Diego knows he’s right - Allison is stubborn enough to not have given a damn about the danger she was in. She saw the chance to do something, to save their sister, and she had taken it. He would have done the same. Klaus, too, along with anyone else. Whatever little self preservation remains in all of them ceases to exist when it comes to each other, and Allison had paid the price.
Still, it does little to let himself off the hook. If he hadn’t been in jail, if he would have left with her... Would it be the two of them in here, at the brink of death? Would it have been both of them on the cabin, bleeding to death? They’ll never know, he wasn’t able to be there for Allison, and it drives the guilt like a knife through his chest.
He doesn’t argue back, though. He just gives a single nod, one that’s barely visible. If Allison hadn’t almost died, if she was awake right now, he’d be admonishing her for being so damn stupid and careless, for getting caught in the crossfire, but it’s just his defense mechanism. The part of him that cares so fucking much that makes aggression flare, because it feels like a weakness. Like opening the door to someone he wishes he could keep shut, because it’s easier to manage.
“You couldn’t glue yourself to her. This week has been one shitstorm after another, that’s hardly your doing.” The old man’s death, Five returning, his little buddies breaking into the house and taking Klaus. Patch, the shootout in the middle of nowhere, Harold Jenkins. Vanya. It has all been nonstop, and it has been goddamned exhausting.
And, if he’s tired, he can’t help but wonder how Klaus is feeling. Considering what he shared about Vietnam, about Dave, it’s really what brought him here, now, and he nudges his leg with his. Just how he would do when they were kids and he was trying to get his attention, a quiet moment between brothers as they braces themselves for whatever torture Reginald had concocted as part of their training.
“You holding up okay?” Diego gets it, after all. The loss, the heartache. He’s dealing with it now, but they’re very different. Through all of Klaus’s pomp and circumstance, there are still glimpses in there of the kid he had once known, and while he doesn’t quite know the man he grew up to be due to all their years apart, he had seen a glimpse of him. Not only that, but he had seen him mourning in that bar in a way he had never seen him do before. “I can wait here while you go for a walk. Five or minutes won’t kill you, and she’ll be fine.” His lips quirk slightly, adding the slight tease as if to balance out whatever this moment is, even if there’s a sincerity in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding. Klaus has already seen it, after all, after their run in at the bar. “You can fix that mop of hair a little bit.”
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Still, it does little to let himself off the hook. If he hadn’t been in jail, if he would have left with her... Would it be the two of them in here, at the brink of death? Would it have been both of them on the cabin, bleeding to death? They’ll never know, he wasn’t able to be there for Allison, and it drives the guilt like a knife through his chest.
He doesn’t argue back, though. He just gives a single nod, one that’s barely visible. If Allison hadn’t almost died, if she was awake right now, he’d be admonishing her for being so damn stupid and careless, for getting caught in the crossfire, but it’s just his defense mechanism. The part of him that cares so fucking much that makes aggression flare, because it feels like a weakness. Like opening the door to someone he wishes he could keep shut, because it’s easier to manage.
“You couldn’t glue yourself to her. This week has been one shitstorm after another, that’s hardly your doing.” The old man’s death, Five returning, his little buddies breaking into the house and taking Klaus. Patch, the shootout in the middle of nowhere, Harold Jenkins. Vanya. It has all been nonstop, and it has been goddamned exhausting.
And, if he’s tired, he can’t help but wonder how Klaus is feeling. Considering what he shared about Vietnam, about Dave, it’s really what brought him here, now, and he nudges his leg with his. Just how he would do when they were kids and he was trying to get his attention, a quiet moment between brothers as they braces themselves for whatever torture Reginald had concocted as part of their training.
“You holding up okay?” Diego gets it, after all. The loss, the heartache. He’s dealing with it now, but they’re very different. Through all of Klaus’s pomp and circumstance, there are still glimpses in there of the kid he had once known, and while he doesn’t quite know the man he grew up to be due to all their years apart, he had seen a glimpse of him. Not only that, but he had seen him mourning in that bar in a way he had never seen him do before. “I can wait here while you go for a walk. Five or minutes won’t kill you, and she’ll be fine.” His lips quirk slightly, adding the slight tease as if to balance out whatever this moment is, even if there’s a sincerity in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding. Klaus has already seen it, after all, after their run in at the bar. “You can fix that mop of hair a little bit.”