Chapter Text
Klaus is flipping through his wardrobe, huffing with dissatisfaction, seemingly finding something wrong with every item he pulls out. "I hate funerals,” he says. “I hate death. Even his death."
On the bed, Dave is sitting, already dressed in black slacks and shirt. "No one likes death,” he reasons, “but it's still important. It's the reason life matters, y'know?"
"Oh, honey, no,” Klaus snorts. “Death is the reason that life doesn't matter."
Dave stills. “You don’t mean that.”
Avoiding his fiance’s eyes, Klaus admits, “No. I just…”
“I know. Come here?”
Klaus huffs, defeated, before plopping down next to Dave, scooting around so that his head is in Dave’s lap. “I hate that I care. Why should I care?”
“He did raise you, even if he was terrible at it.”
“Hah. Sure.”
Dave brushes his fingers through Klaus’ hair - it’s down to his shoulders, now - and murmurs, “We don’t have to go. We can stay home.”
“Dave, come on. This is our chance to make things right-”
“My dad’s two years off retirement. It doesn’t matter. You matter.”
“And I want to fix this,” Klaus insists, sitting up. “I can’t undo all the shit he did to my siblings, but if we can prove your dad was innocent?”
“It was decades ago,” he points out. “The chance your dad kept any records, after so long-”
“You don’t know my dad. He was meticulous. He has records; we just have to find them.”
Dave sighs. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed, if we can’t prove anything.”
“I know,” says Klaus. “I just… I don’t want him to get away with it all. I don’t want people to remember him as… as someone good.”
“We know the truth, though,” Dave says. “Fuck everyone else.”
A smile breaks across Klaus’ face. “Okay. Still… I would like it if we could drag Reginald’s name through the mud a bit.”
“Yeah,” confides Dave, “me too.”
They arrive later than intended.
This is mostly due to how long Klaus had taken to decide on his outfit - a flowy green skirt, a pink floral shirt, and more eyeliner than he’s worn in a while. Dave is fairly certain he’s chosen based on what would offend Reginald the most. It’s a worthwhile endeavor, as far as Dave is concerned.
Ben is wearing the same clothes as always, but hey, they are black.
Theoretically, none of the other siblings (bar perhaps Luther) should be here. The funeral isn’t for another couple of hours at least. That’s not what they’re here for.
Klaus is utterly determined to find evidence that Reginald had sabotaged his father’s career. Whether it’s because he really wants to help Dave’s parents, or whether it’s an avoidance tactic, remains to be seen. He hasn’t cried. Not that it’s required, after a death - especially the death of Reginald Fucking Hargreeves - but it is uncharacteristic of him. Klaus cries frequently. When they had first started living together, Klaus had tried to hide it, tried to brush over it, but nowadays he does it openly, shamelessly. It’s a strength, one that Dave’s always admired. So it really doesn’t track that he still hasn’t cried yet. It’s worrying.
(Dave's trying not to worry. Everyone grieves in their own way. He's trying.)
The house is just as huge as he remembers it - just a little different, without the shattered eggs splattered across it's facade. Dave smirks to himself at the memory.
Klaus leads them inside. The interior is just as grand, just as hostile, as Dave had imagined.
He hates it on principle.
No one greets them at the door, so the two of them go directly up to Reginald's office. The second they step inside, Dave is struck with the sense that he's breaking the rules, and if the half mischievous, half fearful look on Klaus' eye is anything to go by, the feeling is mutual. Ben watches the proceedings with an unnaturally blank expression. High on the wall, an oil portrait of Reginald Hargreeves stares down at them. It must take a special kind of vanity to hang your own portrait in your office.
They start at the bookshelves, leafing through tombs the weight of bricks, in languages Dave can only speculate on. None of them seem remotely personal. Predictably, Klaus is quick to lose interest.
Silently, he taps Dave’s wrist - a request - and Dave lets the ghosts transfer across to him. With a wink, Klaus flops down into the chair, and spins to the window, where Ben presumably sits. “Number Six,” he says, voice a vague impression of an English accent, “how dare you trespass in my office?”
Dave can't hear the response, but whatever it is makes Klaus crack up.
