Klaus will never be able to scrub the image of Allison bleeding on the cabin floor out of his mind, won't be able to stop feeling the warm, sticky blood on his hands as he held the wound in the car, as he all but screamed at Luther and Five to go faster. But they'd made it in time, and after the transfusion from Diego, she seemed to settle into recovery.
The chair hurts his back, his ass is numb, and he's hungry, but he won't leave her side until her eyes open, until there's some sign that she'll be okay. His mind goes in and out sometimes, and he wonders if he should text Patrick, if he should call him and beg him to come because everything has gotten so fucked up in their short time away from home. And oh, to see Claire again, to go back to their little house and sit as a group on the couch with a movie playing in the background.
They have to save the world, though. They have to save Vanya, and they can't do that from California. He lost Dave. He can't lose Allison, he can't lose Vanya. He can't lose anyone else, because he's not sure his heart will stand up under that pressure.
Klaus almost doesn't hear the door open, the plod of Diego's boots on the floor, but he turns at the sound of the chair, his hands wringing together in front of him. "Who needs sleep," he laughs weakly, letting out a sigh. "Not I, said the Hargreeves Pariah. I can stay up for days, no speed necessary, promise! Besides, looking like shit is all the rage these days." He tosses his hair, frizzy and mottled with sweat and stippled with blood from his hands earlier.
"I won't leave her alone, and I will be here when she wakes up. But if you would fancy an argument, by all means," he says tiredly, waving vaguely toward the door of the infirmary, but a toothy sort of smile spreads across his face. It isn't warm. "Luther tried, too. I won."
But Klaus will give Diego credit where it's due— at the veteran's bar, on the car ride home, he had been kind a way that Klaus hadn't expected, seeing as he's heard nothing but quips about his sobriety from the moment he stepped foot on the landing. But for all the barbed wire and biting comments, Diego had listened, he'd been there. That's the fucked up thing about their family, isn't it? At the end of the day, there's something left to hold onto, to love.
no subject
The chair hurts his back, his ass is numb, and he's hungry, but he won't leave her side until her eyes open, until there's some sign that she'll be okay. His mind goes in and out sometimes, and he wonders if he should text Patrick, if he should call him and beg him to come because everything has gotten so fucked up in their short time away from home. And oh, to see Claire again, to go back to their little house and sit as a group on the couch with a movie playing in the background.
They have to save the world, though. They have to save Vanya, and they can't do that from California. He lost Dave. He can't lose Allison, he can't lose Vanya. He can't lose anyone else, because he's not sure his heart will stand up under that pressure.
Klaus almost doesn't hear the door open, the plod of Diego's boots on the floor, but he turns at the sound of the chair, his hands wringing together in front of him. "Who needs sleep," he laughs weakly, letting out a sigh. "Not I, said the Hargreeves Pariah. I can stay up for days, no speed necessary, promise! Besides, looking like shit is all the rage these days." He tosses his hair, frizzy and mottled with sweat and stippled with blood from his hands earlier.
"I won't leave her alone, and I will be here when she wakes up. But if you would fancy an argument, by all means," he says tiredly, waving vaguely toward the door of the infirmary, but a toothy sort of smile spreads across his face. It isn't warm. "Luther tried, too. I won."
But Klaus will give Diego credit where it's due— at the veteran's bar, on the car ride home, he had been kind a way that Klaus hadn't expected, seeing as he's heard nothing but quips about his sobriety from the moment he stepped foot on the landing. But for all the barbed wire and biting comments, Diego had listened, he'd been there. That's the fucked up thing about their family, isn't it? At the end of the day, there's something left to hold onto, to love.