His question about whether or not Patrick knows about her siblings makes her frown. In a way, sure, she deserves that considering how she left and the distance she has managed to keep the last few years, even during the worst times when she actually regretted leaving. But, even with all that distance, she can never forget that they are her family.
Before she can answer, though, Klaus sits up and Allison stands up along with him, already reaching for the little bowl that the nurse had left on the nightstand earlier. She's ready to help him, to do whatever he needs, but when the worst of it seems to pass she just sets the bowl back down. Instead of sitting on the chair she had been using, she sits on the bed next to him, gently rubbing his back.
"Okay, first of all? Yes, Patrick knows about you. It's fine, Klaus. You don't have to stay with us forever, we can find you another place you'd like. But you can be closer. You don't have to do this alone, I can help you. I want to help you. You don't have to afford it, because I can."
There's a hint of desperation as she tries to convince him, because she's terrified of what could happen if he stays here. She for sure cannot stay here, and it's not even just because she's married and Patrick wouldn't want to live in the city. Allison finds this place suffocating, and for years it felt like it would undo them all. She doesn't want that to happen to him.
She sighs, moving her hand from his back to his shoulder, pulling him slightly closer. "I'm sorry, for not coming before, but I'm here now. And I can-- I have a place where you can stay. Come on, please. Please, at least think about it. We can drive back if you don't want to fly, but I just... I don't want to go back without you."
The last thing Klaus wants is to drag anyone down with him. What is he without this place? He can barely exist without a drink or something else to numb his system, to dull the voices of the dead and the faces that haunt his dreams. Yoga and surfing won’t fix that, won’t wipe away the fact that he’s been handed these horrors and told to accept them, deal with them, learn how to harness them.
He rakes both hands back through his hair and releases a shaky breath once his body seems to settle back into the painful, nauseated normal that comes with withdrawal. He’s already itching all over, his skin cold and clammy, his fingers trembling. Stars burst white hot behind his eyes with every blink, but the hand on his shoulder brings him back down to Earth, and he leans heavy into her side.
“I must look really bad then,” he laughs quietly, a huff of a sound. But can he deny Allison? Can he deny the idea that maybe, for once in his adult life, having someone there might help? He’s always been weak where his sisters are concerned; he can’t deny them anything even if he tried. “But sure, let’a have a delightful California vacation. I’ll do yoga, practice all the deep breathing and maybe find a nice little Buddha of my own for a nice jaunty time. I mean, you can’t deny just looking at a statue of the man can get you going.”
He presses his cheek into her shoulder, his eyes closing. It feels like a failure, accepting her invite, feels like one more score in his record. How long until the needle scratches too deep, until he comes out slipping and broken and unusable. He can hear Luther now, the judgement in his tone, Diego’s eye roll that marks his disappointment like a knife poorly sharpened.
At the feel of him leaning against her, she shifts her position slightly so that she can better support him, holding him close. Especially when he accepts, and Allison has to remind herself to be gentle and not squeeze him so tight considering what he's going through.
If Klaus' attention were to shift to her midriff, especially since the cardigan that she's wearing opens up a little wider in the position that she's in, he'll be able to notice the slight swell of her belly. One that she has been very careful to hide from the media, and that she hasn't brought up now only because she doesn't want him to feel like it's a token to blackmail him with. But, well, that new life that she's carrying is a big reason why she's asking him to come with her to California. She wants her brother to survive long enough to meet her baby. For so damn long she negated the idea of becoming a mother, of ever having a family because it's pretty damn obvious that the Hargreeves aren't built for it... But, now that she's pregnant, she's realizing how wrong she had been. And how, especially with her baby coming, she wants that family to be near even if she doesn't quite know how to bridge the gap with the rest.
With Klaus, it has always been different. And, especially for that reason, she wants him in her life. One way or another. It won't be easy, and she knows that, but she'd rather have that than the regret at not even trying.
"Thank you." She turns her head to kiss the top of his head. "I've missed you, you know."
Klaus rests against her, eyes pressed shut, for a minute or two, quiet. His head feels like a mess of static and barbed wire and if he were asked to do anything that required more than basic motor function? Well. But his eyes open slowly when she kisses the top of his head and it's then he sees it. The swell of her belly under the chic cardigan.
He thinks, for a moment, that maybe it's just the way she's sitting, but he knows the media would eat her alive for even thinking about gaining a pound. The thought that she could be pregnant, that there's a baby on the way for one of the Hargreeves, the one inviting him to live with her?
"Were you gonna try and keep this whole thing a secret, or what?" He gestures to her middle, not yet extracting himself from her side. He doesn't have the energy. "You do realize you're inviting a wild, deranged drug addict to live with you and your new little family. Pretty sure that's not gonna go over well with Mr. Allison Hargreeves."
He sighs and pushes himself away from her then, having to steady himself on the bedside rail as the room does a funny little lurch to one side. "Allison, you shouldn't be here," he groans, suddenly frustrated. "You've got a whole grand life out west. If that bump is what I think it is, and not a big lunch, then you need to march yourself right out of this place. I'm not going to be able to fix this."
He lets his hands fall into his lap miserably. "You need to go have your perfect little baby with you're unfairly attractive husband and make lots and lots of money. I can't just turn around and quit cold turkey and let all the undead assholes come running back. I can't do it." There's fear in the insistence.
There’s a moment when Allison let’s herself relax, thinking that Klaus moving to California with her is a done deal. She’s already creating a list of things to do for the next time he falls asleep, just so they can be good to go by the time he’s released from the hospital, but then he brings up her belly and Allison tenses at once. She hadn’t been hiding it, but she hadn’t said anything because part of her had been afraid of this exact response.
“And where should I be? Home, wondering if you made it? Ignoring the fact that you are here, alone? Waiting for the next phone call that tells me that the next overdose was worse and someone needs to identify you?”
There’s a firmness to her voice, but she can’t help the way it also shakes. It’s hard to tell if it’s at the indignation of his suggestion to not be here, or the fear she feels at all those scenarios, because they both feel like a colliding force that is trying to choke her.
