[open] i'm high, broke, searching for symbols

[substances]

Who: Klaus Hargreeves; OTA
What: just a catch-all for some threads that don't fit in the intro log and an open prompt (might add more later)
When: month of July
Where: various
Warnings: definitely drug use or thoughts of drug use; anything else tba in the subject lines



👻 aspiring horticulturist

It had taken Klaus approximately four days to completely run out of the weed he'd had in his pocket when he came from Hadriel. But since he's not really the type to run rescue missions and doesn't have the technical know-how to fix computers, he's mostly been wandering around the city trying to figure out what he actually can do. Trying to keep his mind occupied now that he doesn't have pot to turn to, trying to keep his mind off the painkillers in his bag back in his room.

When he makes his way to the upper levels, he lifts the bottom of his shirt to hold it over his mouth and nose, because the air up here is awful, and he pokes around a little bit, determined to check out what's going on and get the hell out of here. At least, until he finds the horticultural area. There's a computer there, the screen cracked and flickering, but it seems to be at least a little bit functional. Klaus doesn't know computers, but he's been using a phone since he arrived in Hadriel and that's like a month and a half of experience, so he heads over to the terminal, tapping at buttons under the screen until he figures out which one scrolls through the files of what kind of plants are stored here.

When he hears a sound behind him, he turns halfway to the side, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh hey, do you know anything about computers?"

Comments

[substances]

When Julie tells him to look at her and tugs on his face to force the point, her hands on his cheeks and her eyes on his, he looks at her. Swallows hard when she says that's okay too, but she knows he can do it, that he's strong and she's seen him be strong over and over.

Klaus' throat chokes up a little, and his eyes go wet, and he laughs, shakes his head a little bit, eyes sinking shut as she kisses the corner of his mouth, turns his head to chase the contact, still holding her eyes with his.

This feels good, and that's something he can focus on. It feels good to have someone believe in him and call him strong when everyone from Diego to Ben to his dad have told him for so long that he's weak, that he's running away, that he's a wimp. He knows they're right, but he thinks maybe Julie's right too, or she will be if he does what she's asking him.

It feels good to have warm hands on his face and lips on the corner of his mouth, and so he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, breath coming shaky as she says she's not going to lose him and they're in this together.

"Okay. Okay okay okay..." he murmurs, then leans in and kisses her mouth, a quick soft peck, "I'll go...I'll go get them and bring them back. Okay?"

[redwinekindofgirl]

Julie may have only known Klaus a relatively short time, but there are parts of him that she knows as well as she knows herself. The parts that cry out for the pain to stop, for things to just end, for things to be a little better, just a little better, for a little while. Those things are as familiar to her as the marks on her wrists.

"Okay," she says, and she smiles. He can do this. She chases the peck to her mouth with another kiss before she lets him go.

"I'll be here. Or do you want me to come with you?"

Not something to be forced. She believes he can do this by himself, and she'll give as much support as he wants.

[substances]

"Come with me?"

It comes out of his mouth before he even really thinks about it, and he remembers when he'd taken the rope down to talk to Luther, how he'd thought that he is really the type of person who needs his options taken away in order to get clean. It's strange to think that he's trying to do it a different way this time, that something about him has changed enough to make this possible, but he still knows he needs Julie to come with him. That he can't do it alone.

He never could.

Standing up, he exhales heavily, and holds his hand out to Julie before heading out of her apartment and walking quietly up the hallway to the apartment he shares with Diego and Ben.

"Just wait out here, okay?" he whispers, "I don't want to wake my brothers up."

[benhargreeves]

[ Klaus is right, that nothing had happened. But if something had, it would have been entirely Ben's fault for his negligence. He has to re-learn not only to look after his body's needs, but also, to be constantly afraid of himself and what will happen if he slips up. He's a hazardous chemical in need of containment. Proper procedures need to be followed or people get hurt. That is simply how it works, and it will never change, as long as he is alive.

As hard as Ben can be on Klaus, he is twice as hard on himself. Ben pictures, with sudden icy clarity, the exact disappointed look their father would give him for being so weak. Even after everything that's happened, and so many years, Ben still thinks in his case, his father's harshness - at least some of it - was justified. You can't afford to be patient with the mishandling of radioactive materials... ]

I should've known better.

[ His thoughts remain snarled and awful, but Klaus's hand rubbing at the back of his neck is nice, and he knows that soon enough the protein bar will settle in his stomach and the ache will subside. He manages a smile for Klaus, when he says it's his turn to look out for Ben. ]

So I get to give you shit, now?

