The nurses have assured him that Diego will wake up in his own time. The head injury means he might take a little longer to come to, that he might be groggy or confused when he wakes, to not be alarmed. But the longer he sits, listening to the beeping and whirring of machines, to the murmurings of doctors of nurses, to the moans and screams of the freshly dead, he feels like he might scream.
He scrubs his palms over his face, fingers threading into his hair, gripping it. After the first half hour he turns, leaning his elbows on the man's beside, a hand resting over one of Diego's. Sure, they're not the cuddly type, they're not the gooey, warm, loving siblings that maybe he and Allison are, but holding his hand grounds him.
The voice, the movement, however, draws his eyes up. He stares at him, wide eyed and pushes to his feet, pressing his free hand softly to Diego's chest to keep him still. "Hey, there, buddy..." He says softly, on a nervous little laugh. "Could ask you the same thing. We really gotta stop meeting like this."
He looks like shit. He wants to ask him what happened, why he hadn't called, why he'd been so stupid, but he's just so relieved to see him back to normal that he bites back his inquiries. "You just stay still, yeah? Turns out someone forgot to take my phone number out of your wallet. So when they scraped you up off the sidewalk, they called me. So here I am, in all my midnight glory. How are you?"
A loaded question, he knows, but he doesn't have the wits to ask anything else. He knows how hot headed his brother can be, knows the hero-streak that he's held ever since they were kids. He always had a strong sense of justice, a stubborn devotion to right and wrong that many of them didn't have. They followed their father, but Diego always felt the pull of that moral compass and it showed in the way he handled all of them, in the way they all navigated around one another as children.
It's going to get him killed one day, Klaus thinks, as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, one leg propped up to get closer. "Thank god that pretty face is still intact, though how, I couldn't really tell you." A weak joke, but an attempt all the same.
The way that Klaus presses his hand against his chest settles the anxious energy that he can already feel gnawing at his nerves, and it helps him to not try to get up just yet. He hates hospitals. He despises needles, the stench of pain and blood that he feels he can smell as it hangs in the air, even if right now that’s partly his own.
He needs to get out of here, he thinks to himself, even if his body doesn’t cooperate just yet. His whole body feels foreign, like his limbs are too heavy to move. He doesn’t remember, but they had needed to sedate him once the doctors started working on him. Between the pain and the disorientation, Diego had fought back as if he was being attacked, and sedating him had been the only way they could patch him up.
“‘m fine,” he answers, his voice still groggy but his eyes are starting to look less aimless as he’s finally gaining lucidity. His whole body feels like an enormous bruise, and the small smile that faintly tugs at his lips at the joke is hard to maintain, but it’s fine. He’s fine. He has had worse, after all.
“You didn’t have to come. I’m gonna get out of here soon.” He says it with full certainty, as if he has gotten that confirmed by the doctor already, even if he doubts they’ll agree. But his legs feel fine, and he’s awake, so that’s enough for him. Staying here is pointless, he can do the laying around on his own, away from a hospital bed.
"Oh yeah, you're real fine. That's what I always think when I see someone half dead in a hospital bed, but don't mind me," he rolls his eyes at his brother, and though there's a playful lilt in his voice, there's double the pointed concern.
Klaus sighs, looking up at the monitors attached to his brother once then back down. "And I'll have you know you're staying here as long as they tell you to. Hospitals aren't exactly my kind of fun, either. Dozens of places to shoot up and have fun, but I've never looked very good in fluorescent white with my ass hanging out."
He's been to plenty of rehab centers and hospitals in his time. It's eerie being here, seeing as the last time he was in a place like this, it was because he nearly died himself. "And I'm not leaving so don't you even start or I'll tell them to tranq you all over again. Apparently you were a real champ when you came to. You didn't stab any of the hospital staff though, so you're doing swell."
The words spew out of him rapid-fire, but that's just the nerves talking. Keep talking, keep Diego focused, is what he tells himself. Especially as he begins to see some of the clarity working its way back into the man's eyes. "What happened?" In this case, he definitely doesn't want to see the other guys.
Diego rolls his eyes as well, although it’s halfhearted at best.
Until Klaus insists that he’s staying here for as long as it’s needed, and it makes him frown because no, he refuses to accept that. The idea of being on a hospital bed, with an IV in his arm shakes something within him that makes him almost nauseous.
Ah, so there’s a sensible Hargreeves after all, he can hear Patch saying as if she’s here in the room, how she always would be whenever he’d do something stupid and he’d find himself on a hospital bed. How she had been when he almost died, and had been unconscious for days. He can almost see her, too, on the chair that Klaus had been sitting on busy moments ago. The way her eyes betrayed the anger on her face, how the fear of losing him was stronger than her frustrations at how stupid Diego could be while he worked. And, although she’s not real and he’s just imagining her, it still makes his stomach twist with guilt.