She reaches for his hand, giving it a squeeze as she tries to get him to look at her as if to assure him she’s being honest. “I don’t expect or think that it will be easy, or that you’ll be clean because you agree to come with me. I know it’s going to be a process, but you don’t have to do it alone. Please, let me help you. At least try it out. Please.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she looks down at their hands together as her thumb moves gently along his skin. “You and I will never really know normalcy, and I know that because we’ll always have our upbringing and our powers. I get that. But I want my baby to have something that resembles normal. I can’t give her a good grandfather from my side of the family. I can’t even promise family reunions, or holidays because we hardly even know how to celebrate those. But I want to give her at least an uncle. I want her to meet you, Klaus. You don’t have to worry about Patrick, or anything else. I just— I can’t leave you here.”
With her free hand, she wipes the tears away almost stubbornly, as if mad at herself for crying but she can’t help it.
“If you decide you want to come back,” she forces herself to add, and it’s obvious that it’s not easy for her to do so. “If you don’t want to stay, then that’s up to you. But let’s at least try it before you decide you can’t.”
He does not have the energy for this. He can't tap into some hidden cellar and draw out a few more hours of endurance, though he wish he could. Oh what a dream it would be to have energy flowing from the taps. But here they are in a hospital bed, sandwiched together like two misfit puzzle pieces. The blood pressure cuff whirs to life, the machine humming low in the silence that falls, accompanied by her tears, his ragged breathing.
Klaus feels the familiar sensation of anger coursing through his blood, though it isn't necessarily directed at Allison. A cruel part of him wants to remind her that she left. She left him as much as they all left each other and maybe caring now is too little, too late. He doesn't, however, because he knows too well that anger is meant for himself, not for her.
"Normal?" A hysterical laugh bursts from his chest. "You think I resemble normal? Oh yes, let's sit here and have a heart to heart while John who died next door is fucking breathing down my god damned neck." He yanks his hands away from hers and rubs his forearms as they pimple with goose flesh, his hands quaking, with anger, with fear "But yeah, A+ nanny material, sign me up."
He needs to get out of this place. The realization is so sudden and so real that he scrambles for the blankets, shoving them off to reveal skinny, pale legs, spotted with the occasional bruise. The oxygen and heart rate monitor wails as he rips the tape from his finger. "Then lets go. I need to get out of this place." Does he have a choice? He can't look at her, see those tears and deny her anything. While he wants the chance to go to California, see what his life could be there, a small, childish part of him wants it to have been his choice.
The IVs come next, frantic hands peeling back tape and digging. Nothing worse than the bite of a needle on a hot night in a sleazy apartment, right. His hands shake too much to pull the IV out, however, shake to the point he lets out a near growl of frustration that dissolves into a quiet sob. He presses his palms over his ears instead, sucking in shaky, uncertain breaths, whimpering.
She tries to speak over him, but Klaus keeps talking and there’s not a lot she can say. What could she say? She knows it isn’t fair to ask this of him. But, at the same time, leaving him to figure it out feels wrong, too. There’s a brief moment when she finds herself tempted to Rumor him, to convince him to come with her and damn the consequences, but she bites the inside of her lips as if to force herself to not go there no matter how much she wants to.
When he stands, Allison shoots up too, trying so hard to not shove him back on the bed but staying close enough in case he needs support. Last thing she wants is for him to fall and hurt himself.
When his palms press against his ears, Allison starts to approach him again. If he pulls back or away she won’t force him to come into contact with her, but if he lets her she’s ready to at least steady him.
Klaus lets her close, lets her steady him because he needs it. His legs don't feel like his underneath him, but they're strong, despite it all. He keeps his hands clamped over his ears, keeps his eyes screwed shut until whatever haunt was lingering nearby finally fades away. Allison's touch brings him back to the surface of it all and he reaches for the bedside, sitting like she's asked him to, letting his fingers twist tightly in the overturned bed covers.
He leans forward into her, pressing his face against her shoulder, his own shoulders shaking as he comes down from the hysteria, the tears. He tries to focus on the monitors, the way they alarm, dissonant. "I can hear them everywhere," he says quietly. It's a hospital. So many people have died here. "The longer I sit here, the more I see. They come out of the fucking walls in swarms. I need to be numb again."
Thankfully this is Allison he's making the desperate plea to and not a frenzied hospital orderly. After all, they'd diagnose him with hallucinations and psychotic breaks and maybe even a dash of schizophrenia if he's not too careful. He sucks in a shaky breath, using every beat of his heart to begin laying the bricks of his defenses.
"Welcome home, Allison! Did you know your brother is a fucking mess? He sure is pretty but that's about all he's got going for him. Don't get too close, he might have rabies."
It's a relief, for him to not push away, and she is quick to provide him the support that he needs. When he leans forward, his face on her shoulder, she rests a hand against the nape of his neck, keeping him close while the other hand rubs his back in hopes that it would soothe him.
"We're all a fucking mess," she murmurs against his hair. "You know that hasn't changed just because we're not all at the house together."
She presses a kiss against the top of his head again, quiet for a moment before she speaks. "Give me ten minutes and I'll get you out of here, we'll go to a hotel and you can rest there." A beat. "You can figure out what you want to do after you get more sleep. Are you feeling well enough to do that?"
Klaus laughs weakly and leans back, holding his hands up in false surrender. "But I'm a danger to myself. They will strongly advise you to think twice about such a morally poor decision."
Rolling his eyes he carefully slides back onto the bed, the weight of his body heavy as he flops onto his side. "Besides what would I do without my fill of artificially flavored gelatin."
All his bravado doesn't mask the way his hands shake uncontrollably, the way he sweats, the way he scratches at his forearms like his skin is like to crawl off his body. "But honestly a hotel sounds amazing," he admits, a tiny crack in the facade. "A real fucking bath tub. God." He could cry at the thought of it.
"Fine, I'll get a private doctor to keep an eye on you. I'll figure it out."
She has thought this through already, what she would do after leaving the hospital. This is her first rodeo with him like this, but she has been busy already trying to think of scenarios and what she would be doing to help him through it. One of the good things about her being here, with money of her own, is that she can actually make these things happen and she's damn thankful for it.
Her brow furrows as he lays down, and she sits at the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back. "I'm sure room service can figure out how to get you crappy jell-o, if you don't want to miss out on the experience."
"Yeah, yeah, go on you braggart," he sighs, attempting at something playful when she mentions the private doctor, but it comes out flat.
