the coffee on the ground, growing and taking over whatever dry space it can reach.
Klaus reaches up to touch his trembling fingers to the edge of the jagged wound, coughing again as he slowly turns to look behind him. There's a piece of metal on the ground, rebar shrapnel, and it too is covered in crimson red. “Fuck.”
It's only once he realizes what's happened that it starts to hurt, and he feels like a child that's fallen down but doesn't start to cry until he spots the blood on his knee. It hurts so bad that Klaus can't breathe, or maybe that's because his lungs are filling up with blood.
He gives the person next to him a panicked look and then stumbles backwards, collapsing back onto the pavement and staring up at the sky. There's blood in his throat, pooling in his mouth until he chokes, and a part of him wants to laugh.
All those dangerous missions, all those years ruining himself with drugs. Multiple apocalypses. Frontline combat in Vietnam. All of that and this is how he's going to go-- random happenstance. A horrible accident. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so fucking depressing.
"I'm sorry," he chokes out to the person kneeling at his side, because he loves them and he doesn't want them to have to deal with this. He doesn't want to leave them, but everything is getting dark and cold and he's being called away to somewhere else.
Death is pulling him away, sick of being cheated out of the chance to reap Klaus Hargreeves, and this time, he can't seem to fight it.
This time, he has to go, even though it's the most that he's ever wanted to stay.
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"I don't--" Before he can finish his non-answer, Obi-Wan grabs at him and pulls him close, wrapping him in a ferocious hug. It hurts, and Klaus is sure that he can feel muscle and bone grinding together, but he's alive, so he just lets out a squeak and clutches Obi-Wan back as tightly as he can.
Aftera few moments, he pulls back enough to look down, peeling open his shirt to get a look at the wound beneath. It's red and raw but the bleeding has stopped and it's a little pink around the edges, smooth with brand new skin. He's healing, somehow, and he looks up at Obi-Wan and lets out a laugh that borders on manic.
"The old man always did say that I never lived up to my potential," he gets out, and his laugh turns into a sob as he grabs at Obi-Wan again, ignoring the commotion that's kicking up around them.
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"I thought you were gone," he says when Klaus pulls him close again. "I thought this was it."
And, as ever, Obi-Wan would have gone on. But he doubts very much he would have loved anyone again. Not like this. It had taken decades and a particularly special person after Satine, he can't imagine ever finding such a thing again.
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Klaus's face jerks up to look at Obi-Wan, because he knows all too well what it feels like to have the one you love bleed out in your arms, and hear that last choking breath. He hates that Obi-Wan had to go through that again, that he had to feel any pain at all.
"I thought so, too," he admits, because his very last thought was about the horror of never seeing Obi-Wan again. "I'm sorry," he breathes out as he pulls Obi-Wan in for another hug, holding onto him more tightly now that he's a little less in shock. "Before you say it, I know it's not my fault. I'm just sorry."
Klaus holds on until he stops shaking so badly and then pulls back to cup Obi-Wan's face in one hand, thumb resting on his chin as he leans in for a brief peck on the lips. They're covered in blood, his blood, but Klaus doesn't care. He can't make himself not touch him. "But I'm here. I'm--"
He pauses, blinking in surprise before looking at Obi-Wan with wide eyes. "I'm never going anywhere."
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Were this a war, he would be able to pull himself together and move on, he would have to, but this isn't war. This is simply life and there is no need to just move on, compartmentalize and continue as if nothing has happened in order to save the galaxy.
The ambulance has arrived and paramedics are bustling toward them, carrying bags and a stretcher of some sort. Obi-Wan doesn't believe they're needed any longer, but he also isn't going to tell them not to examine this wonderful man, a man who was truly dead only moments before.
"Let them examine you," he requests softly. "For me."
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His brain feels like it's buzzing a hundred miles an hour and his eyes go a bit distant as he thinks about what this all must mean. He'd always known that Reggie was a sadistic bastard, but to actually kill him? Repeatedly? It was even worse than he thought, and his expression crumples into one of a profound sort of sorrow. In the grave for years, and the man can still find ways to hurt him.
