Chapter Text
Over the course of his life, Klaus has fallen many times. Whether it was a close encounter with his face due to his hungover feet, or a long slide down the stairs like when he tried on his mother's heels, he can consider himself an expert on the subject.
The moment his back hits the ground barely makes the top five.
Perhaps from the shock and exhaustion of the past few hours, or perhaps because the few neurons responsible for his survival (most of which were delegated to Ben) were destroyed the moment he entered the theater, Klaus remains peacefully lying there, staring at the sky.
The ground is comfortable enough, though it's covered with dry leaves that crunch when Klaus sits up.
And it's here that he realizes he's not in the theater or anywhere he knows. (The woods don't look like Central Park, and he doesn't believe the academy has one hidden in the back.)
When he stands up, he feels more unsteady than usual, which is decidedly strange for someone who's spent most of his life walking drunk and high through the streets of New York in high heels.
But then he looks down and sees he's wearing a blue uniform he's sure he burned off at eighteen.
He can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes (Thanks a lot, Dad)
but after all the crazy things he's been through these past few days, ending up in his thirteen-year-old body isn't such a strange possibility. He understands Five now.
-BEN! DIEGO! FIVE!-
He starts screaming, hoping his siblings have landed nearby, but if they are, they're ignoring him. At least Ben could have the decency to show up, though.
Absent-mindedly, he puts his hand to his chest to feel the comforting weight of the dog tag, but he grasps nothing.
And then his mind begins to spiral. He can survive without his brothers in an unfamiliar environment in his pre-bursting body, but losing the dog tag means losing Dave, and Klaus can't go through losing him again…
His throat closes and he can't breathe. He frantically searches for the dog tag among the leaves but can't find it.
He collapses to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks and the feeling of drowning.
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It takes a few minutes for the world to start moving again and Klaus can think clearly again. A few ghosts have gathered at the edge of the clearing. Klaus tries to enjoy the moment before they realize he can see them and start screaming.
Speaking of ghosts, Klaus is starting to believe they can't travel through time. Otherwise, Ben would have already appeared. Either that, or he's somewhere sulking at him.
Slowly, he begins to walk through the woods. Years of Reginald and his training records, street survival, and treks in Vietnam have taught him how to behave in extreme situations. (Although Klaus was always half-stoned on those occasions, he manages to glean something from what he remembers.)
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After what seems like hours, at least according to his aching feet, he reaches what looks like a gas station. His stomach growls and he's dying of thirst.
When he enters, the clerk is dozing and doesn't even notice him. Klaus begins stuffing his pockets with everything he sees. He's grateful that Reginald had them made uniforms with so many pockets.
As he turns the corner, his arms overflowing with packaged foods, he sees a row of newspapers and magazines on the shelves. Right, he still hasn't seen where or how many days back Five sent him.
He cranes his neck to see the date on the newspaper and chokes on his saliva:
Hawkins, April 1, 1983
He freezes in place for a moment, and the bags of chips nearly fall from his arms.
36 years in the past. I wasn't even born.
Dazed, he heads for the exit and prepares to run, but the clerk continues to sleep.
Klaus leaves the store.
As he heads toward the woods, with the tingling of a headache and his arms aching from the weight of the food, he begins to believe he's more alone than he's ever been.