He doesn’t say anything, though. For a moment it just looks as if he’s lost in thought, as if he’s still trying to clear the haze he’s in, even if for a moment the pain reflecting in his eyes is beyond whatever he could be feeling physically.
But then Klaus’s voice registers, and Diego closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to refocus. “I don’t know. I was working, then things went to shit. I don’t...remember much beyond that.” The way his brow furrows in frustration as he opens his eyes makes it obvious he’s not just trying to avoid the question, it’s the truth. He had blacked out at some point, and it all feels like a very distant, painful blur that he can’t quite bring into focus. He’s sore everywhere, and breathing feels like a strain considering the way the pain flares with every inhale, but he’s no stranger to broken ribs. Between his ‘job’ and the fights at the gym, he knows damn well what he’s looking at in terms of recovery. He’s not happy about it, but he at least knows what to expect.
“I need to get out of here,” he says with a sigh, starting to reach over for the IV line even if he can already guess the effort won’t go far. “I can’t be here.”
Klaus knows the fight that awaits him with Diego tucked into that hospital bed. He knows too well how much his brother hates hospitals, hates medical attention of any kind. Their time at the Academy meant injuries, meant illness, meant exhaustion, and they've seen one another in all states, but now Klaus actually has the power to help.
"You should be on vacation here, thank you very much," he tries weakly when Diego explains he'd been working. Working, of all things, in California. As if caring for his siblings hadn't been enough.
He reaches for Diego's hand the moment it moves, grips it gingerly and tugs it away from the taped IV line. "At least for tonight, yeah?" he sighs, looking down at his brother. "Then we'll escape and get out of here, hm? But you need to stay. You look like shit, you don't even remember what happened to you, and turns out these doctor types really know what they're doing. And while I appreciate that you were putting your few remaining brain cells to good use for great justice or some shit, but I'd like to make sure you still have those brain cells by the time you go home."
A sigh. "So whether you like it or not, you're gonna stay in that bed and let them treat you. And it sucks, trust me, been there done that, but its your turn to listen to me. I'm older than you, you know. You can't even pull the big brother card on me now, mister." He reaches to give his shoulder a soft jab for emphasis.
Diego sighs, but the effort is cut short considering the pain that it brings along. When he had landed in California weeks ago, he had not planned on working; he had figured he'd pack up and head out the moment that Klaus and Allison started acting and looking more like themselves. Once Allison wasn't hiding in her room all day, and once he was able to get to Klaus. Almost, in a way, as a way to ensure that they were okay before he could focus on anything else.
And he had, the last few weeks have been good. Not easy, but he hadn't expected them to be. But - as fucked up as it was - as they did better, Diego could feel that old urge creeping back in. The ones that needed to be taken care of were people that were out there, unprotected, in danger, getting robbed or beaten up, and...well. He had gotten too cocky. Too reckless. He should have probably waited to get back to New York, he knows that now, but it's as if the reckless streak that has only grown with the grief and pain of losing Patch is finally catching on. As if, now that he doesn't have anything else to really focus on, it had gotten too big for him to ignore anymore.
Part of him wants to get back out there right now. Being here, laid up, feels like a loss. It feels like a weakness - something that Reginald had drilled into them, but Diego has taken that lesson to heart even throughout the last thirteen years.
"God, you make it sound like I got maimed or something," he says in almost a grumbled sigh, but lets his arm settle back down. He wants to tell Klaus how this is nothing, how he has been hurt worse and he has the scars to prove it, but...he can't ignore the concern on his brother's face. Which he hates, because he can't ignore the twist of guilt that his gut makes, and he has to look away for a moment as he remembers someone else giving him a similar look once upon a time.
"Okay, fine. Just tonight." He stays still for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is a little quieter. "...thanks. For coming."
"Oh, getting the shit kicked out of you is pretty bad, whether you're maimed or not. But if you try and get out of this bed, rest assured you will be able to add maimed to your superhero resume."
Klaus lets out a sigh, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He hates seeing his brother like this. "Of course I'd come. You'd burn down the country to help me, so why wouldn't I do the same?"
He shrugs and rolls his eyes, glancing back toward the doors then to him. Diego was always there for him, even if they didn't always get along. Where Luther had been dad's shadow instead of a true leader, Diego had really been the family shield. He pets his brother's hand softly. "But you owe me, now, you see. Dragging me out of bed, didn't even get a pretty face on, and here we are for the whole world to see. Dear god the paps will be all over us. You're lucky they didn't get ahold of you already. They love a good family drama round here."
Reaching with his free hand, he tugs the hospital blanket up around his brother, keeping close to his side all the same. "Especially those who are finding creative ways to deal with their grief. Our family does do a lot of out-of-the-box thinking."
Had this been a simple street accident, or had Diego been distracted? Did he care that he was confined to a hospital bed right now, beaten and sore and bloody? He won't rush into all of that, because Klaus knows a thing or two about self-destructive behavior. He's just glad Diego's here and he's safe.
