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klaus

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The Jedi comes to talk to him first.

They have a good conversation until Hopper accuses the man of using Jedi mind tricks on him, to which Kenobi reacts with... well, mild offence is probably the strongest description Hopper can accurately use. Kenobi doesn't really get offended, it seems, and Hopper may have poked and prodded a little, just to see if he could get a rise. Having failed, they go back to the conversation at hand and Hopper agrees to most of what Kenobi asks of him.

No yelling, that he can do. His temper is still something he has to fight with, but it's a lot easier since he stopped drinking. No telling Klaus he's an idiot. They agree going out alone was dangerous, but they also agree Klaus isn't stupid, so Hopper readily agrees to that one, too. And finally, the one that's most difficult to Hopper, he's been asked to make sure Klaus understands any anger or disappointment comes from a place of concern.

Of course Hopper likes the kid. But having to tell him? That's a whole thing Hopper is shit at.

"Are we agreed?" Kenobi asks and Hopper rolls his eyes and says, "Yeah, agreed."

Then he's alone in the precinct, waiting for Klaus to join him.

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Klaus sits in a hard wooden chair in the hall while his boyfriend talks to the cop, probably telling Hopper to be kind and understand and honestly, it kind of pisses Klaus off. As nice a gesture as it is, Klaus can handle being yelled at. He was raised being yelled at, spent most of his life being yelled at in some form of another, and he can certainly handle being yelled at by some small town cop.

When Obi-Wan exits, Klaus gives him a wary sort of look and rises to his feet, tugging on the hem of his shirt with fingertips covered in bandages.

“Is the principal ready to see me now?” Klaus asks dryly, but he does bump his shoulder against Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he passes because he may be irritated, but he still loves this hippy dippy bastard with all of his heart.

Klaus walks into the precinct with his head up, plastering confidence over his scared, tired features like he always has. Unflappable Klaus, who cares about nothing. That’s what he wants the world to see.

“Good morning, officer,” Klaus says brightly, even though there are smudged bruises under his eyes from a lack of sleep and his hands are covered in bandages from trying to claw his way out of a grave. “I understand you have questions.”

"Detective," Hopper corrects, giving Klaus a look, kind of like the ones he gives to Beverly or Eleven when he feels like they're being brats. There's no real heat behind it, though, and he passes Klaus a cup of steaming coffee as he does it, then nods toward the kitchen in the precinct.

"You want sugar or milk, it's in there," he says. "We're gonna head down the hall to room three."

It'll give them some privacy, rather than Hopper taking a statement right out here in the open. It'll be better for them both, he figures, since some of the cops here already give him a hard time for trusting in someone they think is pulling the wool over his eyes.

"Touchy," Klaus replies, but it's in much the same tone that Hopper just used on him. He respects Hopper, and he can't say that about very many people. "Black is fine."

He picks up the cup, nose wrinkling as the heat seeps through his bandages, and walks alongside Hopper down the hall. People shoot him wary glances, some in uniform and some out, but that's okay. A lot of cops didn't like The Umbrella Academy either, so he's used to it.

They enter what looks like an interrogation room and Klaus looks around, knocking on the two-way mirror with his knuckle before dropping into a hard metal chair with an exhausted sigh. "Ah, this takes me back."

"Fond memories?" Hopper asks dryly as he sinks into the other chair with a sigh. He has a notebook, the paperwork they need to fill out, the statement sheet, but he drops them to the side for the moment and leans back into the chair.

"You scared the shit outta me, kid," he says, figuring if Kenobi wants him to be clear about his feelings, that's a good place to start. It's true. Klaus might not be his own in the way Eleven and Beverly are, he's too damn old for that, for one, but all the same, he's involved in this shit because of Hopper.

Or he's involved because of the ghosts, but Hopper has a hand in it, too. He'd be pretty goddamn broken up if something happened to Klaus in the process of trying to bring some creep to justice.

Well, that isn't what he was expecting. The surprise is clear on his face, and he stares at Hopper for a long moment. It's not as if Hopper is an unkind man. Gruff, to be sure, but fair. He is a decent person, but Klaus hadn't expected such concern and an endearment to boot. Honestly, he had expected to be lectured.