"Oh, that was spot on and you know it," he says. Then, putting his feet up on the desk, Klaus adds, "Wow, doesn't this place bring back so many good memories? And by good, I mean terrible, depressing…"
"We don't have to stay," Dave offers for the millionth time.
"Oh, shush, both of you." Klaus drops his feet back to the ground, boots thumping the rug. He begins to poke at the contents of the desk. "Ooh, locked drawer. This has gotta be where he keeps the good stuff." A beat passes, with Dave still doggedy sorting through the bookcase, before Klaus makes a noise of triumph, brandishing an expensive looking box. Then, "Oh, come on, he locked the drawer and the box? That's just overkill!"
"Let me try," suggests Dave; the box is pretty, but doesn't look like it could withstand much brute force. Klaus passes it over, and Dave digs his fingernails into the seam, trying to find some leverage-
"Klaus? What are you doing in Dad's office?"
Dave startles, and tosses the box to Klaus. Klaus startles, and tosses the box to Ben.
Ben is a ghost.
The box flies out the window.
"Aw, shit," says Klaus. Then, "Hi, Allison."
"Klaus, Dave," says Allison, mouth twisted with poorly concealed amusement. "Ben too, I'm guessing?"
"You guess correctly," Klaus confirms, launching himself out of the chair to give his sister a hug. "He says hi."
"Hi, Ben," Allison greets. "So, what's with the snooping through dad's stuff?"
Klaus explains, "We're looking for evidence that he framed Dave's dad."
Allison blinks. "Oh. Well, in that case, please continue."
With a toothy grin, he says, "We will. How's the Claire-bear?"
"She's great," enthuses Allison. "She's staying at her dad's. I didn't want her, y'know-"
"Seeing how massively fucked the family is all together?" Klaus supplies.
"Or maybe you didn't want her to get bored at the funeral?" offers Dave.
Allison weighs her hand up and down. "Bit of both?"
Collapsing back into the chair, Klaus agrees, “Probably for the best. Historically speaking” - he lowers his voice, as if revealing a secret - “I don’t think this place has a good effect on child development.”
“Get out of his chair.”
Dave startles. The voice isn’t that familiar - or, it’s deeper than he remembers it, from snippets played on the news - and the person it belongs to doesn’t look at all like he did on TV. Ben was right; Luther had gotten big.
“Lu-lu!” trills Klaus. Despite his tone being constructed for optimal irritation, he does obey the command, leaving their father’s seat. “It’s been so long! And you look- well. I, of course, haven’t aged a day.” He frames his face with his hands, batting his eyelashes.
Luther blinks at him. Then, eyes shifting to Dave: “Who’s this?”
“I’m Dave,” he says, offering a hand out. Luther just blinks at that, too.
“My fiancé,” coos Klaus.
Skeptical, Luther questions, “You got engaged?”
“Careful, brother dearest,” cautions Klaus. “You sound so surprised. You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”
“You’re not wearing a ring.”
“No, no, I proposed to him,” says Klaus, grabbing at Dave’s left hand until he shows off the ring. As they make contact, Ben becomes visible in the corner of his vision, looking amused, if vaguely detached.
Luther squints at the ring. “And he said yes?”
“Yes,” Dave says mildly, “he did.”
Allison, who’s been watching the exchange silently, purses her lips against a smile.
Shifting awkwardly, Luther asks, “So what are you doing in here, exactly? It looks like you’re going through dad’s stuff.” The accusations in his words are not as well hidden as Luther seems to think.
“Ah, long story,” says Klaus. “You wouldn’t know where Dad kept evidence of his more, uh, questionable work?”
“Questionable?”
“Oh, you know. Dodgy dealings. Blackmail, bribery, all the good stuff.”
Luther wrinkles his nose. "What are you talking about? Just because you have no respect for the law, doesn't mean Dad was a criminal too."
Ben snorts. "He does remember that Dad bought us, right?"
"I don't think child soldiers are usually permitted under U.S. law, either," Dave agrees.
With a delicate shrug, Allison notes, "Legality is relative when it comes to rich white guys."
If Luther seemed defensive before, he seems almost hurt by Allison's agreement. "That's different."