Sleep would go a long way, really, but he knows that withdrawal is nothing more than staring down insomnia with a body full to bursting with pins and needles and fire. Give it a few days and he might feel like he has control over his nerves again, but for now he doesn't. He wiggles around in the bed before he negotiates his head into her lap, an arm draped across her knees.
"They're gonna put me in restrains when they get in here, so don't freak out, okay?" He laughs softly, clinging to her like a lost child. "And while a hotel sounds like everything I want right now I should stay here. This is gonna be a doozie," he winces as his stomach seizes up again in his gut. "And when we'll get on a jetplane and kiss this sorry fucker goodbye. Over martinis though? God, a martini..." He rolls onto his back, looking up at her, turning his head once to speak into her belly. "You hear that you little shit? Martinis. I'll have your mom's, for your benefit, of course."
"What's the point of you resting here if you're not going to rest?"
The idea of Klaus being put in restrains immediately makes her shoulders tense, but she tries to keep her features normal for his benefit. The last thing he needs is for her to throw a fit, when he's already dealing with all of this. Granted, she knows that she should trust him because obviously he has done this before, but the idea of him being tied down is enough to make that sense of overprotectiveness kick in in a way that she hasn't felt in years.
For now, though, she just stays still, letting him get comfortable on her lap as she idly runs her fingers through his hair. When he speaks into her belly, she laughs softly, a warm smile on her face. "You're so thoughtful." She brushes his hair back, silent for a moment.
Finally, "Is that what you want to do, then? Stay here? If we could do anything. Literally, anything. Don't worry about logistics. Do you want to stay here?"
"You can't rest when your blood is all of 75% opioids darling. That's just not how that works. When I close my eyes I get my own personal laser show."
Klaus knows the only way he stands a chance at getting better is to stay, let the doctors help him through the withdrawal and send him on his way. He knows the responsible thing to do is to tell Allison to leave, and have her return in a few days when he's moderately stable again. He might actually stand a chance at turning himself around that way, but he's never made it far enough out of recovery without another fix, it's hard to say what the outcome would be.
But she's petting his hair which does wonders for his anxiety, and he all but melts into her lap,
"I don't care where we go or when. Whatever." Klaus says finally, honest. "Just take me with you. Please."
Allison waits for his response, her fingers finding a rhythm in the way that they move through his hair. She's trying to give him something to focus on, something to soothe him so that he can at least get some rest in the meantime.
"I'm not leaving without you," she promises. "Let me make a call, okay? We'll be out of here soon."
If there's one thing that Hollywood has experience in, after all, is knowing how to handle addictions. Especially in a private manner, when a slip could end someone's career. In this case the help is not for herself, but she knows that her assistant can help to get them set up in no time with whatever they may need. Hell, she had already sent her an email with information while she had been on her way here, so she's sure that she'll have ideas on how to do this.
Without moving him off her lap, she reaches for the phone next to the bed and dials the number that she knows so well. She asks her assistant to set them up at a hotel downtown, to use one of her alias and to make sure to have someone available for her brother by the time they make it there, and she's promised a turnaround time of an hour. It's not ideal, but at least by the time that she hangs up she feels a little better about the situation. There's a plan in place.
"Do you want some water, or do you want to try to get some sleep while we wait?"
Allison sounds like she has everything under control in a way that Klaus envies, and has envied his whole life. Despite their father's mistreatment, all the mishaps with Luther and their siblings, Allison had a cool calm about her that he could never fully wrap his head around. She's no different now, comforting him while sorting out lodging and giving detailed instructions without batting an eye.
He doesn't entirely hear everything she says though, his mind drifting in and out, unable to really focus on anything now that he's calmed down and stopped moving. It's not exhaustion, per se, because he doesn't feel tired, but his brain simply can't keep up.
"Hm?" He looks up at her, bleary eyed. "No. I'm fine. I'm just dandy. I feel like I've been hit by a freight train." He turns his face back to her middle once again, yawning before he speaks. "In case you didn't know, drugs are bad, kid."
It's funny, for as much as she sounds like she's in control, there's something deep down that always lingers, making her question herself. She does a good job at hiding it, and that part she has an advantage over her brothers, but it's still there. It's Reginald, his voice worming itself into her brain, but she has learned to at least diminish it enough to not let her distract her.
Especially now, with what Klaus is dealing with. He needs stability in more ways than one, and Allison is determined to offer that to him no matter what. Of that, she's absolutely certain. In a few days she knows that the tabloids might get a hold of the story, that maybe then their siblings might give a shit about all this at that point (Luther, mainly, as he questions what the hell she's doing), but even that she's already mentally prepared for it. And, as far as she's concerned, they'll be safe in California, away from this goddamned place.
With a chuckle, she shakes her head slightly at him. "...you know, other than Patrick and my doctor, no one else knows yet. This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but I'm really glad you didn't find out through a magazine."
“Oh, let me call the National Inquirer now and tell them all I know about Allison Hargreeves and her unborn baby. Who is the father, where did he come from, and who is that dashing man at her elbow now with the chic, junkie aesthetic?”
He sighs and and shakes his head, eyes growing heavy. Just as he seems to settle, a nurse comes in with some orderlies and clucks her tongue. “We have to get him up, dear,” the nurse says with a tight smile. It’s just as Klaus had warned her, after all, as they urge him back into the bed.
“Mr. Hargreeves, seeing as this is the second time you’ve taken your IV out...” she goes on, explaining just why they’ll have to put his hands in restraints. He doesn’t complain much, waiting for the stick of the velcro.
“Oh, you could do it harder, you know, I’ve always liked it rough.” The nurse looks more than annoyed at him, cinching the cuffs before she reworks his IV. The woman looks at Allison, wary, because sure, she knows the face. Who doesn’t know the Hargreeves kids, after all?
“I’ll be back with a sedative to help him sleep,” she says before she slips out. Klaus huffs, raising his hands slightly against the cuffs, pouting.
“She didn’t even get me close. I’m so disappointed.”
Allison herself had been starting to relax, settled in this quiet moment as Klaus looks as if he’s ready to doze off while she runs her fingers through his hair, the sound of rain outside the window. For a moment she can almost forget that they’re in the hospital, that just an hour ago she had been a nervous wreck as she waited for her brother to wake up.