As rhetorical as his question is, Diego really didn't expect Klaus to do the same. Not specifically for anything Klaus has said or done - he knows damn well that he cares about him, but it's all Diego. Diego, who has grown so damn used to being the lone wolf in the pack. Diego, who cut himself off from their family the second he saw the opportunity to do so. Diego, who has almost died before, in another hospital, in another lifetime, and hadn't had visitors beyond Patch. Which, to be fair, it's not like Klaus knew back then what happened, but for a moment it had been a sore reminder of the fact that he could die and no one from his family came out of the woodwork.
He doesn't say any of that, though, or even gives it much thought. He just listens to Klaus as he talks, making a face when he talks about the paparazzi. Shit, he hadn't even thought of that.
"See, then that's definitely a reason to get the hell out of here before someone tries to get a picture of us. We wouldn't want to bring our dear sister any additional drama, would we." Especially considering the few shots that have leaked already, of them during their walks. Allison hadn't been to thrilled since some of them showed the injury that she still hasn't necessarily informed the public about, but at least her PR team had been able to control the situation.
Although, if he's honest, he's not necessarily thinking just of Allison right now. He just doesn't want to be here.
The comment about dealing with his grief makes him shake his head slightly. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to get at, but it was just bad luck. It happens, you know. Even to the best of us."
There's a touch of defensiveness in his tone, but it doesn't dawn on him until a moment later. He just pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment, though, as if somehow that will ease the way his head feels. "This isn't the first time this happened so don't turn it into something it isn't."
"They're gonna get a picture whether you like it or not. Welcome to Cali."
Klaus just considers the nosy media part of his every day life, but he does make a mental note to see what Allison's people can do to clean up anything left over from this little visit.
And while Klaus isn't too surprised by the defensiveness in his brother's tone, it does make him backpedal just slightly. He doesn't have that kind of forward, frank relationship with his brother. Not when it comes to these more emotional things, certainly. For while Klaus might be a little more willing to open up under pressure, he knows too well Diego hasn't had the same opportunity in many ways.
So Klaus lets go of Diego's hand in favor of plopping his chin into his own palm, propping his elbow up on one knee. "Ooh, badge of honor, not your first time, huh?" He smirks and gives a playful wink, even though that's not at all what Diego means, but Klaus knows too well he needs to diffuse the tension, to bring some levity back into the room. They can get into the nitty gritty shit later, when Diego's nice and drugged up and in a little less pain.
Thirty years and they still have so much to learn about one another.
"But that's not gonna stop me from being a fussy mother hen. Believe it or not, your wild, partying little brother makes a very good nursemaid. I look especially good in a little nurse's uniform. Should I go find one?"
The novelty of being on a magazine or a newspaper faded a long time ago for Diego, and the idea of appearing on either one again is beyond irritating. Although, if he were to be honest with himself, he'd realize that it's not really the paparazzi itself that he's annoyed with. He knows he had messed up. He had gotten sloppy. Now this added downside is just another consequence to his mistakes, and he hates it.
That's what he gets though, isn't it? For screwing it all up, for getting too comfortable. Learning lessons, as Reginald would call them.
The playful wink makes Diego just sigh under his breath, especially when he tells him he'll be fussing over him. Not that he's that surprised, really; Diego wouldn't say that he's close to any of his siblings, but if he had to choose someone? Klaus would definitely be the sibling he has always been closest to. They gravitated towards each other in ways that he never did with anyone else. They had protected each other in whatever ways they could figure out as children, the two with the quiet and vulnerable personalities trying to shield each other from their father's wrath. Life has molded them each differently, has forged them into different people than who they once had been - who they once could have been - but despite all those changes and all the years between them, Klaus is still who Diego falls back on.
That's why, right now, he doesn't necessarily mind having him here even if he hates the situation as a whole.
"You do that and I'm definitely hauling ass out of here, so don't." He's about to say something else when a nurse walks in, asking about his pain level and checking his vitals. Diego sounds almost monotone as he responds, as if he's reading from a script that he knows too well, because even if he's in a different city he's familiar with all the questions that these visit bring up since this is most definitely not his first rodeo, but he at least doesn't seem or sound too combative.
Except when his question about when he'll be out of here is answered with a 'why don't you get some rest, hun, we need to keep you under observation but you can ask the doctor in the morning.' For a moment Diego is ready to argue, but the nurse is already giving him a pain killer to take off the edge, because apparently his answer of one in regards to how he'd label his pain level hadn't been too convincing.
As the nurse leaves, Diego just shakes his head again. "This is bullshit."
"I would look great in a nurse uniform you know," he sighs a little, though he quiets down when the nurse comes in to check Diego's vitals. The pain killer she administers might have something to do with Klaus's own skeptical look, but she's come and gone just as quickly as the rest. Only when he's sure she's gone does he let out a dramatic sigh once again. "I have the legs for it."