Klaus sighs. "Never mind. Maybe Pogo will know." He leads Dave out of the office, Ben trailing behind.
Just as they pass the doorway, Luther can be heard musing, “Wow. Even Klaus has changed.”
Despite the way Klaus (and the rest of the siblings) has clearly changed in the intervening years, it seems that Luther, other than his altered stature, has not.
Dave had, intellectually, been aware that Pogo was a talking ape. Intellectually.
In reality, it’s still a hard pill to swallow.
Pogo looks at Klaus - and, by extension, Dave - with a strange, almost wishful expression on his old face. Klaus greets him with a friendly tone that does nothing to hide the cagey look in his eyes, and asks whether he might know anything about Reginald’s record keeping.
“Ah, Master Klaus,” Pogo laments, “I’m afraid that your father was a very private man.”
Which doesn’t really answer the question. They move on, though; it seems they won’t be getting any help from Reginald’s right hand man.
Instead, they go back down the grand staircase. There’s no one in the foyer, but they find Klaus’ mother in the next room, sitting by the fire.
“Hey, Mom,” Klaus says. He’s talked about her before; about how she was the only kind adult in their lives, growing up; how it didn’t hurt any less when she always justified their father’s actions, despite knowing how little choice she had.
Grace’s gaze drifts away from the flames. There’s something decidedly absent in her eyes as she finally looks at Klaus, saying, “Hello.” Somehow, Dave had been imagining her as more… human. The way Klaus and the others - Diego in particular - had described her, had made it sound like she was indiscernible from flesh and blood.
“Mom?” Klaus says. He sounds nervous.
“You were late for dinner,” she says, voice empty.
Klaus straightens. “I… Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” she responds, but her glassy eyes have already settled back upon the flames.
Ben and Klaus shared a disturbed glance. Something clearly isn’t right.
Just then, they hear footsteps coming down the stairs. “Diego,” Ben says, familiar with the sound in a way that only family is. They go to greet him.
“Hey,” Diego says, catching sight of them. He sounds tired. There’s only one knife harness visible, which is several fewer than when Dave had first met the man, but also more than he’s seen Diego wear in a while. Going home can bring back old habits - just like how Klaus had chain-smoked his breakfast that morning.
"Mi hermano," calls Klaus. "How's it going?"
"Ah, y'know," he says philosophically.
"Weird being back?" Dave guesses.
Diego grimaces. "This place hasn't changed." Then, casting a look around, "Ben's here?"
"Yep," Dave confirms, holding a hand out in offering. Diego clasps his hand, a practiced process, and Dave pushes a bit of Klaus' power forward. They don't do this as much as they used to - it's often easier to just manifest Ben, these days - but maybe Diego's guessed that Dave wants to ration his energy, in case Ben wants him to manifest him later, in front of the others. The ghost hasn't shown much interest in it. It's almost strange, except for how he's still holding a grudge against Vanya, and never seemed quite as convinced by Grace as the others.
"Hi," Ben says, quietly. He's been like that since they stepped over the threshold.
"Yo," Diego says. "How are you holding up?"
Ben shrugs. "Fine, as long as I don't have to look at that fucking statue."
"What statue?" Dave asks.
The siblings all look a little uncomfortable at the question, but Klaus is breezy as he answers, "Oh, y'know, Ben's memorial."
It’s dumb, but Dave somehow forgets that Ben was alive once - that he died, that he wasn’t always a ghost. “Right.”
“On the topic of uncomfortable things,” Klaus says, “did you notice that Mom seems kind of… weird?”
Diego looks at his shoes. “Well, we did leave all alone here for years. Makes sense that she’d be a bit-”
The front door opens, almost silently, and then Vanya is stepping inside. She looks… small. Nervous. Not like someone who would expose her family’s most private moments to the caprice of the general public.
“Oh,” she says. “Hi.”
Diego’s jaw clenches; he says nothing. His hand drops from Dave, balling into an automatic fist at his side, spine straight. Even Klaus is somewhat subdued when says, “Hey, Van.”