The nurse walking in brings it all back. The sight of the orderlies, of the cuffs makes Allison’s stomach flip, but instead she just looks outright annoyed and ready to step in. She doesn’t only because she doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of Klaus - he had warned her, after all - but the set of her jaw and her shoulders makes it very obvious that she is most definitely not okay with any of this. Especially when the nurse looks annoyed at Klaus’ comment. And, while sure, she doesn’t doubt that he can come across as annoying in a situation like this she she’s just trying to do her job, Allison is too protective of her brother to be okay with even the wrong look in his general direction right now.
She waits for them to be alone again before she speaks, letting her temper simmer.
It doesn’t work.
To Klaus, though, she’s able to keep her voice controlled. As if this is normal between them. “I’m going to talk to your doctor, give me just a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right back.” She pauses before her hands move towards the cuffs, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t unhook the IV. Just wait here, I’ll get this straightened out.”
Klaus drifts a little once he’s settled back into the bed. He has no doubt that they’ll try and give him something to knock him out much of the night if he stays here, which could be a blessing and a curse. He can’t help but laugh a little at Allison’s fury, it shows all in her face, even if the nurses don’t notice.
“Whoa there, hellcat,” he says, words slurring with fatigue. But having the restraints removed gives him the ability to roll onto his side again, curling into himself. “Don’t kill anyone, then we’d be in a real pinch. You promised me a hotel that has a bath tub, remember? A girl needs her time to soak, don’t take that away from me.”
Even in the most dire situations he can’t keep himself from making wisecracks, it’s a method of defense, if nothing else. But the hospital bed is more comfortable than the street, the floor, wherever else he might have been. He pulls the blanket back up over himself, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone.
The comment comes out unchecked, but well, it’s not a lie. Patrick would think she’s just messing around by saying something like this, but Klaus knows how lethal she can be so if he shows any concern over it she’s ready to assure him she’s kidding. Kind of.
When he pulls up the covers, she tucks him in as if to help him get more comfortable before kissing his temple.
“I’ll just be a few minutes. Try to take a nap if you can, I’ll be right back.”
She brushes his hair back one more time before she adjusts her cardigan and walks towards the door. Although she’s not wearing heels, there’s a sharpness to her footsteps that’s impossible to miss as she heads out to look for the doctor in charge. By the time she’s done with the conversation, she has arranged for transport and to get Klaus discharged to a private physician that will be with them at the hotel. Her promise to bring him back if he gets worse is honest, because she’s not foolish enough to think she’ll be able to handle everything, but she has hope that they can at least get him stable and comfortable enough off site. Not here, and definitely not in restrains.
By the time she’s ready to get back in the room, a courier drops off a bag of clothes for Klaus thanks to her assistant, and that’s her sign. They’re good to go. Holding the bag close, she walks back towards her brother’s bedside, looking considerably calmer. She just hopes Klaus didn’t do anything to land himself a longer stay here, one that would be harder for her to undo.
Luckily for Allison, Klaus behaved since she left the room, and instead of making trouble he's curled around himself on the bed, pulling the thin hospital blankets around his shoulders. He looks impossibly like the young, frightened boy from many moons ago, trying to ward away the ghosts. His hands shake, more from the drug use than the cold, and he's dozed off in her absence.
But with discharge comes his sister and behind her, the RN from before who looks altogether suspicious of the situation at hand. She begins turning off monitors and IV pumps but that's when she notices the restraints have been opened. There's a look that she passes briefly between Klaus and Allison before she sighs. "Mr. Hargreeves, we'll need to get that IV out now."
Klaus blinks blearily at his sister then turns when he feels the pressure of the nurse's hand on his arm. "Oh, shit, what'd I do this time," he groans but offers his arm out to her with little fuss, just as he promised his sister. He doesn't expect for her to remove the IV, however, and band-aid his arm with a little huff before she leaves again, all of his paperwork set.
"Oh Matlida doesn't you one bit," Klaus laughs, shaking his head while he blinks his eyes slowly at her. She's calmer than before, but it doesn't give him any comfort. "What is it?" He sobers, face growing more serious. "They're letting me go, right? With you." There's an edge of panic that limns his voice. "Just let me... just let me stay at your hotel for a day and I'll come back."
God, a real bed, a real shower, a quiet room. It could be the shadiest motel in the whole city and it would be more glamorous than the hospital, than the streets, than stranger's beds. "I'd bargain with you but voila, what you see is what you can get. Want one of my sexy hospital socks?" He raises one leg and wiggles his toes for good measure.
If Allison looks a little smug upon the return to the room, carrying a pair of spare scrubs under her arm and a bag, it's because she is. Between her power, and the money that she now has available to her, there isn't a single string that isn't pulled in order to get Klaus out of here as soon as possible. It helps that her assistant had pulled through and will have a private doctor that will be waiting for them at the suite when they arrive to the hotel, and he'll be able to help Klaus through the worst of his withdrawals before they make it back home to California.
Or, well, she hopes that Klaus will agree to go with her to California after that is done. A small part of her fears that he won't even stay in the hotel for longer than a day, that she'll wake up and find him gone, but she's trying to ignore that as much as possible. She has to hope that he wants to get better. She has to hope that this is going to work, otherwise she doesn't know if she can handle the alternative.
As Klaus speaks, Allison is ready to interrupt him but he's rambling before she can get a word in. She sets the bag and scrubs down at the foot of his bed, before she walks over to him and frames his face gently in her hands like how she would do whenever he would have a particularly bad nightmare. As if to help him focus on her, and she kisses his forehead.
"Hey, it's okay," she assures him, her voice quiet as if to counter whatever voices are raging through his head. "We're leaving. There's a car waiting for us downstairs, and a hotel room to get to. You still want that tub?" She smiles at him before she stands, and offers a hand to help him out of bed. "I got you a pair of scrubs, if you don't want your clothes. There'll be clothes for you at the hotel, my assistant just couldn't get them here fast enough. The priority was the hotel and someone to help out at the hotel, and that's done, so...we're good to go if you're ready."
Klaus stills under her touch, surprised by ho gentle and understanding she is, coupled with the kiss to his forehead. It doesn't quiet the voices, the ghosts, but she grounds him and that's worth every second.