Obi-Wan's request draws Klaus's attention away from his thoughts and he opens his mouth to protest, only to close it and nod after a look at Obi-Wan's face. He'd do anything that Obi-Wan asked of him right now.
Klaus looks up at the paramedics, who are staring at him with vague confusion on their faces. The turn their heads in toward each other and murmur about how he should have bled out, and what they should do, so Klaus plants a hand on the ground and tries to stand.
"I think I may need some juice," he says once he's on his hands and knees, swaying a bit and drinking. "Maybe like a Gatorade?"
"Uh, let's get you on the stretcher," one of them says as they rush forward to help Klaus up. Once he's settled on the gurney, Klaus holds a hand toward Obi-Wan.
"He's coming with me," Klaus says firmly. "I'm not going if he doesn't come."
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Obi-Wan nods as well, but he's thinking of what Klaus has just said. That this isn't the first time, that Reginald had always claimed he hadn't realized his full potential. What he's thinking is too horrible to imagine, a father purposely putting his child in situations where they may die just to experiment with his abilities, but as soon as he thinks it, he can't get it out of his mind.
There are horrible people in the world. Across the galaxy. Reginald Hargreeves certainly doesn't have a monopoly on that.
Once they're loaded into the back, the ambulance heading off down the street, though without the sirens, as this no longer seems to be an emergency, Obi-Wan asks, "How do you feel?"
The paramedic in the back with them is helping Klaus with some oxygen, hooking the nose piece gently over his ears.
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He was in an ambulance the night his father died, flatlining on a gurney just like this one after taking too many pills. A close one, he'd thought, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe h had died and been reanimated just in time to learn about Reginald's own passing.
How many times, Dad? The question thunders around in his skull until Obi-Wan speaks and Klaus finally blinks, shifting his head a little to meet Obi-Wan's gaze.
"Like I just found out that my father repeatedly suffocated me to death in a box of ghosts," he says flatly, brows knitting together as his eyes well with unshed tears. "I saw me. I was only eight. He-- he killed me. He was taking notes."
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It's an easier thing to do when the man himself isn't here.
"He knew, but he never explained to you?" Obi-Wan asks, brow furrowing. "A better way to teach would be to make the student aware of the lesson, one would think."
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"I remember not being able to breathe, and I thought it was just from panicking," he says quietly, not quite meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. "I would wake up in a puddle of my own vomit and think I was weak. I always thought I was weak."
Before he can continue, one of the machines sounds an alarm and an EMT is leaning over him, cutting his shirt off of him, peeling it away from his blood-soaked torso.
"Okay, let's try to calm down. Take a deep breath," she says as she resets the alarm and rests a hand on Klaus's shoulder. She's a Darrow native, that much he can tell by the blank-eyed pleasant smile she gives him as she watches the wound in his chest knit itself back together.
"That's a neat trick!" She says as she cleans the wound with saline, catching the bloody runoff with a towel. "We're almost there, hun."
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It's fascinating to him how one man can make so many foolish mistakes and still have these children who are, in so many different ways, kind and caring and brilliant. Each of them has their own strengths, but there isn't a single Hargreeves in Darrow Obi-Wan doesn't admire for one reason or another. Their strength at coming through their upbringing with Reginald Hargreeves alone is exceptional, but doing so with such humour and kindness is an amazing thing.
"You're remarkable," he says to Klaus. "To have grown up with that man and to come out on the other side with such a big heart. You haven't let him take any of that from you yet, don't let him now. You've never been weak, Klaus, your father just never understood how to be an inspiration and a support. These are his failings, not yours."
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"Okay," he says quietly, because Klaus has found himself at a loss for words. He stares at Obi-Wan so hard that he nearly forgets where they are until suddenly the ambulance stops and Klaus is being wheeled out. He twists and looks for Obi-Wan, reaching out for him with a panicked wince.
