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“Oh, Klaus, a letter came for you,” said Allison, voice scratchy but functional again.
“Huh?” said Klaus intelligently, blinking up from behind his coffee cup. In his defence, it was early. Now that he was clean, he couldn’t just pop an upper when he woke up, and one thing that hadn’t changed in the past 17 years was that Klaus was decidedly not a morning person.
“Yeah,” she said, standing to retrieve the envelope that she had left by the coffee maker. “Here.”
Klaus reached for the letter, curious. Who would be sending him mail here? He had only been back at the mansion for a couple of weeks, and everyone who knew that was already gathered around the breakfast table.
He took a look at the address.
Klaus Hargreeves
Hargreeves Mansion
New York City
NY, USA
To be delivered on April 5th 2019
Klaus felt his heart miss a beat.
He knew that handwriting.
He had seen glimpses of that familiar scrawl every day for 10 months, watching Dave scribble in his diary ( journal, Klaus, it’s not a diary, quit making fun of me) and write letters to his sister back home. He studied the words now, the curl of the K, the sharp lines of the H, and knew that he wasn’t mistaken. Dave wrote this letter.
A noise escaped him, somewhere between a gasp and a whine. His head was spinning, and he drew in a ragged breath, gripping the edge of the table tight.
“Klaus?” asked Ben.
“Klaus? What is it?” questioned Diego, laying a hand on Klaus shoulder, just above his Sky Soldier tattoo.
“It’s Dave,” choked out Klaus, unable to peel his eyes away from the yellowed envelope. “It’s from Dave.”
“From Dave,” repeated Luther, confusion clear in his voice.
Klaus hadn’t told his siblings much about his time in Vietnam, just the bare minimum: he had travelled back in time and met someone called Dave. Klaus had come back. Dave hadn’t.
Blunt as ever, Five said, “I thought he died in 1969?”
“Five!” chided Vanya.
“He did,” said Klaus, voice thick and wobbling.
“So how…?” trailed off Diego.
Klaus shook his head. “I don’t- I don’t know.”
A pause. Then, Vanya asked, “Are you going to open it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll-” Klaus stood, his chair screeching as it pushed out. “I’ll be in my room.”
“Want me to come with?” asked Ben.
“I think I’d rather read it alone,” muttered Klaus.
Klaus floated out of the room, eyes still on the envelope, which he cradled carefully. His siblings exchanged worried looks behind his retreating form.
Klaus got to his room without really remembering walking there. It was like he was high; everything was distant, time skipping forward and slowing down at random. He sat on his bed, and then changed his mind, curling up in the corner of the room instead, with his back to the wall and good sightlines to the door and window. It was where he sat after a flashback or a nightmare. Something about it made Klaus feel safe, even if the only danger was the paper he held in his hand.
Klaus swallowed, mouth dry, before flipping the envelope over. He wiggled a finger under the flap, determined not to tear the old, fragile looking paper. He eased the envelope open. Steeling himself, he pulled out the sheet of paper inside, unfolding it.
The air in Klaus’ lungs left him in a whoosh. The paper was filled with Dave’s handwriting. A tear ran down Klaus cheek, disturbing his eyeliner, and Klaus wiped it away impatiently.
He took a slow breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like Dave had taught him.
And then he began reading.
Dear Klaus,
I’ve started this letter a hundred times by now. Every time, I end up feeling foolish, and tear the paper up before anyone can see it. I think this is the one, though. Davis died today. It was bad. Well, you remember. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. Three feet to the right, and it would have been me, and I would never have said goodbye to you.
I’m scared
So this time, I’m going to finish it, even if I feel ridiculous.
So. Here it goes.
If you’re reading this, several things must be true.
Firstly, it means that you were being honest about the briefcase. Please understand, it’s not that I think you were lying to me, but time travel is pretty hard to get your head around, especially for a country boy like me.
Secondly, it means that my sister kept her word. She’s promised that she will make sure this gets delivered - or, she will make sure that her future child delivers it. She’s likely too old to be traipsing up to New York, by the time that you’re reading this. She was confused when I gave her the instructions, and she still pesters me for an explanation with every letter she sends, but she swore on Ma’s grave that she would do it.
Thirdly, it means that you found your way back to your time. I’m glad. I know that your family are difficult, but for all that you complain, I know that you love them, and they love you. And God knows you deserve to be loved. I hope that they’re with you now. If not, I hope you go to them. After this war, you deserve to have people there for you, and if it can’t be me, I hope it’s your siblings. Tell them hi from me. Tell them that they better take care of you, or I’m gonna be haunting their asses.
And finally, it means I’m dead. Sorry.
I never wanted to leave you. I hope you know that if I had a choice, I would be there. I would have travelled to 2019 with you, if you had asked, or we could have settled down in my time, like we talked about. Hell, if you decided that you wanted to live in the Cretaceous Period I would be right there with you. But I guess that we never got that chance.