"God, I want that tub," he sighs deeply, the thought of soaking in a hot bath enough to spur him to move. He reaches for her hand and slides out of the bed with a groan, stretching for a moment, as though he isn't standing in the middle of a hospital, shortly after a near-fatal overdose. He gravitates toward the scrubs, having the decency to tug the pants on under his gown before he starts to pull that over his head. He's thin but not scrawny, some muscle left on his arms and chest by the grace of god, but there are valleys and dips around his ribs and narrow hips that nod to poor nutrition, or lack thereof altogether.
He wrangles the shirt over his head and sighs, running fingers back through his hair.
"The chariot awaits," he muses tiredly, the dark circles under his eyes telling. Hopefully she doesn't expect him to wait for a wheel chair or other nonsense, because he's stumbling toward the sliding hospital door immediately. He's not unsteady on his feet so much as his whole body moves of its own volition, as though taking up as much space as possibly as he sways easily.
"And you have an assistant now? Did we talk about this before? Are they hot? You deserved to have a hot assistant. Not hotter than you, don't want competition, but they better be pretty." He reaches for her hand, squeezing it when he manages to make contact, lacing their fingers together if she'll allow it. "God, I could fall asleep standing up."
Edited (too used to my s2 icons) 2020-10-02 05:48 (UTC)
Her heart twists painfully in her chest at the sight of how he looks, the way his ribs and hips are far too pronounced, but she makes it a point to not stare. Instead, she busies herself with grabbing her purse and the bag of his personal belongings, before adjusting her cardigan again so that she can hide the swell of her belly in case there are any nosy people around. By now she wouldn't doubt it, considering the way she had pulled all the stops to make Klaus's release a possibility, but it's fine. Based on how she fixes her clothes to fit that image that she has to keep up, it's obvious that she's well versed in doing this kind of thing.
As he begins walking, Allison tries to tell him to wait, but before she can he's already moving, and she just sighs under her breath as she rushes after him. "We could have waited for the wheelchair, you know."
Although, judging by the RN's expression when she had left the room, she idly wonders if she would have just left them waiting considering her disapproval of what they're doing.
Whatever she's thinking, it all goes away when she feels the way he reaches for her hand and, without hesitation, she laces her fingers with his. There had been a moment when this felt like something she wanted but wouldn't get, when she feared Klaus would tell her to leave or that he would find a way out on his own without letting her try to help, and she's just so glad that she had been wrong.
"She's very pretty," she answers with a small laugh, smiling up at him. Without her usual heels thanks to the pregnancy, she's back to the usual height differences they had the last time they had seen each other as teenagers, and she can't help but give his hand a gentle squeeze. "You can sleep in the car, I promise. Are you sure you don't want a wheelchair?"
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His question about whether or not Patrick knows about her siblings makes her frown. In a way, sure, she deserves that considering how she left and the distance she has managed to keep the last few years, even during the worst times when she actually regretted leaving. But, even with all that distance, she can never forget that they are her family.
Before she can answer, though, Klaus sits up and Allison stands up along with him, already reaching for the little bowl that the nurse had left on the nightstand earlier. She's ready to help him, to do whatever he needs, but when the worst of it seems to pass she just sets the bowl back down. Instead of sitting on the chair she had been using, she sits on the bed next to him, gently rubbing his back.
"Okay, first of all? Yes, Patrick knows about you. It's fine, Klaus. You don't have to stay with us forever, we can find you another place you'd like. But you can be closer. You don't have to do this alone, I can help you. I want to help you. You don't have to afford it, because I can."
There's a hint of desperation as she tries to convince him, because she's terrified of what could happen if he stays here. She for sure cannot stay here, and it's not even just because she's married and Patrick wouldn't want to live in the city. Allison finds this place suffocating, and for years it felt like it would undo them all. She doesn't want that to happen to him.
She sighs, moving her hand from his back to his shoulder, pulling him slightly closer. "I'm sorry, for not coming before, but I'm here now. And I can-- I have a place where you can stay. Come on, please. Please, at least think about it. We can drive back if you don't want to fly, but I just... I don't want to go back without you."
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He rakes both hands back through his hair and releases a shaky breath once his body seems to settle back into the painful, nauseated normal that comes with withdrawal. He’s already itching all over, his skin cold and clammy, his fingers trembling. Stars burst white hot behind his eyes with every blink, but the hand on his shoulder brings him back down to Earth, and he leans heavy into her side.
“I must look really bad then,” he laughs quietly, a huff of a sound. But can he deny Allison? Can he deny the idea that maybe, for once in his adult life, having someone there might help? He’s always been weak where his sisters are concerned; he can’t deny them anything even if he tried. “But sure, let’a have a delightful California vacation. I’ll do yoga, practice all the deep breathing and maybe find a nice little Buddha of my own for a nice jaunty time. I mean, you can’t deny just looking at a statue of the man can get you going.”
He presses his cheek into her shoulder, his eyes closing. It feels like a failure, accepting her invite, feels like one more score in his record. How long until the needle scratches too deep, until he comes out slipping and broken and unusable. He can hear Luther now, the judgement in his tone, Diego’s eye roll that marks his disappointment like a knife poorly sharpened.
“I’ll go.”
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If Klaus' attention were to shift to her midriff, especially since the cardigan that she's wearing opens up a little wider in the position that she's in, he'll be able to notice the slight swell of her belly. One that she has been very careful to hide from the media, and that she hasn't brought up now only because she doesn't want him to feel like it's a token to blackmail him with. But, well, that new life that she's carrying is a big reason why she's asking him to come with her to California. She wants her brother to survive long enough to meet her baby. For so damn long she negated the idea of becoming a mother, of ever having a family because it's pretty damn obvious that the Hargreeves aren't built for it... But, now that she's pregnant, she's realizing how wrong she had been. And how, especially with her baby coming, she wants that family to be near even if she doesn't quite know how to bridge the gap with the rest.
With Klaus, it has always been different. And, especially for that reason, she wants him in her life. One way or another. It won't be easy, and she knows that, but she'd rather have that than the regret at not even trying.
"Thank you." She turns her head to kiss the top of his head. "I've missed you, you know."
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He thinks, for a moment, that maybe it's just the way she's sitting, but he knows the media would eat her alive for even thinking about gaining a pound. The thought that she could be pregnant, that there's a baby on the way for one of the Hargreeves, the one inviting him to live with her?