For emphasis he raises one leg to rest on the bed and gives his foot a little spin near Diego's shoulder. He's careful not to jostle the bed too much.
"It is bullshit though, you're right. Hospitals are just such a drag but you know what keeps you from visiting one? Taking care of yourself. Self control. Maybe the active use of whatever few remaining braincells you have. I mean, not that I can judge you, Lady Ex took all of my brain cells away years and years ago but here we are."
He pats Diego's hand, giving it a soft squeeze whether he likes it or not. He's worried. Klaus can't help his worry, can't help the need to fix everything. He couldn't help Allison, not really, but maybe he can help Diego? He's still pouring from an empty tank but this? This he can do.
"Instead of cursing all of California, you could try sleeping. I hear it's very good for you. This gruff dude with knives told me all about it once. But just imagine, you can sleep a little now and then when you feel like the inside of Satan's asshole tomorrow and want to try and leave, at least you can say you've slept a little. Do yourself a little good, won't you? I could even spoon you, if you want. I'm a much better little spoon, but I'll concede my usual spot for tonight. For your sake."
If it didn't hurt to breathe, Diego would have probably shoved Klaus off the bed at the way he rests his leg next to him but instead he just settles for an eyeroll.
Especially as Klaus does his little lecture, and Diego just presses a button on the rail of the bed so that the bed can recline a little. The motion hurts, of course, especially considering the broken ribs, but he just can't stay laying down.
"The guy that hardly sleeps is talking to me about sleeping? Wow. Tell ya what, 'til you actually do it, you don't get to give me shit about that." He quirks his lips into a sort of smile, but it fades as quickly as it comes as he adjusts himself a little better. "Just find something on TV, we can just...pretend to watch something, I guess."
Klaus lets out a noise of surprise when the bed moves and he gives Diego a look, even though he's sure it wasn't completely intentional. He can see the pain on his brother's bruised face and that alone is enough to sober him a little more.
"Yes, yes, the guy that doesn't sleep is telling you that you look like shit. That's saying something, coming from the man who has made looking like shit into a fashion trend."
He slides away from the bed though, giving Diego more room, and he tugs up another blanket around his brother. He swipes the TV control and flips through a few channels, finally landing on some cheesy, old western.
"I'm down to pretend, but you'd better pretend with your eyes closed, mister. Imagine John Wayne sexily strutting across the back of your eyelids." He settles back into the chair beside the bed and lets out a breath. "That's the torture you deserve for scaring me, thank you very much."
Despite their relationship, and the bond they’ve been developing the last few weeks, it’s still weird for Diego to be fussed over. He’s not used to it - he doubts any of them are - but he’s definitely not used to family visits in the hospital. He’s used to someone else sitting here with him, lecturing him, trying to make him stay put. And, as much as Diego has been trying to ignore the gaping hole in his heart, it all feels like it smacks him in the face as he’s hit with yet another aspect of his life that Patch won’t be in anymore.
He tries to push the thought away, though, tries to ignore the way it gnaws away at him and almost threatens his ability to breathe properly. But thankfully Klaus talks again, and Diego forces himself back to reality. The memories of Eudora is part of the reason why Klaus’s words hit him differently than they normally would and, while he’s almost ready to roll his eyes again, for a moment he finds himself unable to muster up the energy to do so.
“Sorry,” he finally says quietly, his voice as tired and worn as he suddenly feels. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”
Klaus waves Diego off a little, though it's more to help ease his brother's discomfort than anything else. At the end of the day, he will worry about all of his siblings. He loves them all to varying degrees, but they're family. He can't help it.
"You can make it up to me by getting some rest and feeling better. And when you're back in tip-top shape I'll take some of my own medicine for once and stop giving you a hard time." He smiles a little and scoots his chair closer, if only so he can fold his arms on the bed next to Diego's shoulder and rest his head on them, not quite jostling or touching his brother, but close.
"We'll get you checked out of here tomorrow and have you home. You look like shit but it's shit we've all seen before, right?" He smiles at his brother. "I'm just glad I can help you for a change. About time, right?" He snorts. "So don't sweat it. You're getting all mushy and soft and it's incredibly uncomfortable." A joke, of course, but his eyes hold all the warmth.
His lips curve slightly into a small smile that's hardly there, but it's at least genuine. "Yeah, well. It's your fault for coming here, no one told you to show up."
It's a joke of his own, and the lack of bite in his words show it. He can't get rid of how tired he sounds - or feels - but at least he's no longer just trying to shrug this whole thing off.
For now, anyway. But Klaus mentions getting him checked out tomorrow, and that helps a lot. He hates being here with a burning passion, but if he will help him get out of here in the morning, then he can tolerate it for a few hours. He's not sure if Klaus is just saying that to appease him, or if it's the truth, but Diego plans to hold him to it, anyway. And, even if it could be a lie, it's enough to ease some of the dread he feels by being in this damn place, and he visibly relaxes.
