Chapter Text
It started off small. Klaus had lost a little weight, but then, his appetite had never really bounced back after he’d gotten sober. The itchy feeling could be put down to the cravings for the happy little pills that his body had gotten accustomed to. He got breathless easily, found himself coughing sometimes, but then, what do you expect from someone who had been chain smoking since he was thirteen? And sure, sometimes he woke up at night drenched in sweat, but you would too if you had nightmares like Klaus did.
All in all, the symptoms were easy to explain away.
That was his downfall, in the end. He kept dismissing those nagging thoughts until it was too late. By the time he noticed the little lump in his armpit, it had gone on too long, had gotten a tight hold on his body.
When his doctor - a real doctor, not Grace, who had looked disturbingly concerned when he had rattled off his symptoms - received the biopsy results and told him the diagnosis, Klaus had laughed and laughed and laughed. The doctor had looked alarmed, and that made him laugh harder.
Hodgkin lymphoma, already in the later stages.
Klaus had never expected this. He had expected to die young, but he figured it would be the result of one too many highs, poisoning himself over and over until his heart couldn’t be shocked back to life. He thought, at least, that if it was cancer, it would be lung cancer, but no. This had nothing to do with the drugs, or the cigarettes. Totally random. Mundane. It was hilarious. Klaus had survived his childhood, and his father, and countless overdoses, had outlived war and the goddamn apocalypse. Was he really going to die of cancer?
Ben cried in the corner of the sterile doctor’s office. Klaus thought that fair enough. That was what you were meant to do, probably, in these sorts of situations. Klaus considered faking a few tears for his sake, but couldn’t quite find the energy. Klaus was tired a lot, these days.
The doctor then started rambling about treatment options, but Klaus got distracted by one of the many ghosts crowding the room. He hated hospitals. A lot of them, here in the oncology ward, were pale and hairless. He wondered absently if he would lose his hair. He rather liked his hair.
“-sir? Do you want me to repeat that?”
“What?” asked Klaus, refocusing on the doctor.
The man looked at him with sympathetic eyes, and Klaus felt his skin crawl. Stop looking at me like that, he wanted to say, but that would only provoke more pity.
“I said, in most cases, this kind of cancer is very treatable, but looking at your test results… I would have to guess that you’ve had this for quite a while. It’s already progressed to your liver, and your blood tests indicated- What I mean to say is, we don’t expect that the cancer is curable, in your case.”
“Oh,” said Klaus. He licked his lips. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, hesitant. “I would still recommend that we start you on chemotherapy. It may help slow the progression and relieve some symptoms.”
“Sure,” said Klaus agreeably. Then, “Wait. Will I have to stay here for that? In the hospital, I mean? I really don’t like hospitals.”
“No. We can give you them in tablet form,” the doctor explained.
“Oh. Alright then.”
“However, first - I’m sorry, I know this may seem insensitive, but I have to ask - you see, these drugs are very expensive, and you don’t have health insurance,” said the doctor, grimacing.
“Well, that’s where we’re in luck. My very rich father passed away back in March,” Klaus said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the doctor.
“I’m not,” Klaus replied, a sharp laugh bubbling out. His grin was forced. He blamed it on the fact that Ben was still crying.
“Um. Right,” the doctor blinked. “Well, I recommend that we start you on chemo straight away. I will also set up an appointment for you to meet your key worker. They will be your first point of contact for me and the rest of your team.”
“Team?” questioned Klaus. “That seems a bit excessive.”
The doctor gave him a long, serious look. “Your cancer may not be curable, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to be done. We’re here to make sure that you get the most time you can, and are able to live to the best quality possible.”
Klaus coughed. “Sure, sure. So… how long do I have, doc?”
The doctor grimaced. “It’s difficult to tell - varies from person to person.”
“But if you were a betting man?” Klaus persisted.
“Six months. Maybe less.”
“Right,” said Klaus. “Is that everything?”
Klaus walked home. It was longer than he would usually walk, but he had been avoiding buses since the whole ‘Nam incident, and didn’t feel like harassing Diego into picking him up. Fortunately, he was intimately familiar with every hospital in the area, so he could walk home with his eyes closed. Ben was curiously silent. Klaus almost asked him what he was thinking, before deciding to be selfish and enjoy the quiet a little longer.
When Klaus got home (and wasn’t that a novel concept?), he stood in the hall for a moment. He felt lost, like the ghost he was soon to be. It was funny, he thought, how nothing had changed. Intellectually, he knew that he had only been gone a few hours, but it felt like a lifetime. It had been… significant. Klaus thought that the mansion should reflect that, somehow, like the chandelier that had laid on the floor for the duration of the week leading up to the almost apocalypse.
When he got up to his room, he took out the new pills he had received and looked at them for a while. They were small. Innocent looking. He had taken a million pills that had looked just like these. They had all been toxic, in the end. These were just a more socially acceptable version. The leaflet inside was long and dense with tiny script, the list of side effects long and important looking. Klaus tried not to look too closely, letting his eyes skate over them the way he did with the more violent ghosts. He popped his first one, and swallowed it dry. The motion was familiar in a sickening, exciting way. Something in his brain begged him to take another, and he had to remind himself that these weren’t the kind that got you high. Then he tucked the package away where he wouldn’t have to look at it. It felt like contraband.