"Were you gonna try and keep this whole thing a secret, or what?" He gestures to her middle, not yet extracting himself from her side. He doesn't have the energy. "You do realize you're inviting a wild, deranged drug addict to live with you and your new little family. Pretty sure that's not gonna go over well with Mr. Allison Hargreeves."
He sighs and pushes himself away from her then, having to steady himself on the bedside rail as the room does a funny little lurch to one side. "Allison, you shouldn't be here," he groans, suddenly frustrated. "You've got a whole grand life out west. If that bump is what I think it is, and not a big lunch, then you need to march yourself right out of this place. I'm not going to be able to fix this."
He lets his hands fall into his lap miserably. "You need to go have your perfect little baby with you're unfairly attractive husband and make lots and lots of money. I can't just turn around and quit cold turkey and let all the undead assholes come running back. I can't do it." There's fear in the insistence.
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“And where should I be? Home, wondering if you made it? Ignoring the fact that you are here, alone? Waiting for the next phone call that tells me that the next overdose was worse and someone needs to identify you?”
There’s a firmness to her voice, but she can’t help the way it also shakes. It’s hard to tell if it’s at the indignation of his suggestion to not be here, or the fear she feels at all those scenarios, because they both feel like a colliding force that is trying to choke her.
She reaches for his hand, giving it a squeeze as she tries to get him to look at her as if to assure him she’s being honest. “I don’t expect or think that it will be easy, or that you’ll be clean because you agree to come with me. I know it’s going to be a process, but you don’t have to do it alone. Please, let me help you. At least try it out. Please.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she looks down at their hands together as her thumb moves gently along his skin. “You and I will never really know normalcy, and I know that because we’ll always have our upbringing and our powers. I get that. But I want my baby to have something that resembles normal. I can’t give her a good grandfather from my side of the family. I can’t even promise family reunions, or holidays because we hardly even know how to celebrate those. But I want to give her at least an uncle. I want her to meet you, Klaus. You don’t have to worry about Patrick, or anything else. I just— I can’t leave you here.”
With her free hand, she wipes the tears away almost stubbornly, as if mad at herself for crying but she can’t help it.
“If you decide you want to come back,” she forces herself to add, and it’s obvious that it’s not easy for her to do so. “If you don’t want to stay, then that’s up to you. But let’s at least try it before you decide you can’t.”
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Klaus feels the familiar sensation of anger coursing through his blood, though it isn't necessarily directed at Allison. A cruel part of him wants to remind her that she left. She left him as much as they all left each other and maybe caring now is too little, too late. He doesn't, however, because he knows too well that anger is meant for himself, not for her.
"Normal?" A hysterical laugh bursts from his chest. "You think I resemble normal? Oh yes, let's sit here and have a heart to heart while John who died next door is fucking breathing down my god damned neck." He yanks his hands away from hers and rubs his forearms as they pimple with goose flesh, his hands quaking, with anger, with fear "But yeah, A+ nanny material, sign me up."
He needs to get out of this place. The realization is so sudden and so real that he scrambles for the blankets, shoving them off to reveal skinny, pale legs, spotted with the occasional bruise. The oxygen and heart rate monitor wails as he rips the tape from his finger. "Then lets go. I need to get out of this place." Does he have a choice? He can't look at her, see those tears and deny her anything. While he wants the chance to go to California, see what his life could be there, a small, childish part of him wants it to have been his choice.
The IVs come next, frantic hands peeling back tape and digging. Nothing worse than the bite of a needle on a hot night in a sleazy apartment, right. His hands shake too much to pull the IV out, however, shake to the point he lets out a near growl of frustration that dissolves into a quiet sob. He presses his palms over his ears instead, sucking in shaky, uncertain breaths, whimpering.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."
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She tries to speak over him, but Klaus keeps talking and there’s not a lot she can say. What could she say? She knows it isn’t fair to ask this of him. But, at the same time, leaving him to figure it out feels wrong, too. There’s a brief moment when she finds herself tempted to Rumor him, to convince him to come with her and damn the consequences, but she bites the inside of her lips as if to force herself to not go there no matter how much she wants to.
When he stands, Allison shoots up too, trying so hard to not shove him back on the bed but staying close enough in case he needs support. Last thing she wants is for him to fall and hurt himself.
When his palms press against his ears, Allison starts to approach him again. If he pulls back or away she won’t force him to come into contact with her, but if he lets her she’s ready to at least steady him.
“Can you please sit down, at least?”
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He leans forward into her, pressing his face against her shoulder, his own shoulders shaking as he comes down from the hysteria, the tears. He tries to focus on the monitors, the way they alarm, dissonant. "I can hear them everywhere," he says quietly. It's a hospital. So many people have died here. "The longer I sit here, the more I see. They come out of the fucking walls in swarms. I need to be numb again."
Thankfully this is Allison he's making the desperate plea to and not a frenzied hospital orderly. After all, they'd diagnose him with hallucinations and psychotic breaks and maybe even a dash of schizophrenia if he's not too careful. He sucks in a shaky breath, using every beat of his heart to begin laying the bricks of his defenses.
"Welcome home, Allison! Did you know your brother is a fucking mess? He sure is pretty but that's about all he's got going for him. Don't get too close, he might have rabies."
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"We're all a fucking mess," she murmurs against his hair. "You know that hasn't changed just because we're not all at the house together."
She presses a kiss against the top of his head again, quiet for a moment before she speaks. "Give me ten minutes and I'll get you out of here, we'll go to a hotel and you can rest there." A beat. "You can figure out what you want to do after you get more sleep. Are you feeling well enough to do that?"
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Klaus laughs weakly and leans back, holding his hands up in false surrender. "But I'm a danger to myself. They will strongly advise you to think twice about such a morally poor decision."
Rolling his eyes he carefully slides back onto the bed, the weight of his body heavy as he flops onto his side. "Besides what would I do without my fill of artificially flavored gelatin."
All his bravado doesn't mask the way his hands shake uncontrollably, the way he sweats, the way he scratches at his forearms like his skin is like to crawl off his body. "But honestly a hotel sounds amazing," he admits, a tiny crack in the facade. "A real fucking bath tub. God." He could cry at the thought of it.