"We've got an adult male. Through and through shrapnel injury to the chest, but it looks like he has regenerative abilities," the EMT says as people in scrubs swarm the gurney and rush it into the hospital. "Vitals are stable. Heart rate is high."
"Obi?" Klaus calls out in a high voice, trying to turn and look for him only to have his shoulder pressed down to the gurney. "Obi!"
"
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Like this moment now. He can feel Klaus's anxiety and has no wish to leave him in such a state.
"I'm right here," he says, stepping near enough to be seen. "You're fine. I'm coming with you."
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Not Obi-Wan. He only uses it when absolutely necessary, and Klaus is relieved to find that this falls into that category. Everyone pushing the gurney slows to a halt until Obi-Wan is suddenly there and Klaus can relax, nodding a bit as he slumps back against the gurney.
The doctors start moving again, taking over from the EMTs, and none of them say anything as Obi-Wan keeps pace with them, sticking where Klaus can see him. Once they're in a triage room, one of them yanks the curtain shut and goes about inspecting the rapidly closing hold in Klaus's chest, humming thoughtfully as she does.
"Well, looks like surgery won't be necessary," she says as she cleans the wound, looking reassuringly up at Klaus. "Have you always been able to heal like this?"
"No," Klaus starts to say, but then he remembers what he saw in that void-- him dying over and over again. "I mean, yeah. I've-- it's happened a lot. I just didn't know it at the time."
He shoots Obi-Wan a helpless look, lower lip quivering as a fresh set of tears spill out over his eyes. "I just want to go home."
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"Can you roll onto your side?" the doctor asks. "I want to take a look at your back as well."
Obi-Wan smiles at Klaus and nods, then comes toward him so he can stand at one side of the gurney and hold his hand while he rolls in that direction. The doctor performs the same actions with his back, cleaning the remainder of the wound, then carefully applying a bandage Obi-Wan has to believe Klaus will no longer need by the time they're home.
"I want to check your vitals," she says, pulling out a penlight. "You seem to be in good health, but I don't want to send you home and have something happen overnight."
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Obi-Wan asked him specifically to do this. He so rarely outright asks for anything, and he did just have to endure Klaus dying in his arms, however temporarily, so it's the least that Klaus could do. "Fine."
He endures the tests, lets the doctor shine lights in his eyes and press a cold stethoscope to next to the bandage on his chest. He does decline having any bloodwork done, not because he's afraid of needles (ha), but because he doesn't trust this place. He doesn't want any Darrow weirdos running tests on his blood. Maybe he's being paranoid, but he did just learn that his father murdered him in the name of science, so he isn't in a trusting mood.
"Your breathing is still a little labored, but your lung is rapidly repairing itself, so it should improve," the doctor tells him, and Klaus swallows hard and doesn't even really pay attention. Obi-Wan will be listening, and he'll relay anything important. She gives a rambling rundown of his vast injuries, and his expression gets more and more pinched.
"Am I free to go, doc?" He finally says in a tightly clipped voice, a vast deviation from his normal drawl.
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"You'll be fine, I believe," she tells Klaus. "But please come back if you notice any issues with your breathing, any chest pain. This isn't something we want to just overlook and pretend never happened."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan says again. "We will."
The doctor leaves the area where they've been placed and Obi-Wan looks at Klaus. "Here," he says, removing his robe so he can drape it over Klaus's shoulders. There's some blood on the sleeves, but he imagines it's better than nothing. "Let me order us a car."
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"Thanks," he murmurs as he slips his arms into Obi-Wan's robe. It's comfortable and soft, smelling like Obi-Wan in a way that calms Klaus, but there's that coppery smell of blood, too. It's all over him, all over the robe, all over Obi-Wan. It makes him want to throw up.
"Could you go ask someone if we could have some scrubs to go home in?" Klaus asks after a moment, looking up imploringly at Obi-Wan. And then, as if that's the only reason he's asking: "No one is going to let us in their car like this."
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It only takes him a few moments and he returns with a set of what appears to be hospital grade pajamas for them both. They're rather generic looking, but they're soft and clean, having both just come out of some plastic.