He stood, looked in the mirror. He had thought that dying people looked worse than this. He didn’t look sick, or, not much sicker than he usually did. His bones were a little too prominent, skin slightly sallow, but he didn’t look like a cancer patient. Not yet. He ran a hand through his dark curls. Dave had always liked his hair. He pushed the thought down.
“Hey Ben, do you think I will still look hot bald?” he asked, glib.
“Klaus,” said Ben, voice exasperated and crackly from crying.
“You’re right,” Klaus said with false seriousness, “Of course I will.”
Ben started crying again.
“Shit, don’t do that!” yelped Klaus. “I might not even lose my hair. Not everyone does, you know. Sometimes it just thins out a bit, and my hair’s nice and thick, so I can afford to lose a little bit.”
“This isn’t about your hair, you idiot!” Ben hiccupped.
“Idiot? Is that the way you talk to dying people?”
“Stop it! Stop acting like this is okay!” cried Ben. “This isn’t okay!”
“Alright, okay!” Klaus acquiesced, hands up. Hello. Goodbye.
“I don’t want you to die,” said Ben, arms wrapped around himself like he’s physically holding himself together. Klaus hadn’t seen Ben this upset since they were kids. Something pinched uncomfortable in his gut.
“I don’t think it sounds like a great time either, bro,” said Klaus. “But hey, it’s not like you won’t see me anymore, right?”
Ben shook his head. “It won’t be the same. We won’t be able to talk to the rest of them anymore.”
Klaus swallowed, ducking his head. “They survived without me for eleven years. They’ll be alright,” he said. It felt like a lie.
“Things were just getting good,” mumbled Ben.
“I know.” Klaus slid down to sit on the floor, legs crossed underneath him. There was a bitter taste in his mouth.
Ben joined him on the floor. “We were just getting to be a family again.”
“Yeah,” Klaus agreed tiredly.
Ben eyed him. “You need to tell them, y’know.”
“Sure, I will. Just- not yet,” said Klaus.
“Then when?” questioned Ben.
Klaus shrugged. “When I feel like it, I guess.”
“Klaus-” Ben started, reproachful.
“Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture,” Klaus interrupted. “I’m taking a nap.”
He lumbered over to the bed, tucking himself under the covers.
When Klaus woke, he felt groggy and a little nauseous. He wondered if that was the chemo kicking in, or just a result of the nap. Still, at Ben’s insistence, he dragged himself out of bed and fixed his eyeliner before going in search of dinner.
In the kitchen, he found his siblings gathered eating. Something sour and envious simmered in his stomach, but he tried to ignore it. “Hello, my darlings.”
There was a round of greetings from his siblings.
“Hello, Klaus!” Grace sang, “There's plenty left over, why don't you take a seat?”
“Thanks, mom,” said Klaus, sitting down and pulling out the chair beside him so that Ben could take a seat. No one blinked at his behaviour; now that his siblings believed that Ben was around, they were more accepting of his strange habits. Grace placed a plate in front of him. His stomach rolled slightly at the smell, but he expected that it would only get worse later, so he made himself take a bite.
“So where were you today, bro?” asked Diego.
Klaus was careful not to let the tension show. “Oh, yknow, around. Did you miss me?”
“Nah,” Diego snarked, “I was just wondering why the house was so peaceful.”
Klaus almost said, don't worry, brother, soon you'll have peace every day, and then his stomach lurched so suddenly that he had to press his palm to his mouth and take deep breaths.
“Klaus?” said Vanya, “Are you okay?”
When Klaus looked up, he realised that all his siblings were watching him, and plastered on a grin. “Never better!”
“Are the cravings bad?” asked Allison.
Diego interjected, “Or is it, yknow, flashbacks and shit?”
Klaus smiled, and it was genuine this time. Sometimes he was still floored by how things had changed between them. “I'm okay,” said Klaus, more open than he had ever been with his siblings as a child. In that moment, it even felt like the truth.
Two days later, and Klaus woke from his sleep to his name being yelled, and not by the usual ghosts that haunted his nights. This was Ben, and more distantly, Luther.
“What?” Klaus whined.
“Luther’s calling for you,” explained Ben.
Klaus gave a wordless grunt, and reluctantly staggered out of bed. He squinted against the midday sun as he made his way downstairs.
“Finally!” said Luther, “Someone’s on the phone for you.”
Klaus frowned. There weren’t that many people that knew he was staying at the mansion, and all of them shared his surname. Still, he took the phone and said, “Hello, Klaus speaking.”
“Hello! I’m calling from St Mary’s treatment centre to set up an appointment for you to meet your key worker?”
“Oh!” said Klaus. He tucked the phone closer to his ear and angled himself away from Luther, who was hovering behind his shoulder. “Sure, sure.”
“Are you available on Friday? At half past eleven?” the receptionist inquired.
“Uh, yeah, that’s fine,” said Klaus.
“Excellent!” she trilled. “See you then!”
“Bye,” said Klaus, hanging up. He turned around, his expression an attempt at nonchalance. He was much better at acting when he was high. Probably.
“Who was that?” asked Luther.
Klaus froze for a second. Then- “Your mom.”
Luther rolled his eyes. “So mature,” he grumbled, stumbling away.
Klaus let out a slow breath, leaning against the wall. Maybe Ben was right. Keeping secrets was stressful, and he wasn’t very good at it. Then he imagined their faces when he told them that they would lose a brother, just after getting the others back, and shook his head. Not yet. Not yet.