There’s a beat where no one seems to know what to say. Then Diego takes a sharp breath, and says, “I’m going to… let the others know everyone’s here.” Stiffly, he flees back up the stairs. It’s a victory, really, because it isn’t so long ago that Diego would be throwing barbs as sharp as his knives at the sight of his sister - but then, if Diego had tried to start a fight, it might have saved them all from the awkward silence that ensues.
“So,” Klaus says, rocking on his heels, “it’s been a while, huh?”
“Yeah,” says Vanya.
Klaus grabs hold of Dave, and all but throws him between them. “Have you met Dave?”
“Um, no,” Vanya stutters. “Who…?”
“My fiancé,” adds Klaus, pointedly. Dave never read the book, but the surprise that flits across her face says a lot.
“Wow,” she says. “Congrats.” She looks up then, at Dave, and frowns. “Do I… Have we met?”
Five years ago, in a bookshop. You signed a copy of your book. I gave you the number for a therapist. “Nope,” he says instead. “I don’t think so.”
Ben snorts. Dave hopes he isn’t as red as he feels.
“Oh,” says Vanya. “Sorry, I… you look familiar.”
“He gets that a lot,” Klaus lies seamlessly. “He’s just very generically handsome.”
Dave frowns, caught somewhere between offended and pleased.
They’re saved from further small talk when Luther and Diego come down the stairs, both a little faster than natural, as if unconsciously racing to be first. Allison steps down after them, shooting Dave a wry look.
“Family meeting,” Luther announces shortly.
Obediently, they shuffle in for the meeting.
They’re barely sitting before Diego says, “Can we hurry this along?”
Luther shoots him an irritated look, before visibly gathering himself, standing before them all like he’s about to give a grand speech. His gaze catches on Dave - like he’s thinking about contesting his inclusion at a ‘family’ meeting - but he must decide against it, because instead, he announces the plan for the memorial service: at sundown, under the tree that only Luther ever sat under with Reginald.
Under his sibling’s stares, he falters, just long enough for Klaus to blurt, “Will there be food? A nice little family dinner?”
Luther frowns at him, disapproval writ across his face. Then, visibly dismissing Klaus, he states, “There’s still things we need to discuss.”
“Like what?” Allison questions.
“Like dad. The way he died.”
Diego scoffs, “Here we go.”
From there, the conversation devolved quickly into tension and paranoia.
Luther states his case: the last time they spoke, Reginald sounded weird. On edge. Something’s wrong. He concludes with the demand, “I know you don’t like it, Klaus, but I need you to talk to Dad.”
Klaus sits up, suddenly rigid. “What? I- I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I- I’m not in the right… frame of mind.”
“You mean you’re high?”
“No,” Klaus denies, although Dave is fairly certain he is, at least a bit - not that weed does much to curb his powers, these days. Practically sober, as he always is.
Dave leans into him, so that their shoulders are brushing. “He doesn’t have to, if he doesn’t want to.”
“Stay out of this,” Luther snaps.
Despite himself, Dave feels himself squaring up, jaw tense enough to hurt.
“If you want anyone to talk to Dad,” Diego drawls, although his eyes aren’t nearly as relaxed as his tone, “you probably shouldn’t be pissing off Dave.”
“What does that mean?”
After a slow breath, Dave says, “I can use his powers. If I want to.”
“What does that mean?”
It’s Vanya who gets there first. “You have powers,” she utters, voice barely above a whisper.
Dave shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s less that I have powers, more that I can piggyback off other people’s-”
“Steal them, more like,” Diego says.
Luther regards him, as if reassessing his threat level. “I see. So you could contact our father?”
“I could,” Dave hedges.
“Then do it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“How is it not that-”
Klaus bursts out, “If I started getting haunted by Daddy Dearest, I would be back on heroin before you could say childhood trauma.”
The room falls silent for a beat. Then, Allison says, “I think we should hold off on summoning Dad, then.”
Luther huffs. “He’s just making excuses.”
“We’re not summoning your father,” Dave says sharply. “Let’s move on.”
“...Fine,” Luther says. “Then there’s the issue of the missing monocle.”
Diego starts, “No one cares about some stupid-”
“Exactly. So whoever took it, it must have been personal. Someone with a grudge.”