For a one very brief moment, Klaus wonders if maybe Obi-Wan had done more than just talk to Hopper, but he quickly dismisses it outright. With all the power that Obi-Wan has, Klaus has never once seen him abuse it.

"I, uh-- that wasn't my intention," Klaus replies, obviously a little thrown by it all. "It honestly never occurred to me that I'd be danger."

But to be fair, it never really does.

"Yeah, walking into an empty warehouse in the dark in the middle of the night where you know some girls have been murdered seems real safe," Hopper answers in a deadpan voice. It might not be the nicest thing he's ever said, but he isn't yelling and the expression he's wearing hopefully communicates that it's coming from a place of genuine concern.

He heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand over his face.

"Look, this arrangement we've got, it works, right?" he asks. "So you gotta trust me more when it comes to this stuff. I'm a halfway decent detective and we should make sure we do this shit properly so these people get put away."

"With all due respect, I've been sent into situations like that since I was old enough to walk," Klaus tells him, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the metal table. The umbrella tattoo is stark against his pale skin, stretched out a little due to the fact that he's about twice as big as he was when he first got it. The idea that anyone thinks that he can't take care of himself gets his hackles raised, eyes narrowing slightly, but Hopper looks so damn sincere that Klaus lets it go.

He realizes then that he's worried about disappointing Hopper, and he nearly rolls his eyes at himself. Fucking daddy issues.

"I thought I would find a body and call you to come get it, just like the other times," Klaus explains tiredly. "I get it, okay? I fucked up. Next time I'll call you first. I know things went south this time, but I am not helpless."

His brow furrows and he looks down at his bandaged fingertips, picking at the edge of one coming loose around his thumb, and then continues quietly. The image of Taylor's spirit comes to mind again, face gaunt and sorrowful and scared, and he bites his lip. "You didn't see her, okay? I just-- I didn't want to lose her."

"Yes, I got the sense your dad is about as good as Eleven's was when it comes to that shit," Hopper answers in a dry voice. "I know you're not helpless, kid, but everyone can take care of themselves until the day they can't. That's the thing that gets people worried.'

He sighs then and rubs a hand over his face, scraping his palm against stubble.

"Alright, enough giving you shit," he decides. "I know I didn't see her, I can't see her. Just... tell me what happened. From the beginning."

"If Eleven had a shit dad who exploited her for her powers and didn't give a shit about her mental wellbeing, then--" Klaus pauses to put his bandaged hands on either side of his face, mouth open in a mock gasp. "We're twins!"

He doesn't know much about Eleven's upbringing, but at least she's in good hands now. Klaus doesn't have any real frame of reference when it comes to good dads, but he imagines that Hopper is a pretty great one.

"I was out for a walk and heading to Obi-Wan's place," Klaus begins with a tired sigh, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the cool metal table. "I was passing the parking lot for that club on Candlewood. The obvious front." He snaps his fingers a few times as he tries to think of the name. "Midnight Runners. Taylor found me and just started going on and on and then I called you. She was just-- she was pulling at me and begging for help and it's kind of hard to ignore them when they're like that. I can-- I can feel them in my head."

Klaus lets out another sigh and puts his hands on his cheeks again, fingers sliding into his hair. "I thought she just wanted her body to be found. So many can't move on without that. I thought that's all it was going to be."

"Sounds like Brenner," Hopper answers, a little alarmed by just how much it sounds like Brenner. It's pretty shit to realize just how many of these awful people are out there in the world taking advantage of kids just because they've got some kind of special power.

He takes notes as Klaus speaks, jotting things down, underlining certain aspects. The club is important, he's been trying to take down a few of the people who work there for months now. The girl is important, too.

"Can you describe her for me?" he asks. "So we can identify her out of... well, out of all of them."

"Her dad and my dad should get together in Hell and go bowling," Klaus jokes tiredly, because he can't not make a joke. If he takes it too seriously, he'll fall apart. "Or do you pre-date The Breakfast Club?"

Then Hopper asks for a description and Klaus's expression sobers, because even he can't make a joke about something like that. He closes his eyes and sees Taylor there, eyes milky as she screams out to him, and his brow furrows.