"Here," he says, handing Klaus one of the pairs. "We can get changed here, no one will bother us. And they gave us a bag, too, for anything we want to take with us."
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And then he laughs, dark and unhappy, because there's another thing to add to the list of firsts that he doesn't remember. When was the first time he died? Was it there in that crypt and the hands of his father? Or was there some terrible misstep in his youth that led to Reginald discovering what he could do? How calculated was the risk when his father suffocated him to death? Did he even care?
When Obi-Wan slips back through the curtain, Klaus jerks his head up and quickly wipes at the corner of his eye as he slides off of the gurney. He wobbles unsteadily and grabs the bed to steady himself before reaching out to take the scrubs. After setting them on the bed, he shrugs out of Obi-Wan's robe and turns to the sink in the corner, running the water hot as he hunches over it to try and scrub the blood off of his hands.
"My clothes are trashed, aside from my boots," Klaus says as he watches the water run in pink swirls down the drain. "But getting blood out of our uniforms was one of our lessons as a kid, so I should be able to save your robe."
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If the blood comes out, wonderful. But if it doesn't, he also won't care, because what matters is that Klaus is here. Alive. The realization hits Obi-Wan all over again and he pauses in the midst of pulling down the scrubs shirt, shocked by the blow he feels even now.
Straightening the shirt into place, he crosses to where Klaus is standing at the sink and wraps his arms around him from behind. With his eyes closed, Obi-Wan presses his cheek to Klaus's shoulder, holding him, feeling his warmth, listening to his breath.
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"I'm okay," he breathes out against the top of Obi-Wan's head, clutching at him tightly. Klaus went through the trauma of dying, but Obi-Wan went through trauma, too. It being temporary doesn't make it less real, and he hates that he was the cause of any pain for this wonderful man.
"I'm not going anywhere," Klaus assures him, squeezing him tightly and kissing his temple. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart. No refunds or exchanges."
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This ability is a new discovery, one that they both will have to examine in their own ways, one Obi-Wan can’t pretend to understand. But it means Klaus is still here and for that he is eternally grateful.
“I’m just reminding myself of the fact,” he says when he pulls back and offers Klaus a gentle smile. He places his hand just above the bandage, over Klaus’s heart. “Let’s go home now.”
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"Let's go home," he agrees, pulling back and giving Obi-Wan a brief kiss before letting go. He undresses entirely and stuffs his ruined clothing into the trash bin, keeping only his socks and boots. There is dried blood crusting all over his skin, and Obi-Wan's too, and he can't wait to get home and take a long soak in the tub.
For now, he pulls on his scrubs as Obi-Wan puts his robe into the bag to take home. He says it doesn't matter, and while Klaus knows that it doesn't in the grand scheme of things, he still wants to try and fix it.
It's only when Klaus pulls his boots back on that he notices the hospital bracelet around his wrist. He didn't even notice it being put on him, and it makes him think of all the times he'd woken up in hospitals before after overdoses or accidents. All those near-death experiences, and Klaus still never figured it out.
After signing a discharge paper, Klaus and Obi-Wan leave the hospital looking like the final girls at the end of a horror movie-- bloody and traumatized and holding hands, but very much alive.
"Fuck, I feel hungover," he says as they walk out into the hot sunshine, and he lifts his hand to shade his eyes. "Celestial comedown is a bitch."
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"Well, I'm just glad you're here to experience the celestial comedown," he answers. The car he's ordered is already waiting for them and Obi-Wan smiles as they get in, but he requests a quiet ride, and the driver, wanting a good rating, seems more than happy to oblige.
"Close your eyes," he says once they're in the car and on the move. "Just rest."
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They climb into the car and Klaus isn't surprised that driver easily agrees to stay quiet. If he picks people up from the hospital on any regular sort of basis, he's probably used to people not being very chatty.
He wants to get home so badly, wants to soak in the tub and sink into bed for about a week, but for now he leans against Obi-Wan's side and nods at his gentle instruction, closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath.
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