Which, as it turns out, is the reason Luther suspects his own siblings.
“You’re crazy,” Klaus breathes. Then, standing up, he says, “Come on, Dave, let’s go murder Mom whilst we’re here.”
“I’m not finished.”
Klaus blows a raspberry at him. Then, to Allison, “Hey, why don’t we go look through your old wardrobe? There’s a leather skirt you had that I still dream about.”
Allison hesitates, looking between Klaus and Luther. Then, with an air of finality, “Come on, then.”
“Yes!” crows Klaus. “I’m going to look so good in that skirt.”
“I didn’t say you could have it! I just said-”
Dave follows the pair of them, and the rest of the siblings all file out of the room. Dave looks back, and finds Luther looking back at him. He might have felt sad for him, if he didn’t feel so angry.
Klaus does end up taking the skirt. In fact, he changes into it then and there, against Allison’s protests, swishing his hips just to see the material flow around him. He looks happy, almost, except for the tinge of guilt that hasn’t quite rescinded since the family meeting. Despite how loudly Klaus pretends not to care, Dave knows there’s a part of him that still wants nothing more than to be useful to his family.
Diego finds his way up to the bedrooms after a while, which gives Dave an excuse to stop looking at clothes. The pair of them lounge on Allison’s oversized bed, chatting about nothing much, whilst Ben sometimes throws in comments from his place on the window ledge, watching them all with a small smile on his face.
Then:
I think we’re alone now,
There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.
The song isn’t particularly accurate - with all five of them squeezed into the room, they’re anything but alone. Still, Dave allows Klaus to pull him up from the bed and into a bastardized waltz. Diego, never one to be outdone, stands up and pulls out some dance moves that were definitely never taught to him by Reginald. Allison laughs, delighted, flicking a feather boa at her brother. Even Ben starts bobbing his head.
The moment is shattered by an earsplitting boom, like lightning, despite the mild weather. The sun must suddenly be eclipsed, because everything’s gone dark. Light flashes. The ground shakes.
They share a look. Then, wordlessly, they’re off, sprinting out to the courtyard, where a ball of warping light is suspended twenty feet off the ground.
“Get behind me!”
“Yeah, get behind us!”
A figure - a child - comes tumbling down. Dave squints. He looks… familiar. “Who…?”
“Can anyone else see little Number Five,” Klaus queries, “or is it just me and Dave?”
Number Five barely spares anyone a glance. Instead, he goes straight for the kitchen, yanking out ingredients seemingly at random.
He looks thirteen. He assures them, through gritted teeth, that he’s actually fifty-eight. Which is strange. But maybe not as strange as a robot and an ape, so sure, whatever.
"Nice dress," Five says flippantly, which instantly puts him higher in Dave's esteem than Luther. Not that Dave is playing favourites. Obviously. Then, with a gesture from his butter knife, "So who's this guy?"
"I'm Dave."
Scathingly, Five says, "Well that clears it up."
Okay, so maybe not that far above Luther. Again, not that he's playing favourites.
"My fiancé," Klaus says. Dave grins; no matter how many times he hears the word, it never gets old.
Five does stop for a moment at that, looking up, expression impassive. “Right,” he says at last, turning back to the sandwich monstrosity he’s creating.
And then, with no further ado, he’s strolling out, as if he hasn’t just reunited with his siblings after so many years.
They putter around the kitchen for a while, in a vague state of shock. Vanya left quickly after her brother, and Luther not too long after.
Dave decides to make tea.
Allison takes the cup before excusing herself, citing a standing appointment with Claire over the phone. Diego decides to go find Grace. Klaus is unusually quiet, lost in his own thoughts, and Ben is studiously pretending to read his book.
Despite himself, Dave can’t help but feel a little out of place. He’s part of the family now, sure, but this isn’t something he can understand, not really. Five had been a sort of myth up until now; someone mentioned in passing jokes, but never discussed in any concrete way. The house feels more full of grief than it had that morning. Maybe it is. The boy they knew is gone, forever. He’s never coming back. Instead, there is this stranger wearing their brother’s face. It’s a strange sort of grief, but a grief all the same.