[ But it isn't just a joke; there's a question in it, too. For so many years, the only thing Ben was capable of, the one singular thing, was doing his best to look after Klaus. It was the only impact he had on the world, the only human connection. The only thing that kept him anchored all those years so he didn't end up raving and insane like all the other ghosts. So it's not like Klaus owes him for it. And he wants to be sure that this won't be too much for Klaus - add too much to a plate that is already so full.

Ben holds Klaus's gaze, swallowing. In stops and starts, he admits: ]

I forgot how intense everything is. Being alive. It's not like I didn't have feelings - have emotions - when I was dead, but it was all... muted. I would still be, you know, worried or sad, but I couldn't feel it.

[ And he brings a hand, pressing it flat and splayed against his chest, to show the physicality of it, the way emotions expressed themselves in the body. Ben wonders, now, for the first time, if that's a little what it's like for Klaus when he is on drugs. A similar numbness - not quite the same, but related. And probably a good thing, too. If he'd been acutely aware of the loneliness, the grief, the isolation, or the terror when Klaus was in danger, the hurt when bad things happened to him and Ben couldn't stop them... he isn't sure he could have borne it.

Then, because Klaus said he has his back, because he is looking at him with those eyes full of concern and attention and gentle worry, Ben admits, voice a rasp: ]

I'm so tired.

[redwinekindofgirl]

She only nods when he asks, and squeezes his hand when he takes it. There isn't a moment while they walk that she lets go of his hand, occasionally rubbing her thumb against the soft part of the back of his hand, or leaning her shoulder into his arm, just to ensure that he knows he isn't alone.

If she has anything to do with it, he's never going to have to feel like he's alone in facing this shit.

"Yeah, sure," Julie tells him once they reach the door, her voice as hushed as it can be. She smiles and gives his hand another squeeze, then lets go. "Just be really quiet. I don't wanna have to explain all this to them."

[substances]

[Klaus, on the other hand, has never thought that Ben is a dangerous thing in need of containment, has never thought that Reggie had any kind of right to treat Ben the way he had. Ben has dangerous powers, sure, but he's also a person. A particularly sensitive person, one who needs support and encouragement to use his powers safely, not...containment, rules, and harshness.

Unfortunately, he doesn't really have the words or the clarity of thought that it would take to communicate that to Ben. All he has is instinct and actions, the only things that Klaus has really had for a long time. So instead of agreeing that Ben should've known better, Klaus keeps rubbing his back and his neck and he shakes his head.]

Naw. How long has it been? You get a pass for forgetting about it, and now I'm on board. So yeah, you get to give me shit.

[And then Ben is looking at him, explaining that everything about being alive is so intense, explaining the difference between the feelings you have when you're dead versus the feelings you have when you have a body, and Klaus sees the parallel too. It reminds him of the drugs, how being on them he was just happy, everything was less complicated and terrifying and painful.

Again, he doesn't have the words for it, he just slides his arm around Ben's shoulders and pulls him in close, in a sideways hug, presses his mouth against Ben's hair. When Ben says that he's tired, Klaus feels a sudden and intense surge of relief because he can do something about that.]

Why don't you sleep for a bit, then? I'm tired too, we can just lie here and sleep, like old times. Right? Both of us always slept better with someone else around.

[Klaus' hand moves to the center of Ben's back and he rubs a lazy circle there, encouraging, his eyes still on Ben's face.]

Please?

[benhargreeves]

Okay.

[ There is an implicit promise in that small word - that, in the future, when things are bad, he will try to let it be Klaus's turn again. They had leaned on one another equally when they were young, as Ben remembers it. Even in their mid-teens, when Klaus went from being high some of the time to high most of the time, he'd still always been there for Ben if he needed him. It was only after he'd died that things had shifted. He'd never been in danger, never needed anything. And so Klaus had always been the one in distress, Ben had always been the one trying to pull him back to his feet.

He's not sure it's going to be possible, to go back to how it was, as if all those lopsided years hadn't happened. But he's willing to try. At least for tonight.

So when Klaus encourages him to just sleep here, the two of them sharing the bed like they had when they were small, Ben gives a small nod. Even if he hadn't said that many words in total, he feel like he has communicated a lot in the last few minutes, and it's drained him even further. He doesn't say anything else as he kicks off his boots and sinks onto his side, stretching out on the bed on one side.

Klaus had been wise to suggest it. The idea of getting up, choosing one of the empty beds to be his, putting sheets on it, getting the room all set up, and then laying down by himself to sleep for the first time in fourteen years - that all seems so impossibly complicated. But this bed is still warm, already messy, like he's just going back to sleep. Ben exhales long and slow, and there's audible relief in it. ]

These beds are comfier than they look.