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She has thought this through already, what she would do after leaving the hospital. This is her first rodeo with him like this, but she has been busy already trying to think of scenarios and what she would be doing to help him through it. One of the good things about her being here, with money of her own, is that she can actually make these things happen and she's damn thankful for it.
Her brow furrows as he lays down, and she sits at the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back. "I'm sure room service can figure out how to get you crappy jell-o, if you don't want to miss out on the experience."
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Sleep would go a long way, really, but he knows that withdrawal is nothing more than staring down insomnia with a body full to bursting with pins and needles and fire. Give it a few days and he might feel like he has control over his nerves again, but for now he doesn't. He wiggles around in the bed before he negotiates his head into her lap, an arm draped across her knees.
"They're gonna put me in restrains when they get in here, so don't freak out, okay?" He laughs softly, clinging to her like a lost child. "And while a hotel sounds like everything I want right now I should stay here. This is gonna be a doozie," he winces as his stomach seizes up again in his gut. "And when we'll get on a jetplane and kiss this sorry fucker goodbye. Over martinis though? God, a martini..." He rolls onto his back, looking up at her, turning his head once to speak into her belly. "You hear that you little shit? Martinis. I'll have your mom's, for your benefit, of course."
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The idea of Klaus being put in restrains immediately makes her shoulders tense, but she tries to keep her features normal for his benefit. The last thing he needs is for her to throw a fit, when he's already dealing with all of this. Granted, she knows that she should trust him because obviously he has done this before, but the idea of him being tied down is enough to make that sense of overprotectiveness kick in in a way that she hasn't felt in years.
For now, though, she just stays still, letting him get comfortable on her lap as she idly runs her fingers through his hair. When he speaks into her belly, she laughs softly, a warm smile on her face. "You're so thoughtful." She brushes his hair back, silent for a moment.
Finally, "Is that what you want to do, then? Stay here? If we could do anything. Literally, anything. Don't worry about logistics. Do you want to stay here?"
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Klaus knows the only way he stands a chance at getting better is to stay, let the doctors help him through the withdrawal and send him on his way. He knows the responsible thing to do is to tell Allison to leave, and have her return in a few days when he's moderately stable again. He might actually stand a chance at turning himself around that way, but he's never made it far enough out of recovery without another fix, it's hard to say what the outcome would be.
But she's petting his hair which does wonders for his anxiety, and he all but melts into her lap,
"I don't care where we go or when. Whatever." Klaus says finally, honest. "Just take me with you. Please."
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"I'm not leaving without you," she promises. "Let me make a call, okay? We'll be out of here soon."
If there's one thing that Hollywood has experience in, after all, is knowing how to handle addictions. Especially in a private manner, when a slip could end someone's career. In this case the help is not for herself, but she knows that her assistant can help to get them set up in no time with whatever they may need. Hell, she had already sent her an email with information while she had been on her way here, so she's sure that she'll have ideas on how to do this.
Without moving him off her lap, she reaches for the phone next to the bed and dials the number that she knows so well. She asks her assistant to set them up at a hotel downtown, to use one of her alias and to make sure to have someone available for her brother by the time they make it there, and she's promised a turnaround time of an hour. It's not ideal, but at least by the time that she hangs up she feels a little better about the situation. There's a plan in place.
"Do you want some water, or do you want to try to get some sleep while we wait?"
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He doesn't entirely hear everything she says though, his mind drifting in and out, unable to really focus on anything now that he's calmed down and stopped moving. It's not exhaustion, per se, because he doesn't feel tired, but his brain simply can't keep up.
"Hm?" He looks up at her, bleary eyed. "No. I'm fine. I'm just dandy. I feel like I've been hit by a freight train." He turns his face back to her middle once again, yawning before he speaks. "In case you didn't know, drugs are bad, kid."
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Especially now, with what Klaus is dealing with. He needs stability in more ways than one, and Allison is determined to offer that to him no matter what. Of that, she's absolutely certain. In a few days she knows that the tabloids might get a hold of the story, that maybe then their siblings might give a shit about all this at that point (Luther, mainly, as he questions what the hell she's doing), but even that she's already mentally prepared for it. And, as far as she's concerned, they'll be safe in California, away from this goddamned place.
With a chuckle, she shakes her head slightly at him. "...you know, other than Patrick and my doctor, no one else knows yet. This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but I'm really glad you didn't find out through a magazine."
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He sighs and and shakes his head, eyes growing heavy. Just as he seems to settle, a nurse comes in with some orderlies and clucks her tongue. “We have to get him up, dear,” the nurse says with a tight smile. It’s just as Klaus had warned her, after all, as they urge him back into the bed.
“Mr. Hargreeves, seeing as this is the second time you’ve taken your IV out...” she goes on, explaining just why they’ll have to put his hands in restraints. He doesn’t complain much, waiting for the stick of the velcro.
“Oh, you could do it harder, you know, I’ve always liked it rough.” The nurse looks more than annoyed at him, cinching the cuffs before she reworks his IV. The woman looks at Allison, wary, because sure, she knows the face. Who doesn’t know the Hargreeves kids, after all?
“I’ll be back with a sedative to help him sleep,” she says before she slips out. Klaus huffs, raising his hands slightly against the cuffs, pouting.
“She didn’t even get me close. I’m so disappointed.”
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The nurse walking in brings it all back. The sight of the orderlies, of the cuffs makes Allison’s stomach flip, but instead she just looks outright annoyed and ready to step in. She doesn’t only because she doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of Klaus - he had warned her, after all - but the set of her jaw and her shoulders makes it very obvious that she is most definitely not okay with any of this. Especially when the nurse looks annoyed at Klaus’ comment. And, while sure, she doesn’t doubt that he can come across as annoying in a situation like this she she’s just trying to do her job, Allison is too protective of her brother to be okay with even the wrong look in his general direction right now.
She waits for them to be alone again before she speaks, letting her temper simmer.
It doesn’t work.
To Klaus, though, she’s able to keep her voice controlled. As if this is normal between them. “I’m going to talk to your doctor, give me just a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right back.” She pauses before her hands move towards the cuffs, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t unhook the IV. Just wait here, I’ll get this straightened out.”