Eventually, the sun begins to lower, and the family congregates outside.
Grace doesn't seem to understand what they are out there for.
Pogo says some words. They don’t seem particularly accurate, but they’re pretty enough.
Diego doesn’t care for them, and has no interest in pretending to.
Dave’s training in deescalation is nothing against Diego and Luther Hargreeves.
Klaus throws an arm in front of Five. Dave throws an arm in front of Klaus.
Ben’s statue tumbles, cracks.
Diego's fingers dance over his knife. Instead of pulling it, he shoulders past Luther and back into the house. The rest of the family disperse, bitter and angry.
Klaus, Ben, and Dave are all left staring at the pile of ashes - all that's left of the infamous Reginald Hargreeves.
It's only then that Klaus says what they're all thinking: "Five sure has a lot of ghosts."
The courtyard has steadily gotten more busy, ghosts finding their way to Five, crowding him hungrily. Some of them had followed him inside; others had stayed behind, realising that Dave and Klaus could see them.
Dave pools their energy, and carefully strips away each ghost, his hand glowing blue, until Ben is the only one left.
They're left uneasy, and without answers.
Five leaves to get coffee, and Ben tacitly follows behind. Klaus and Dave take it as a cue to go home.
Truthfully, Dave's glad to leave. The whole day had been stressful, even worse than expected.
They’re quiet as they get ready for bed. Klaus stands in the bedroom for a minute, a million miles away, until Dave comes over and helps undress him. It’s not sexual; there’s no urgency. He’s just taking care of his partner, the best way he knows how, pulling out his favourite pyjamas - meaning the ones stolen from Dave - and ushering him onto the mattress.
Klaus pulls him down on top of him. “Kiss me?”
Dave does.
Out in the kitchen, there’s the sound of something crashing to the ground.
In a second, they’re both on their feet, wary eyed. Dave grabs the baseball bat from his closet. Klaus nods, pale; maybe they’re both thinking of Five, and his ghosts, and how he hadn’t explained anything.
He lets out a slow breath, and eases the door open.
A figure, in the shadows. No, two of them-
“It’s just us!” says Ben.
“Oh, shit,” Dave breathes, lowering the bat, hand over his thumping heart.
“Is that Five?”
Dave fumbles for the light switch, revealing Five, rooting around the cupboards like a thief in the night. “Do you seriously not have any alcohol in the house?”
“Um, not right now, no,” says Klaus. “I have some weed?”
Five snorts, finally giving up in his search. “So much for sober.”
“Oh please, it’s practically medicinal,” says Klaus. “Do you see any track marks on me? Find any shady pills anywhere?”
With a considering look, Five says, “Fine. Coffee, then?”
“I can do that,” Dave volunteers. Then, after taking a few steps closer: “Is that blood?”
Cradling his arm closer, he says, “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing. Klaus, could you-”
“I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Nothing turns out to be a long, careful gash in his forearm. Five doesn’t let Dave treat it, but does take the kit, sanitising his own wound without so much as a wince. He doesn’t speak until Dave is putting a cup of coffee - black - on the table in front of him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Klaus takes his own cup, a silent acknowledgement that none of them are likely to be going to sleep any time soon, and says, “So what’s up, Five?”
Five stares into his coffee cup for a long moment. “You’re different.”
“I’d hope so. None of us are thirteen anymore.”
“Different from Vanya's book.”
“Ah,” says Klaus. “Well. Vanya sees what she wants to see. Besides, my early twenties were pretty wild.”
Five toasts to this with his mug.
“I’m glad you’re here, actually. There’s something I need to tell you.” Klaus shares a look with Ben, eyebrows raised; Ben nods, decisive.
“That can wait,” states Five. “This is more important.”
Klaus laughs, a nervous sound. “And what’s so important?”
He takes a measuring look at Klaus - at Dave - at the engagement ring on his finger. “When I jumped forward into the future… You know what I found?”
Dave hums, encouraging.
Eyes distant, Five tells them, “Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. As far as I can tell, I was the last human left alive.”
Klaus makes a choked noise. Their hands tangle tighter together.
“The word ends in eight days - and I have no idea how to stop it.”