At least I kept my promise about spending the rest of my life with you. (Too soon? Probably too soon. Read this letter again next year, and I bet it will make you laugh then. You always did have a dark sense of humour.)
There’s so much I want to say, and at the same time, none of it seems important. What can I tell you that you don’t already know? My sister always does say that I’m shit at writing letters. I hope you never have to read this. Maybe you’ve already found my ghost in 2019, and I’m all embarrassed, and I’m begging you not to read this but you’re reading it anyway because you’re stubborn and you love teasing me about how sappy I am. That’s a nice thought. Still, I can’t guarantee it. I’ll wait for you, if I can, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay, or if you’ll be able to see me. If you can’t find me, please don’t blame yourself. Don’t waste your life waiting for my ghost.
Please, if you can do one thing for me, please, don’t lose hope. You’ve been through so much, I know, but you’re so strong, and I know that you can survive this. Please live. If not for yourself, do it for me. Be kind to yourself, the way you were kind to me. Let your family see the vulnerable parts of you, the parts that you showed me. I know it scares you, but the soft side of you is so so beautiful, and I can’t bear the thought of you hiding it away.
I want you to know that if I could go back and change things - make sure that they never drew my birthday, make sure that I never had to touch a gun or crawl through dirt or press down on a GSW whilst my friend bled out underneath me - I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. Not if it meant I never met you. Maybe that’s crazy. I bet you’re thinking it right now, giving this letter that look. I know. But it’s the truth. I’d live through this war a hundred times, as long as it meant that you were part of my life. Because you, Klaus Hargreeves, were the best part of my life. When I try to think back before you, it’s like looking through murky water, everything dingy and meaningless. Then you came into my life, and the whole world lit up with colour, like the Fourth of July, everything shining and dazzling and brilliant.
I wish I had the words to tell you how I feel when I look at you. I’m not sure the words exist. If they did, I would say them to you every morning, every night. I would tattoo them on my skin so that you could never forget. But they don’t exist, so all I can tell you is this: When you smile, my heart feels so big in my chest that it's almost painful. And when you cry, even when you try to hide your tears behind a smile, I feel like I’ve been shot in the gut. You laugh, and the sun comes out, and the world brightens. When you go away, it hurts so bad that I think I might die. None of these words are enough, but they are all that I have. Just these, and three more: I love you.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Even now, when I’m dead, I love you. You, Klaus Hargreaves, are so fucking loved.
What else is there to say?
Yours forever,
Dave
Klaus read the letter again and again, until his vision was too blurred with tears to read anymore, and he had to put the letter up on his desk to make sure it wasn’t smudged by his tears. He curled in on himself, muffling his sobs into his knees, even if no one was there to hear him. Dave’s words were running through his mind on repeat, and he was choking on them. Every word gutted him a little more, another knife in his heart.
It was the best thing he had ever read.
He had almost got himself under control when a knock sounded at his door.
“Come in,” Klaus called, cringing at how his voice broke. He unfolded himself so that he was sat cross-legged on the floor.
The door was pushed open gently, and to his surprise, revealed his siblings - all six of them.
“Hi,” said Klaus uncertainty, wiping at his tears with the heel of his palms.
“Hey, bro,” said Diego, voice soft, as he stepped into the room. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” said Klaus, “What’s up?”
Vanya took a shy step forward. “We wanted to make sure you were okay, after the letter.”
“Oh. Well, thank you,” said Klaus, nonplussed.
“So, are you? Okay, I mean,” said Luther, an awkward figure at the back of the group.
“I mean… not really?” said Klaus, words pitching high at the end as he swallowed down a sob.
A pause, and then Allison marched forward, taking a seat next to Klaus. “Its okay, you know, to not be alright. We’re here with you.”
At those words, Klaus broke.
He keened and tilted sideways into his sister, who caught him with strong arms. Before Klaus could feel ashamed at the shattered noises he was making, the room flashed with a burst of blue, and Five was sat on his other side, a silent but steady presence. Then Diego dropped down, close enough that he could put his hand on Klaus skinny ankle, drawing circles with a calloused thumb, and Vanya lowered herself to the floor by Five, taking Klaus’ hand in her smaller one. Luther ambled forward and squeezed himself into the space left between Diego and Vanya, and with exaggerated care, settled a hand on Klaus knee.
Behind the siblings, Ben stood watching, expression a strange mix of sadness and pride. “It’s going to be okay, Klaus,” he murmured as Klaus gasped convulsively, body jolting. “Just breathe. You’re in the worst of it now, but you’re not alone.”
Klaus wept. Even as he cried, giving sound to the awful pain that he had been carrying inside, he thought that Ben might be right.
At the very least, he wasn’t alone.