[substances]

Good.

[Things had always felt equal to Klaus - or at least not completely tilted in one direction - even after Ben had died. After all, he'd been high enough that he'd left Ben alone for long stretches of time, hadn't been able to interact or help him or anything. And when he'd been sober enough to interact, he'd held books so Ben could read, he'd gone places with him so he didn't have to go alone, and Ben had helped him in return, watched his back on the streets and tried to talk him into making good choices. Obviously, Ben had been putting in more effort on Klaus' behalf than Klaus had been capable of returning, but it hadn't seemed so imbalanced to him.

So now it's his turn to put in more effort, to be the one capable of returning all the effort Ben has put into him for the past decade while Ben is the one struggling. He remembers the drugs in his bag, feels a surge of guilt, because he wouldn't be able to do any of that if he's back on drugs, and he bites the inside of his lower lip.

Focuses on Ben, looking at his face and watching as Ben nods, as the muscles in his face shift with his microexpressions, as the timbre and strength and speed of his breathing alter slightly, as he looks over at Klaus and then kicks off his boots. As Ben does that, Klaus slips off his Converse and kicks them under the bed, shifts to make room for Ben to lie down, and then clambers in behind him, flopping onto his side and resting his head on his pillow beside Ben's. That exhalation of relief and comfort is music to Klaus' ears, and he makes a soft half-laughing breath, lifts his arm and drapes it loosely over Ben's side, so he can't forget Klaus is there even if they're not pressed together body to body.]

Right? I thought they were going to be awful but then they were really nice.

[His voice is soft and a little mumbly, and his hand idly moves against Ben's waist, just reassuring himself that his brother is warm and solid and present.]

This is nice.

[substances]

"It's the seeds. I think they have them like...stored away so they don't...go bad? Rot? Get radiation poisoning or whatever? I dunno. But I think you need the computer to get the seeds out."

Klaus leans his hip against the computer bank and gestures at it vaguely.

"If I could get the seeds out maybe you could show me how to grow them."

[substances]

"No shit. I don't either." he says, his voice a little shaky, and he rubs his hand over his face, squeezes her hand before he lets go, and slips into the room. Padding across the floor barefoot, he crouches beside his bed where Ben is sleeping fitfully, and pulls his bag out from under it.

It only takes a few moments to find the bottle of Oxycodone, and for a long few moments he sits there and stares at it, his mouth dry, his body trembling with desire, every nerve on fire and emotions churned up in his belly so hard he feels nauseous. Taking a breath, he stands and moves away from the beds, pressed up against the wall beside the door where neither Julie nor his brothers will here, and twists the cap off the bottle. Hand shaking, he silently shakes three pills out onto his palm and stares at them. He can feel sweat forming on his brow, he can feel his body trembling, he can feel every nerve screaming, the knot of desire in his gut so tight he can barely handle it.

But he doesn't take them, he heads back over to his bag, crouches down, and carefully unrolls a pair of his clean socks, tucks the pills into the folds of the cuffs, and rolls them back up, shoves them to the bottom of the bag. With a guilty huff of breath, he stands up and slips back out the door again.

The bottle is still closed in his fist, and he bites his lip as he looks at Julie, holds his hand up so she can see.

[benhargreeves]

[ It is, as Klaus says, nice. Really really nice, in fact. Laying down feels amazing, and the weight of Klaus's arm is a small but constant reminder that he's tangible. Ben makes a small, wordless noise of agreement and spends the next ten or so minutes relaxing, heartbeat slowing, staring into the dim quiet of the still room.

There comes a point when he could, perhaps, have simply drifted off to sleep. After all the chaotic, emotional events of the day, he is worn out. But despite his exhaustion, as his mind is winding down, it snags on an unpleasant thought. An unpleasant thought that he can't push away, that digs itself deeper and deeper, like a splinter, or a fish hook.

Ben doesn't move. He stays where he is, but bit by bit, tension creeps back into his body. Now, not only is he not giving in to sleep, but he is fighting it. The fear is sharp and thin, pinning him in place. He doesn't even know if Klaus is even still awake when he whispers, so quietly: ]

What if I don't wake up?