"Thanks for being here," he finally adds after a moment, even if his gaze is on the television. Even if he's actually starting to doze off, because the painkiller is making it easy to dull out the pain enough to at least help him breathe.
"Oh, yes, you're right. I'll leave you completely alone and unidentified next time. That way I can pretend I don't know you when you get arrested for punching a nurse."
Klaus sighs a little, watching his brother's expression. He's always felt a kinship with Diego even when they hadn't quite gotten along as kids. No matter how often they squabbled or picked at one another, Klaus knew that at the end of the day, Diego was a solid presence he could rely on if he needed it. He might get an earful about it, but reliable all the same. If Klaus can be even a modicum of that for his brother now, he wants to.
He turns his head toward the TV himself, watching as horses race by and fake gunfire sounds. He smiles a little when Diego speaks, but doesn't look back at his brother, something understood between them here. "Yeah. You, too."
Maybe not for being in the hospital, but if Klaus could thank him for showing up, for dragging them all to the surface? He would. Instead, he scoots his chair closer, keeps his head on his arms, but the fingers of his hand on top reach for Diego's. Not quite holding his hand, but resting just on top. "Try and sleep."
If this had been another time, with Diego using his usual defenses, he would have probably said something stupid - like how being being alone and unidentified isn't exactly new to him. That's how life had been for him - for most of them, really.
But, while he may be somewhat doped up on pain medication, he still holds back that response because he knows damn well that it's no longer applicable. Not after stopping the world from ending; not after working together to put Vanya back together. Not with all his time in Los Angeles, trying to piece both Klaus and Allison together. The last few months haven't been easy, but they're actually becoming an actual family, and while maybe they had spent over twelve years apart, things are different now.
That's why, when Klaus settles closer, when his fingers rest on top of his, Diego doesn't pull away, or push him away. He takes it for what it is, a reassuring gesture from his brother, refusing to leave him alone, and it makes it easy to let himself doze off. He's not alone anymore, after all.
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no subject
He scrubs his palms over his face, fingers threading into his hair, gripping it. After the first half hour he turns, leaning his elbows on the man's beside, a hand resting over one of Diego's. Sure, they're not the cuddly type, they're not the gooey, warm, loving siblings that maybe he and Allison are, but holding his hand grounds him.
The voice, the movement, however, draws his eyes up. He stares at him, wide eyed and pushes to his feet, pressing his free hand softly to Diego's chest to keep him still. "Hey, there, buddy..." He says softly, on a nervous little laugh. "Could ask you the same thing. We really gotta stop meeting like this."
He looks like shit. He wants to ask him what happened, why he hadn't called, why he'd been so stupid, but he's just so relieved to see him back to normal that he bites back his inquiries. "You just stay still, yeah? Turns out someone forgot to take my phone number out of your wallet. So when they scraped you up off the sidewalk, they called me. So here I am, in all my midnight glory. How are you?"
A loaded question, he knows, but he doesn't have the wits to ask anything else. He knows how hot headed his brother can be, knows the hero-streak that he's held ever since they were kids. He always had a strong sense of justice, a stubborn devotion to right and wrong that many of them didn't have. They followed their father, but Diego always felt the pull of that moral compass and it showed in the way he handled all of them, in the way they all navigated around one another as children.
It's going to get him killed one day, Klaus thinks, as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, one leg propped up to get closer. "Thank god that pretty face is still intact, though how, I couldn't really tell you." A weak joke, but an attempt all the same.
no subject
He needs to get out of here, he thinks to himself, even if his body doesn’t cooperate just yet. His whole body feels foreign, like his limbs are too heavy to move. He doesn’t remember, but they had needed to sedate him once the doctors started working on him. Between the pain and the disorientation, Diego had fought back as if he was being attacked, and sedating him had been the only way they could patch him up.
“‘m fine,” he answers, his voice still groggy but his eyes are starting to look less aimless as he’s finally gaining lucidity. His whole body feels like an enormous bruise, and the small smile that faintly tugs at his lips at the joke is hard to maintain, but it’s fine. He’s fine. He has had worse, after all.
“You didn’t have to come. I’m gonna get out of here soon.” He says it with full certainty, as if he has gotten that confirmed by the doctor already, even if he doubts they’ll agree. But his legs feel fine, and he’s awake, so that’s enough for him. Staying here is pointless, he can do the laying around on his own, away from a hospital bed.
“I’m fine, Klaus.”
no subject
Klaus sighs, looking up at the monitors attached to his brother once then back down. "And I'll have you know you're staying here as long as they tell you to. Hospitals aren't exactly my kind of fun, either. Dozens of places to shoot up and have fun, but I've never looked very good in fluorescent white with my ass hanging out."