"She's buried in the northeast corner," he says quietly, picking at his thumbnail for a moment before looking up at Hopper again. "Blonde. Short, probably barely over a hundred pounds. She had on a purple miniskirt and-- and nothing else."

He swallows hard and reaches for his coffee, taking a long sip. "She had a head injury and bruises around her neck, but I'd bet that most of them do." Klaus sets the cup down and reaches for the cigarettes in his jacket pocket, only to remember where he is and drop his hand. "Do you have a number yet?"

"Eight," Hopper answers as he jots down this description. "It's a bad scene."

And Klaus would've been number nine. Not because he fit any sort of profile, he doesn't at all, but out of necessity. Out of a need for this piece of shit to keep himself from getting caught. If not for the Jedi, that might honestly have been the case.

Instead, they're gonna find this guy. And he'll go to prison for a long damn time for what he's done.

"A lot of families are gonna get some closure," he says. "That's about the only good thing that can come of this."

Eight. Klaus's lips press into a thin line and he nods jerkily, taking a moment to process it. He had known that he and Taylor weren't the only ones buried under that floor, but eight? He wants to ask if they were buried alive like him, if they were assaulted, but having that information won't help anything.

"Do you have any leads on the bastard?" Klaus finally asks, swallowing hard as he lifts his head, expression hardening to conceal what he's feeling. He's had a lot of practice with that. "I know he got the drop on me, but he had to left something behind."

He looks down at his bandaged fingers and then rests his hands on the table, breathing in deep to keep himself calm. "Closure is all well and good but it means fuck all if he can do it again."

"Knowing what happened to their family member means more than you might think," Hopper answers. Of course he doesn't want this bastard to be able to hurt someone else, but all the same, the families who are looking for their daughter, their sister, their mother, they're going to find some peace just having an answer.

"Forensics team is still combing the scene, but I know they've found a couple prints. We're running them, hoping for the best," he says. "Our best lead right now besides that is identifying the women and being able to talk to their family members to get as much information as possible."

"Yeah." Klaus swallows hard, jaw working as he reaches for his coffee. It is good to know that families will have closure, but he isn't sure that he'll be able to relax again until the asshole is off the streets.

"He was taller than me by an inch or so. A white guy, pale. Smelled like cheap aftershave," Klaus says, eyes closed as he thinks back to those few seconds of consciousness when the man grabbed him. His head turns to the side, eyes still closed, and he remembers a glint of gold. "He had a gold wedding band on."

He opens his eyes and looks at Hopper again. "I've asked some of my own contacts to keep an eye on the site and report back." He smiles placidly. "But don't worry. Your guys won't even know that they're there."

Hopper has to wonder what goes wrong with someone like that. Married, seemingly normal, and then he turns around and does something like this, all these women, all those lives. He's got his own issues, he's well aware of it, but damned if he would ever hurt someone in this horrible way.

He rolls his eyes a little at Klaus's comment about his own guys, still not entirely able to believe he's in a place where ghosts are feeding him information. But it works. He can't pretend it doesn't.

"Lemme know if they come up with anything," he says. "I'm confident about this, alright, kid? I think we're gonna get this guy and I don't think it's gonna take much time."

He expects a little pushback, but besides a little spin of his eyes, he doesn't complain. Maybe it's unconventional, but it was a ghost that cracked this case open. Maybe a ghost can help close it.

"I'll keep you up to date as long as you do the same for me," Klaus says he slowly pulls himself to his feet. He's sore from head to toe-- headache from the gas, bruised up from throwing himself against the sides of that wooden box, fingers stinging beneath his bandages. But he's had worse.

"Do you need anything else from me right now?" He asks with a heaving sigh. "Because I've got a boyfriend out there who will sing me to sleep if I ask, and I want a week long nap."

Edited 2022-06-21 00:38 (UTC)

"I'll call you if I think of anything else," Hopper says, waving his hand at Klaus in a gesture that could feel dismissive if not for the way he's looking at him. There's concern in his expression, in the way he watches how Klaus levers himself to his feet in obvious pain.

"Take care of yourself, kid," he says. "And next time, call for some damn backup. You've got my direct line."

He'll be there. Day or night.

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