[ There's no logic to wondering it, of course. No reason why going to sleep would have some special impact. But then there is no logic to why he is alive again in the first place. It had just happened; an interval of unconsciousness that felt like only a second to Ben but that could have been any length of time, and then he was here, alive, breathing. None of it makes sense. He doesn't know how it happened, so he doesn't know how to keep it from stopping. And irrational as it is, all Ben can think now is that, maybe if he goes to sleep, he won't ever ever wake up again. Not alive, not as a ghost. Just - nothing. ]

[substances]

[Klaus had been asleep for hours before this, and now he's lying still thinking about a lot of things - trying to figure out what he's going to do about the drugs in his bag, how to make sure Ben keeps eating and drinking and sleeping, how to make sure he can be the most reliable person he can be when 'reliable' is not something that's really in his bag of tricks. But if anyone could make him try to be, it would be Ben.

He's relaxed, dozing but not asleep as he feels Ben slowly go boneless, hears his breath evening out into sleep breathing. Klaus is about to relax and let himself fall asleep when he feels the tension start draining back into Ben's body, feels his muscles go tight, his shoulders square, his breath shallow and fast and Klaus is about to ask what's wrong when Ben talks.

It's like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over Klaus' head, and he exhales shakily, brows furrowing.

'What if I don't wake up?'

Klaus actually feels his throat choke up, he pushes up on an elbow and scoots in closer to Ben, pressing his body in against Ben's back, burying his face into the back of his neck. He's trembling, a little, but then he makes a noise in his throat, shakes his head.]

You're going to wake up, Ben. Seriously. You are. I'm gonna have a nightmare in about an hour and wake you up and you're gonna be so mad at me because I disturbed your first night of sleep in fourteen years, and then you're going to go back to sleep. And wake up in the morning. And I will find a way to make some goddamn waffles for you here. Okay?

{All the things time and death stole from us » @ Ben Hargreeves

[deadlycurves]

[Diego can adapt with pretty much anything thrown his way, he's very malleable in certain ways. But in other ways, he's really, really bad at dealing with change. He hadn't realized how quickly he'd grown so used to the sounds of anywhere between two or five of his other siblings milling about in the house at all hours of the day and night until he found himself in this second, new world suddenly dwindled down to only two of his brothers. But at least they were here together, and at least they had all agreed they needed to stay together, so even if they separated and did their own things during the day in this place, at the end of it, eventually, he could know he didn't need to worry about where either Ben or Klaus would end up. But. He was missing the rest of his siblings. He'd had all of them, except Vanya who had disappeared recently, in Nonah and occasionally spread across the other Porter cities, but they were never that far away. He finds it hard to sleep, without those growing-familiar noises of the others quietly going on in the background of his attempt at it. Which is why, well after midnight, Diego finds himself slipping out of bed and tapping uselessly at the computer terminal. Seems pretty busted, near as he can tell, but what does he know about shit like this? He only knows how to use the stupid communicator device because he'd had a similar one in the other world. He sinks down in the chair at the desk on the far side of the room, a deep sense of...something hard to name, twisted and tangled up with a dull melancholy, a razor-sharp anger, and an abrupt drop-off into almost resignation, both sinks down into the marrow of his bones, and echoes into the immediate vicinity around him. He scrubs a hand roughly over his face and sighs. He hates this place just as much as the first, and he wants to go home, to the true, real other side of Five's jump to know what happens to them, and the rest of their world. Ben may be the only reason he might ever consider wanting to stay here at all.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben lets out a tiny, hiccupy laugh when Klaus says he's only going to get an hour of sleep before Klaus wakes him up with a nightmare. It is easy enough to picture, considering how many time Klaus and his nightmares has distracted Ben from whatever he was reading or thinking about at the time. That mental image helps to edge out the one that had been spinning around in his head before: Klaus, waking up in a bed next to his corpse, touching his shoulder only to find it cold and stiff.

There's no evidence for anything that Klaus is saying. It's just wishful thinking - but his voice is full of a conviction so fierce it is almost like anger. Ben wants to believe it is true. He tells himself that it must have happened for a reason. Whatever had given his body back to him had done so for a purpose. That purpose isn't fulfilled yet. So maybe - maybe he won't die.

Ben can't answer at first; he has to just breathe for a little while, controlling his inhales and exhales, keeping it together, if only barely. Klaus's presence helps, and Ben is glad that he moved closer. By small degrees, the worst of the panic fades, leaving Ben feeling stretched thin, transparent with exhaustion. ]

...Okay. Okay. I'm gonna... sleep, and I'm gonna wake up in the morning.

[ Swallowing, Ben shuts his eyes and tries to empty his mind out, to let it be a complete blank so that he can just get some rest. But nothingness proves ineffective at keeping out thoughts that are intruders. So instead, he casts his mind to the last book he had been reading, back at the house, after the funeral. He runs through all the details he remembers from it, trying to sort out the timeline, remember the names of each of the characters - and eventually, the fatigue wins and sweeps him into a deep and dreamless sleep. ]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben had been quiet even before he was a ghost. He's only gotten up for a glass of water, when by chance he sees Diego sitting at the desk in the next room, looking tired and defeated. It isn't even a choice, really. Ben's instinct has always been to help, if he can - especially his brothers and sisters.