He's been to plenty of rehab centers and hospitals in his time. It's eerie being here, seeing as the last time he was in a place like this, it was because he nearly died himself. "And I'm not leaving so don't you even start or I'll tell them to tranq you all over again. Apparently you were a real champ when you came to. You didn't stab any of the hospital staff though, so you're doing swell."
The words spew out of him rapid-fire, but that's just the nerves talking. Keep talking, keep Diego focused, is what he tells himself. Especially as he begins to see some of the clarity working its way back into the man's eyes. "What happened?" In this case, he definitely doesn't want to see the other guys.
no subject
Until Klaus insists that he’s staying here for as long as it’s needed, and it makes him frown because no, he refuses to accept that. The idea of being on a hospital bed, with an IV in his arm shakes something within him that makes him almost nauseous.
Ah, so there’s a sensible Hargreeves after all, he can hear Patch saying as if she’s here in the room, how she always would be whenever he’d do something stupid and he’d find himself on a hospital bed. How she had been when he almost died, and had been unconscious for days. He can almost see her, too, on the chair that Klaus had been sitting on busy moments ago. The way her eyes betrayed the anger on her face, how the fear of losing him was stronger than her frustrations at how stupid Diego could be while he worked. And, although she’s not real and he’s just imagining her, it still makes his stomach twist with guilt.
He doesn’t say anything, though. For a moment it just looks as if he’s lost in thought, as if he’s still trying to clear the haze he’s in, even if for a moment the pain reflecting in his eyes is beyond whatever he could be feeling physically.
But then Klaus’s voice registers, and Diego closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to refocus. “I don’t know. I was working, then things went to shit. I don’t...remember much beyond that.” The way his brow furrows in frustration as he opens his eyes makes it obvious he’s not just trying to avoid the question, it’s the truth. He had blacked out at some point, and it all feels like a very distant, painful blur that he can’t quite bring into focus. He’s sore everywhere, and breathing feels like a strain considering the way the pain flares with every inhale, but he’s no stranger to broken ribs. Between his ‘job’ and the fights at the gym, he knows damn well what he’s looking at in terms of recovery. He’s not happy about it, but he at least knows what to expect.
“I need to get out of here,” he says with a sigh, starting to reach over for the IV line even if he can already guess the effort won’t go far. “I can’t be here.”
no subject
"You should be on vacation here, thank you very much," he tries weakly when Diego explains he'd been working. Working, of all things, in California. As if caring for his siblings hadn't been enough.
He reaches for Diego's hand the moment it moves, grips it gingerly and tugs it away from the taped IV line. "At least for tonight, yeah?" he sighs, looking down at his brother. "Then we'll escape and get out of here, hm? But you need to stay. You look like shit, you don't even remember what happened to you, and turns out these doctor types really know what they're doing. And while I appreciate that you were putting your few remaining brain cells to good use for great justice or some shit, but I'd like to make sure you still have those brain cells by the time you go home."
A sigh. "So whether you like it or not, you're gonna stay in that bed and let them treat you. And it sucks, trust me, been there done that, but its your turn to listen to me. I'm older than you, you know. You can't even pull the big brother card on me now, mister." He reaches to give his shoulder a soft jab for emphasis.
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And he had, the last few weeks have been good. Not easy, but he hadn't expected them to be. But - as fucked up as it was - as they did better, Diego could feel that old urge creeping back in. The ones that needed to be taken care of were people that were out there, unprotected, in danger, getting robbed or beaten up, and...well. He had gotten too cocky. Too reckless. He should have probably waited to get back to New York, he knows that now, but it's as if the reckless streak that has only grown with the grief and pain of losing Patch is finally catching on. As if, now that he doesn't have anything else to really focus on, it had gotten too big for him to ignore anymore.
Part of him wants to get back out there right now. Being here, laid up, feels like a loss. It feels like a weakness - something that Reginald had drilled into them, but Diego has taken that lesson to heart even throughout the last thirteen years.
"God, you make it sound like I got maimed or something," he says in almost a grumbled sigh, but lets his arm settle back down. He wants to tell Klaus how this is nothing, how he has been hurt worse and he has the scars to prove it, but...he can't ignore the concern on his brother's face. Which he hates, because he can't ignore the twist of guilt that his gut makes, and he has to look away for a moment as he remembers someone else giving him a similar look once upon a time.
"Okay, fine. Just tonight." He stays still for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is a little quieter. "...thanks. For coming."
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Klaus lets out a sigh, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He hates seeing his brother like this. "Of course I'd come. You'd burn down the country to help me, so why wouldn't I do the same?"
He shrugs and rolls his eyes, glancing back toward the doors then to him. Diego was always there for him, even if they didn't always get along. Where Luther had been dad's shadow instead of a true leader, Diego had really been the family shield. He pets his brother's hand softly. "But you owe me, now, you see. Dragging me out of bed, didn't even get a pretty face on, and here we are for the whole world to see. Dear god the paps will be all over us. You're lucky they didn't get ahold of you already. They love a good family drama round here."