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“Whoa there, hellcat,” he says, words slurring with fatigue. But having the restraints removed gives him the ability to roll onto his side again, curling into himself. “Don’t kill anyone, then we’d be in a real pinch. You promised me a hotel that has a bath tub, remember? A girl needs her time to soak, don’t take that away from me.”
Even in the most dire situations he can’t keep himself from making wisecracks, it’s a method of defense, if nothing else. But the hospital bed is more comfortable than the street, the floor, wherever else he might have been. He pulls the blanket back up over himself, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone.
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The comment comes out unchecked, but well, it’s not a lie. Patrick would think she’s just messing around by saying something like this, but Klaus knows how lethal she can be so if he shows any concern over it she’s ready to assure him she’s kidding. Kind of.
When he pulls up the covers, she tucks him in as if to help him get more comfortable before kissing his temple.
“I’ll just be a few minutes. Try to take a nap if you can, I’ll be right back.”
She brushes his hair back one more time before she adjusts her cardigan and walks towards the door. Although she’s not wearing heels, there’s a sharpness to her footsteps that’s impossible to miss as she heads out to look for the doctor in charge. By the time she’s done with the conversation, she has arranged for transport and to get Klaus discharged to a private physician that will be with them at the hotel. Her promise to bring him back if he gets worse is honest, because she’s not foolish enough to think she’ll be able to handle everything, but she has hope that they can at least get him stable and comfortable enough off site. Not here, and definitely not in restrains.
By the time she’s ready to get back in the room, a courier drops off a bag of clothes for Klaus thanks to her assistant, and that’s her sign. They’re good to go. Holding the bag close, she walks back towards her brother’s bedside, looking considerably calmer. She just hopes Klaus didn’t do anything to land himself a longer stay here, one that would be harder for her to undo.
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But with discharge comes his sister and behind her, the RN from before who looks altogether suspicious of the situation at hand. She begins turning off monitors and IV pumps but that's when she notices the restraints have been opened. There's a look that she passes briefly between Klaus and Allison before she sighs. "Mr. Hargreeves, we'll need to get that IV out now."
Klaus blinks blearily at his sister then turns when he feels the pressure of the nurse's hand on his arm. "Oh, shit, what'd I do this time," he groans but offers his arm out to her with little fuss, just as he promised his sister. He doesn't expect for her to remove the IV, however, and band-aid his arm with a little huff before she leaves again, all of his paperwork set.
"Oh Matlida doesn't you one bit," Klaus laughs, shaking his head while he blinks his eyes slowly at her. She's calmer than before, but it doesn't give him any comfort. "What is it?" He sobers, face growing more serious. "They're letting me go, right? With you." There's an edge of panic that limns his voice. "Just let me... just let me stay at your hotel for a day and I'll come back."
God, a real bed, a real shower, a quiet room. It could be the shadiest motel in the whole city and it would be more glamorous than the hospital, than the streets, than stranger's beds. "I'd bargain with you but voila, what you see is what you can get. Want one of my sexy hospital socks?" He raises one leg and wiggles his toes for good measure.
"I can't stay here. It's so fucking loud."
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Or, well, she hopes that Klaus will agree to go with her to California after that is done. A small part of her fears that he won't even stay in the hotel for longer than a day, that she'll wake up and find him gone, but she's trying to ignore that as much as possible. She has to hope that he wants to get better. She has to hope that this is going to work, otherwise she doesn't know if she can handle the alternative.
As Klaus speaks, Allison is ready to interrupt him but he's rambling before she can get a word in. She sets the bag and scrubs down at the foot of his bed, before she walks over to him and frames his face gently in her hands like how she would do whenever he would have a particularly bad nightmare. As if to help him focus on her, and she kisses his forehead.
"Hey, it's okay," she assures him, her voice quiet as if to counter whatever voices are raging through his head. "We're leaving. There's a car waiting for us downstairs, and a hotel room to get to. You still want that tub?" She smiles at him before she stands, and offers a hand to help him out of bed. "I got you a pair of scrubs, if you don't want your clothes. There'll be clothes for you at the hotel, my assistant just couldn't get them here fast enough. The priority was the hotel and someone to help out at the hotel, and that's done, so...we're good to go if you're ready."
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"God, I want that tub," he sighs deeply, the thought of soaking in a hot bath enough to spur him to move. He reaches for her hand and slides out of the bed with a groan, stretching for a moment, as though he isn't standing in the middle of a hospital, shortly after a near-fatal overdose. He gravitates toward the scrubs, having the decency to tug the pants on under his gown before he starts to pull that over his head. He's thin but not scrawny, some muscle left on his arms and chest by the grace of god, but there are valleys and dips around his ribs and narrow hips that nod to poor nutrition, or lack thereof altogether.
He wrangles the shirt over his head and sighs, running fingers back through his hair.
"The chariot awaits," he muses tiredly, the dark circles under his eyes telling. Hopefully she doesn't expect him to wait for a wheel chair or other nonsense, because he's stumbling toward the sliding hospital door immediately. He's not unsteady on his feet so much as his whole body moves of its own volition, as though taking up as much space as possibly as he sways easily.
"And you have an assistant now? Did we talk about this before? Are they hot? You deserved to have a hot assistant. Not hotter than you, don't want competition, but they better be pretty." He reaches for her hand, squeezing it when he manages to make contact, lacing their fingers together if she'll allow it. "God, I could fall asleep standing up."
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As he begins walking, Allison tries to tell him to wait, but before she can he's already moving, and she just sighs under her breath as she rushes after him. "We could have waited for the wheelchair, you know."
Although, judging by the RN's expression when she had left the room, she idly wonders if she would have just left them waiting considering her disapproval of what they're doing.
Whatever she's thinking, it all goes away when she feels the way he reaches for her hand and, without hesitation, she laces her fingers with his. There had been a moment when this felt like something she wanted but wouldn't get, when she feared Klaus would tell her to leave or that he would find a way out on his own without letting her try to help, and she's just so glad that she had been wrong.
"She's very pretty," she answers with a small laugh, smiling up at him. Without her usual heels thanks to the pregnancy, she's back to the usual height differences they had the last time they had seen each other as teenagers, and she can't help but give his hand a gentle squeeze. "You can sleep in the car, I promise. Are you sure you don't want a wheelchair?"
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