Without a word, he comes into the room, crosses over to the corner where Diego is. Ben sets the glass of water down on the edge of the desk and eases himself down onto the floor, sitting with his arms around his knees. He is close to Diego but not too close. Ben just sits, not saying anything. Just keeping Diego company, waiting for him to be ready to talk. If being a ghost had taught Ben anything, it is patience. He can wait a very long time without getting bored. ]

[deadlycurves]

[Diego didn't hear him at all, Ben really is crazy-quiet, always was. But the movement catches in the corner of his eye and at first, it makes his entire body tense, muscles coiled and ready to jump immediately into seamless action if necessary from training deeper than thought. But it's only a second or two, and he consciously forces himself to relax. It's Ben. It's Ben. Just sitting and keeping him company, not saying a word. And it takes him back to something long-buried in the furthest reach of memory along with everything else in the box in his mind labeled Ben, which was never, ever to be opened. Until he didn't have a choice-- like being faced with him suddenly being so very here and so very, very alive again. Diego and Allison had exploded at each other during dinner, sniping remarks matched with equally biting ones, both of them ignoring Reginald's calls for order at the dinner table, until Allison just kept it up until Diego tripped on his own words in his anger and she laughed and nearly immediately slapped a hand over her mouth after it. Nothing outright meant to be mean, more than anything it was just a petty and unintentional reaction altogether, one tiny blip of a half-lived giggle before she caught herself and realized. Some things, Mom always said, they simply do not mock in each other, and Two's stutter is one of those things. Allison would apologize for it later, true and sincere, and without even any prompting from Mom first. But in the moment, it didn't matter. In that second, it was all fierce indignation and embarrassment and Diego darted from the room, ignoring anything his father was yelling after him. A short handful of minutes later, his bedroom door slammed shut and the rest of the dinner table was tense and silent. Later, though... when dinner was through and there were no more lessons for the day, Diego would find Ben slipping impossibly quiet into his room, folding in on himself to sit on the floor next to his bed. Diego huffed and ignored him, not in the mood to talk and he all but refused to actually look at his brother, but Ben didn't move. And he didn't speak, either. Just sat there and waited until Diego finally would turn toward him and maybe he'd talk about it, or maybe he'd talk about something else, whichever way it went... Ben was there. To listen. To offer an ear to bend, and if desired, the distraction to talk about anything else at all. That was hardly the only time Ben had just... been there, when Diego needed the company, but didn't want to talk or do anything at all. He made a sort of habit of it, seemed to sometimes have some kind of sixth sense about when any of his siblings may need his particular, and specifically-tailored, brand of help at any given time. It was just one of an absolute galaxy of things he missed about Ben. He turns his head to look at his brother, even opens his mouth to say something, but the words are lost, or his voice; maybe it was both at once. His gaze drops to the hands hanging loosely between his knees and it takes several, long and drawn out minutes more of silence before he finds his voice again. And when he does, all he manages is a quiet whisper of:] I missed you. [Beat.] So much.

[killedwithlove]

"Oh." He looks out and back. "We could try opening them up without. I'm very good with locks, they want to be open, really."

That could mean many things.

"I don't know a lot about growing things. Cole didn't really farm, he gathered from the woods, though his mother had a garden."

[substances]

[The way Ben laughs makes it obvious how affected he is, how hard this is for him. Klaus can basically feel the anxiety rolling off of him, and so he pushes in a little closer against Ben's back, he bends his arm so he can press his palm against Ben's chest. Presses their bodies together so Ben can't forget that he's here and solid and not alone, because Klaus doesn't know any other way to reassure his brother besides angrily insisting he'll be here in the morning and they'll find a way to make waffles.

For a little while, they're quiet while Ben breathes through his anxiety, calms himself down, and Klaus just rubs gentle circles against his chest in an attempt to help him relax.

And then Ben says that he's going to sleep, he's going to wake up in the morning, and Klaus makes a soft noise of agreement and approval in his throat, nods with his face still against the back of Ben's neck.]

Yes, you are.

[His voice is soft. After Ben finally relaxes and Klaus feels his breathing even out, the tension leave his body, he finally manages to calm himself down enough to fall asleep himself.

It's a surprisingly deep and comfortable sleep, most likely because his brother is with him in bed like he had been so many times during their childhood. Because Klaus just always sleeps better when he's in bed with someone else, and it's half the reason he's had so many on-again-off-again boyfriends, so many friends with benefits, all just to have a safe place to sleep and someone to stay in the bed with him.