Reaching with his free hand, he tugs the hospital blanket up around his brother, keeping close to his side all the same. "Especially those who are finding creative ways to deal with their grief. Our family does do a lot of out-of-the-box thinking."
Had this been a simple street accident, or had Diego been distracted? Did he care that he was confined to a hospital bed right now, beaten and sore and bloody? He won't rush into all of that, because Klaus knows a thing or two about self-destructive behavior. He's just glad Diego's here and he's safe.
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He doesn't say any of that, though, or even gives it much thought. He just listens to Klaus as he talks, making a face when he talks about the paparazzi. Shit, he hadn't even thought of that.
"See, then that's definitely a reason to get the hell out of here before someone tries to get a picture of us. We wouldn't want to bring our dear sister any additional drama, would we." Especially considering the few shots that have leaked already, of them during their walks. Allison hadn't been to thrilled since some of them showed the injury that she still hasn't necessarily informed the public about, but at least her PR team had been able to control the situation.
Although, if he's honest, he's not necessarily thinking just of Allison right now. He just doesn't want to be here.
The comment about dealing with his grief makes him shake his head slightly. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to get at, but it was just bad luck. It happens, you know. Even to the best of us."
There's a touch of defensiveness in his tone, but it doesn't dawn on him until a moment later. He just pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment, though, as if somehow that will ease the way his head feels. "This isn't the first time this happened so don't turn it into something it isn't."
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Klaus just considers the nosy media part of his every day life, but he does make a mental note to see what Allison's people can do to clean up anything left over from this little visit.
And while Klaus isn't too surprised by the defensiveness in his brother's tone, it does make him backpedal just slightly. He doesn't have that kind of forward, frank relationship with his brother. Not when it comes to these more emotional things, certainly. For while Klaus might be a little more willing to open up under pressure, he knows too well Diego hasn't had the same opportunity in many ways.
So Klaus lets go of Diego's hand in favor of plopping his chin into his own palm, propping his elbow up on one knee. "Ooh, badge of honor, not your first time, huh?" He smirks and gives a playful wink, even though that's not at all what Diego means, but Klaus knows too well he needs to diffuse the tension, to bring some levity back into the room. They can get into the nitty gritty shit later, when Diego's nice and drugged up and in a little less pain.
Thirty years and they still have so much to learn about one another.
"But that's not gonna stop me from being a fussy mother hen. Believe it or not, your wild, partying little brother makes a very good nursemaid. I look especially good in a little nurse's uniform. Should I go find one?"
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That's what he gets though, isn't it? For screwing it all up, for getting too comfortable. Learning lessons, as Reginald would call them.
The playful wink makes Diego just sigh under his breath, especially when he tells him he'll be fussing over him. Not that he's that surprised, really; Diego wouldn't say that he's close to any of his siblings, but if he had to choose someone? Klaus would definitely be the sibling he has always been closest to. They gravitated towards each other in ways that he never did with anyone else. They had protected each other in whatever ways they could figure out as children, the two with the quiet and vulnerable personalities trying to shield each other from their father's wrath. Life has molded them each differently, has forged them into different people than who they once had been - who they once could have been - but despite all those changes and all the years between them, Klaus is still who Diego falls back on.
That's why, right now, he doesn't necessarily mind having him here even if he hates the situation as a whole.
"You do that and I'm definitely hauling ass out of here, so don't." He's about to say something else when a nurse walks in, asking about his pain level and checking his vitals. Diego sounds almost monotone as he responds, as if he's reading from a script that he knows too well, because even if he's in a different city he's familiar with all the questions that these visit bring up since this is most definitely not his first rodeo, but he at least doesn't seem or sound too combative.
Except when his question about when he'll be out of here is answered with a 'why don't you get some rest, hun, we need to keep you under observation but you can ask the doctor in the morning.' For a moment Diego is ready to argue, but the nurse is already giving him a pain killer to take off the edge, because apparently his answer of one in regards to how he'd label his pain level hadn't been too convincing.
As the nurse leaves, Diego just shakes his head again. "This is bullshit."
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For emphasis he raises one leg to rest on the bed and gives his foot a little spin near Diego's shoulder. He's careful not to jostle the bed too much.
"It is bullshit though, you're right. Hospitals are just such a drag but you know what keeps you from visiting one? Taking care of yourself. Self control. Maybe the active use of whatever few remaining braincells you have. I mean, not that I can judge you, Lady Ex took all of my brain cells away years and years ago but here we are."
He pats Diego's hand, giving it a soft squeeze whether he likes it or not. He's worried. Klaus can't help his worry, can't help the need to fix everything. He couldn't help Allison, not really, but maybe he can help Diego? He's still pouring from an empty tank but this? This he can do.