In fact, it's not Klaus who wakes Ben up with a nightmare an hour or so after they fall asleep - it's the other way around.]

[benhargreeves]

[ This conversation (and Ben is counting the silence as a part of it) was inevitable. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. When they have first reunited, everything was hectic. There were questions to be asked and arrangements to be made. They'd had to make sure Klaus was safe and suss out everything about the different versions of themselves and that place Diego had been.

But now the dust is settling, and they are both left with the bare truth of it. They are together again. After so many years. There's a lot that both of them need to say to one another. ]

I missed you, too.

[ It is not as acute, and Ben knows that. He'd been able to see Diego, from time to time. He'd watched him grow up over the years and gotten updates. To Diego, Ben had been gone. Ben shifts position slightly, drawing his knees a little closer. All those years of being dead had been full of 'what if's and 'if only's. He'd wanted to say a thousand different things, to Diego, and the rest of them, and not been able to.

Now, he can. If only his throat didn't feel so tight. ]

I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me.

[ Ben isn't referring to any specific incident; there must have been so many of them, stretching out over fourteen years. When their father was vindictive, when Diego first was out on his own, when he was forced to leave the police academy, when Vanya's book came out with all its casual cruelty, when he was out there getting all those scars he wears so proudly. Other moments, too. Quiet ones like this in the middle of the night, when it all weighed so heavily.

He hadn't meant to, hadn't had a choice, but that doesn't change the fact of his absence in Diego's life. ]

For a long time, I wished I could to tell you- what you used to do, back home... going out every night and saving people? Running into danger all by yourself? It was totally reckless, and crazy- and I'm really proud. You stopped awful things from happening to innocent people, and you didn't do it because you had to, and you didn't ask anybody for thanks. I wanted to tell you- that it was good.

cw for gore

[benhargreeves]

[ Klaus's steadying and warm presence is probably the only reason the nightmare didn't come sooner. Ben had somehow forgotten, how bad they could be sometimes. Nowadays, when he thinks of nightmares, he thinks about Klaus. But, of course, he had used to have them, too.

He doesn't realize it's a nightmare while it is happening. In the dream he doesn't remember anything about being dead, about this new world they are in. There's nothingness, and then he is in that place again. In the dream, his eyes are open, but everything is pitch black, and he knows somehow he isn't blind. He's just in a world without a trace of visible light. There are noises, though. The echoes and the damp tell him it's some kind of cave, somewhere underground and wet, slick and fetid. Everything smells organic - decay, rot, and over all of it, blood. Ben knows the smell of blood so well. He could recognize it anywhere.

His stomach tightens with the recognition, and the awful thing is that in he dream, he doesn't know if it is terror, or hunger. All around him are the slithering sounds of movement. He's never sure if the whispering he hears within it is his brain trying to make patterns out of chaos, or if it's really there. Ben can feel them moving around him. The creatures on the other side of the portal. He is never sure how many of them there are, what they really look like. They could be the size of mountains.

All he knows is they're here and he's here, really here, on the other side of the door. He is amongst them, in their home, tiny and fragile as a mouse. If he moves an inch, makes the slightest sound, they will instantly realize he is there and pull him to pieces. He knows just what it looks like, when they pull a human body to pieces. He's seen it so many times. He knows where bodies will tear when wrenched, which organs will splatter in what ways upon impact. He has seen so many people battered and broken and torn to a pulp. There's no need to imagine any of it.

So he has to stay perfectly, unblinkingly, unbreathingly still. In the dream he can feel tears running down his cheeks. There's a hundred screams bottled up in his chest, but he can't so much as sniffle or it's all over. The pressure of all that terror is unbearable. He feels like he might burst from it. One of the creatures shifts, and in the dark Ben feels it brush against his arm, suckers dragging along his skin, slightly damp. He is going to break. The terror is too much, and he can feel it eating away at the edges of his mind, driving him insane. Maybe it would be better to just get it over with. Cry out and let them end him quickly.

In the bed with Klaus, Ben is not speaking, the way Klaus does in his nightmares - murmuring protests and pleas. He is just as paralyzed as he is inside the dream, still but sweating quite a bit, breaths coming thin and fast and nakedly terrified. ]

[deadlycurves]

[He smiles a little, something small and tinted with sadness. Because even though Ben was just gonegonegone for Diego, he knows the reverse wasn't true for Ben. Not exactly, not really. At least, not whenever he was around Klaus. The siblings' estrangement from each other over the years probably made it feel more like the same, for Ben, but... not just assuming it, actually physically hearing it straight from him, in his own voice, is a lot more emotional than Diego might have expected. Especially since he'd already had the Oh my God, you're alive moment with another, different Ben somewhere else before this. But it's not the same. It's so different. And it hurts. But it's that next set of words that really drive the dagger between his ribs further in, twist in the pain just a little deeper. He shakes his head a little.] Don't... don't do that. That- that's not your fault. It's not-- you didn't ask to- to die, Ben. It wasn't some choice you made, it- it just happened. ["Just happened" might be a bit of an understatement, really, but... well. It was more that than an active choice, at least. But... apparently, that isn't where this ends. Ben keeps going. And it keeps making this whole conversation harder and harder. Because he wasn't supposed to ever have this chance. He wasn't supposed to be able to say any of this. But he is, and he can, and Diego can't help wonder if he'll forget all of this if he ever goes home. And these things? These are things he would have killed, probably literally, to hear from someone. Dad. Luther, even. But he never got that kind of recognition. That kind of acknowledgment that would have been so easy, so simple for anyone to give, but mean the absolute world to him. And here's Ben, giving it his all to make Diego have to blink back stinging sharpness from his eyes. He kind of hates him for that, in that way that only a brother can say he hates you, and you know he never in a million years could mean it, not really. When he speaks again, his voice is soft and it wavers a little.] Thank you... [He fidgets idly with his own fingers, not sure what he's supposed to say on the heels of that, that would mean anything like what Ben just said meant to him. It takes him another long, several minutes to figure it out, to put the words together in the right way that made it all matter. And in the end, he's not sure it does at all, anyway.] I wish I could've believed Klaus sooner about you... I guess, maybe-- I dunno, maybe I just couldn't let myself believe it, because it wasn't fair that he got to keep you, while the rest of us just lost you. You were there, and then you weren't, and that was it. [His voice is thick with emotion.] I missed you all the time... I couldn't stand to be in that house knowing it, and Dad, and his mission for us, is what got you killed. I didn't wanna watch the same thing happen to the rest of us... so I left.

[benhargreeves]

[ When Diego tells him not to say sorry, that it wasn't his fault he died, Ben gives a small shrug. He appreciates the ferocity in Diego's words, and the sentiment behind them. Because he thinks he knows what his brother is doing. Diego has made the understandable, but inaccurate, assumption that Ben feels like his death with his own fault. Ben can see why Diego would think that. Reginald had taught all of them, again and again, that there was no one to blame for their failures but themselves. If they got hurt, it was doubtless because they'd made an error, or simply weren't good enough. So he gets it, why Diego has made the assumption that Ben is beating himself up for dying. And it's nice. Diego protecting him so passionately from himself - even if it isn't necessary.

Gently, he corrects: ]

I don't blame myself. But gone is still gone, and I am sorry.

[ He does Diego the favor of pretending not to notice that he's fighting tears back. Klaus has always been so free with expressing his emotions, crying included, but Diego and Ben are different. So he feigns ignorance, waits for Diego to compose himself enough to speak.

Ben nods slowly, when Diego explains why he didn't listen to Klaus all those times he talked about Ben being there, or offering his opinion. He had guessed it was something like that. And he knows, too, how much Klaus had strained the others's ability to trust him.

Always one to offer some gentle advice to his siblings, Ben says: ]

I know it's hard, but you should tell Klaus that sometime. About why you didn't believe him, and that you wish you had. I think it would mean a lot to him.

[ Ben knows how hard it is for Diego to express himself earnestly like this - to speak from a place of honesty and vulnerability. So much easier to lash out in anger or frustration or resentment. He knows, from experience, that Diego will have an easier time talking if he doesn't interrupt him, or react in any large way. Which normally would be no big issue.

Except when Diego starts talking about the period right after he died, and then talking about what had gotten him killed. What hits him is less what Diego actually says, and more the sudden worry about what he might ask about Ben's death. Ben only just realized now he might have questions. Want to discuss it. This isn't something Ben has had to worry about, with Klaus. The two of them have had an ironclad agreement - unspoken, unbreakable - all these years not to talk about Ben's death. The fact of him being dead, sure. They even joke about that, all the time. But the event itself? Never.

But Diego doesn't know that. So when he brings up Ben getting killed, Ben drops his head to his knees, hands raking through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. The change, from calm listening to contained distress, is unmistakable. Tightly, he warns: ]

I can't talk about it, Diego. What happened. I know you might want to but I can't.