"Instead of cursing all of California, you could try sleeping. I hear it's very good for you. This gruff dude with knives told me all about it once. But just imagine, you can sleep a little now and then when you feel like the inside of Satan's asshole tomorrow and want to try and leave, at least you can say you've slept a little. Do yourself a little good, won't you? I could even spoon you, if you want. I'm a much better little spoon, but I'll concede my usual spot for tonight. For your sake."
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Especially as Klaus does his little lecture, and Diego just presses a button on the rail of the bed so that the bed can recline a little. The motion hurts, of course, especially considering the broken ribs, but he just can't stay laying down.
"The guy that hardly sleeps is talking to me about sleeping? Wow. Tell ya what, 'til you actually do it, you don't get to give me shit about that." He quirks his lips into a sort of smile, but it fades as quickly as it comes as he adjusts himself a little better. "Just find something on TV, we can just...pretend to watch something, I guess."
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"Yes, yes, the guy that doesn't sleep is telling you that you look like shit. That's saying something, coming from the man who has made looking like shit into a fashion trend."
He slides away from the bed though, giving Diego more room, and he tugs up another blanket around his brother. He swipes the TV control and flips through a few channels, finally landing on some cheesy, old western.
"I'm down to pretend, but you'd better pretend with your eyes closed, mister. Imagine John Wayne sexily strutting across the back of your eyelids." He settles back into the chair beside the bed and lets out a breath. "That's the torture you deserve for scaring me, thank you very much."
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He tries to push the thought away, though, tries to ignore the way it gnaws away at him and almost threatens his ability to breathe properly. But thankfully Klaus talks again, and Diego forces himself back to reality. The memories of Eudora is part of the reason why Klaus’s words hit him differently than they normally would and, while he’s almost ready to roll his eyes again, for a moment he finds himself unable to muster up the energy to do so.
“Sorry,” he finally says quietly, his voice as tired and worn as he suddenly feels. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”
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Klaus waves Diego off a little, though it's more to help ease his brother's discomfort than anything else. At the end of the day, he will worry about all of his siblings. He loves them all to varying degrees, but they're family. He can't help it.
"You can make it up to me by getting some rest and feeling better. And when you're back in tip-top shape I'll take some of my own medicine for once and stop giving you a hard time." He smiles a little and scoots his chair closer, if only so he can fold his arms on the bed next to Diego's shoulder and rest his head on them, not quite jostling or touching his brother, but close.
"We'll get you checked out of here tomorrow and have you home. You look like shit but it's shit we've all seen before, right?" He smiles at his brother. "I'm just glad I can help you for a change. About time, right?" He snorts. "So don't sweat it. You're getting all mushy and soft and it's incredibly uncomfortable." A joke, of course, but his eyes hold all the warmth.
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It's a joke of his own, and the lack of bite in his words show it. He can't get rid of how tired he sounds - or feels - but at least he's no longer just trying to shrug this whole thing off.
For now, anyway. But Klaus mentions getting him checked out tomorrow, and that helps a lot. He hates being here with a burning passion, but if he will help him get out of here in the morning, then he can tolerate it for a few hours. He's not sure if Klaus is just saying that to appease him, or if it's the truth, but Diego plans to hold him to it, anyway. And, even if it could be a lie, it's enough to ease some of the dread he feels by being in this damn place, and he visibly relaxes.
"Thanks for being here," he finally adds after a moment, even if his gaze is on the television. Even if he's actually starting to doze off, because the painkiller is making it easy to dull out the pain enough to at least help him breathe.
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Klaus sighs a little, watching his brother's expression. He's always felt a kinship with Diego even when they hadn't quite gotten along as kids. No matter how often they squabbled or picked at one another, Klaus knew that at the end of the day, Diego was a solid presence he could rely on if he needed it. He might get an earful about it, but reliable all the same. If Klaus can be even a modicum of that for his brother now, he wants to.
He turns his head toward the TV himself, watching as horses race by and fake gunfire sounds. He smiles a little when Diego speaks, but doesn't look back at his brother, something understood between them here. "Yeah. You, too."
Maybe not for being in the hospital, but if Klaus could thank him for showing up, for dragging them all to the surface? He would. Instead, he scoots his chair closer, keeps his head on his arms, but the fingers of his hand on top reach for Diego's. Not quite holding his hand, but resting just on top. "Try and sleep."
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But, while he may be somewhat doped up on pain medication, he still holds back that response because he knows damn well that it's no longer applicable. Not after stopping the world from ending; not after working together to put Vanya back together. Not with all his time in Los Angeles, trying to piece both Klaus and Allison together. The last few months haven't been easy, but they're actually becoming an actual family, and while maybe they had spent over twelve years apart, things are different now.
That's why, when Klaus settles closer, when his fingers rest on top of his, Diego doesn't pull away, or push him away. He takes it for what it is, a reassuring gesture from his brother, refusing to leave him alone, and it makes it easy to let himself doze off. He's not alone anymore, after all.