[deadlycurves]

[He still feels a knee-jerk need to correct that apology, again, even with the explanation attached to it, too. Ben, of all people, has nothing to be sorry about. But he tamps it down and manages to keep it quiet and to himself. No need in going in useless circles for no reason, right? He wouldn't expect him to call attention to his tears, but that expectation of avoidance doesn't make Diego any less grateful for the fact that he doesn't. He's staring at his hands again when Ben makes that suggestion. He knows he's right, he knows he is, but it's so much easier said than done. Easier, even, with Ben because there's still a yawning chasm of emotion stretching him so much thinner with Ben, because he is still not as used to him being here. Available to talk to. To see. To touch. To hug. His eyes burn again and he swallows, hard. It's easier to be annoyed by, angry with the brother that's always existed on some kind of periphery, even in all those years of estrangement, than it is to hold that kind of fire against the one that's just be gone and dead for just as long. He nods carefully at the idea, though. Because he's right. Ben had a nasty habit of being right, far more than Diego ever liked. His head tips up at the movement from Ben-- suddenly looking so small and broken in his own right, curled in on himself, forehead against his knees, hands in his hair and running across his neck. Deigo's breath catches in his throat at the sight, realizing it's something he said that made this happen and he hates it.] It's okay. [The words come flying out of his mouth, too quick, one tripping over the other in a race to get out of his mouth first.] You don't have to talk about it. [He sinks down next to his brother and puts a hand on his shoulder, the smallest effort of comfort he felt like he could try to give him.] We don't- we don't ever have to, it-- it's fine. [He almost said it doesn't matter, but that's a lie of the highest order that even Diego can't let run past his lips. It's fine seemed like the best substitute.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben sits like that a few moments, breaths shuddery. He knows he's the worst kind of hypocrite, always telling Klaus - and now Diego - to do the hard thing, talk about their feelings, work stuff out. But when it comes to his own stuff, he shuts down completely. It's so much easier to give advice than to follow it.

That's why he's doubly grateful for Diego's hand on his shoulder and the way his brother rushes to tell him that he doesn't have to talk about it, that even after all these years he's okay with foregoing answers about what really happened. Ben hadn't thought he would have interrogated out of malice, but Diego is a person who is oriented towards justice. Diego might have wanted the whole story, in detail, so he could know just how much (more) to hold his father - and maybe others - responsible.

But Diego isn't going to make him. So he gathers back his frayed calm, sitting up and smoothing his hair back. It is a visible thing, watching Ben pull himself together again. Voice still a little hollow, he says: ]

Okay.

[ It was such a horrible moment, but it's over now and hopefully they will never have to even have the conversation about not having the conversation ever again. Ben looks over at Diego, whose expression is all soft concern. He had always had that softness, underneath. Ben loves that about him.

He hauls his mind back, to what Diego had actually said - not just what Ben dreaded he would ask next - and says: ]

Leaving was the right call. If you'd stayed... you're right, I probably wouldn't have been the only one who died. I mean, look at Luther.

[ Whether Ben means Luther choosing to stay in their home all those years, or Luther almost dying on that mission, or the experiment their father had done that had left Luther the way he is now, he doesn't specify. All of the above, really.

Ben sighs, shifting so he can lean his shoulder against Diego's, just a little. He even manages a smile, though it is small and wan. ]

I'm glad you got out. And kinda jealous. You've lived so much.

[ There are so many things Ben never got to do. He had been so sheltered from the world, his whole life. It was only after he died, after Klaus ran away, that he started to see the world. He didn't understand what a cage they'd been raised in, what a sick, claustrophobic little laboratory, until it was too late. But Diego had survived. He'd built a place for himself. ]

[deadlycurves]

[It's a long moment before Ben manages to pull himself back together, Diego watches it as it happens and it's the most bizarre thing to see someone do. He wonders if he looks like that when he's tripped over something and has to pull himself back. It feels more seamless than that, but maybe not... With Ben at least a little more at ease now, Diego relaxes, leans against the nearest surface, but stays close enough that when he drops his hand from his brother's shoulder, it leaves him room to lean against him, still. He doesn't mind it so much, if he's honest. The mention of Luther only makes him front a little and he nods a bit.] Yeah... [He'll leave it at that. He misses his other siblings, stuck back in Nonah, probably fretting, wondering if the Porter is adding some new power to him again so soon, or if he, like Vanya, was sent back. He hates the idea of them all worrying, when he's right here, fine as anyone might be able to manage to be all things considered.] It's not all its cracked up to be. [He admits with a small, weak smile. "Better than being dead." a voice in his head bites. He pushes the thought away and ignores it. Ben will know he doesn't mean it like that.]