Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Problem Statement

11th January, 1999

Azzie had finally started school.

Of course, there were well over a dozen milestones the kid had completed spectacularly before starting first grade, but Clara couldn't be more proud of the little girl as she walked her to school every day. Little Azzie was getting something Clara herself had never received as a child, stability and education.

When the girl had first elected to utter her first word, everyone had been beside themselves with joy. Despite all the doctors and pediatricians insisting that there was nothing wrong with her, that she would speak in her own time, a sliver of doubt had still lingered around Harrington House. Azzie had gotten good at giving instructions and making herself understood via points, nods and shakes of her tiny head and Clara secretly worried the child would get so comfortable, she would never opt to speak. Then one day as Kit was tucking her in wishing her goodnight, the child simply let slip a "Night dad" before falling promptly asleep.

Clara had been in her own room, freshly wrapped in a towel just out of the shower when Kit had burst in and picked her up off her feet, spinning her around the room in jubilation. When the Seer had demanded to know the reason for the celebration, he had quietly admitted Azalea had finally said something out loud, two whole words. The grin that blossomed on Clara's face matched his own doofy one as both of them rushed to Klaus's room to tell him the good news.

The three friends had been up half the night celebratory drinking in light of their amazing parenting skills, but around three they had all meandered off to bed. It took some doing but the next morning, no one had made a big fuss when Azzie asked for her orange juice. Best not to overwhelm the child on her first real day of speaking.

That had been October, and since then, the little girl had spoken lots and lots.

Which wasn't to say there were only those joyous moments. There were plenty of terse ones too when Kit took the lead without asking anyone's opinion first. One such moment arose when it came to the matter of what Azalea would call everyone. He had already made it clear from the beginning that the child was to call him "Dad" but when he pointed at Clara on Halloween and suggested Azzie try out "Mom", the Seer had freaked out anew. Luckily the amount of face paint needed to pull off Snow White (her hair didn't go with any other traditional princesses) had hidden the impending panic attack. Also luckily, in all the months of them living together, Klaus had learned a little bit about her body language and intervened, asking Azalea what she'd like to call him and taking her opinion and reasoning into account as they decided on a name together.

While Clara had ducked into the side room to recover. The hallway entrance which had once paid homage to nude sirens of the deep blue sea was now converted into a gallery of still life portraits depicting flowers. Clara had never been a fan of the stark naked mermaids but the flowers felt more artificial the longer she looked. This was their life now and it was not gelling well with the person she used to be.

She was not "Mom", and she was not strong enough to say no to Kit. Which meant she was "Mom" by default. It had taken her an hour to calm down and two more days to make the kid understand that she could call Clara by her name. Kit had disapproved at first, but Azzie's easy acceptance had softened the blow. It was easy to see how the child had slowly but surely become the center of his universe.

But Azalea's presence hadn't changed Kit on a fundamental level like it had Clara. While there was no denying he cared for the girl, he did it in true Kit fashion. He played with her, read her stories, bought her things, took her places and made her laugh. But when it came to the less than charming stuff, the child was bundled off to Clara and even Klaus sometimes. Whenever it came to baths, cleaning up vomit, doing the child's laundry, cleaning up after her meals or dealing with scrapes and bumps, it was clearly out of the photographer's territory. Used to being the responsible one around Kit, the psychic hadn't even noticed until one day in December Azalea had walked up to her with a forlorn look on her face, a trail of bodily fluids dripping behind the child.

Azzie had walked through three rooms and up half a flight of stairs to get Clara when her dad had been in the next room. At first the young woman had only assumed it was a girl thing but several repeat incidences had made the witch realize that little Azzie was slowly learning to come to Clara with messes and not Kit, and that behavior needed to stop. The child should be able to trust all adults in the house equally with what was going on and that needed to start with the adults modelling better behavior.

It was easier said than done however as Kit rarely took her parenting lectures seriously, choosing instead to distract her by pointing a camera at her face or changing the subject. His passion for art had been put on the sidelines over the last few months but as Azalea grew healthier, happier and more well adjusted every day, his zeal for assignments and adventurous spirit returned. Mid November, Kit informed everyone over dinner that he would be going on assignment overnight to LA to shoot a fashion show, quickly adding how he would bring back gifts for everyone. Clara had let it go then, which had been her first mistake because in early December, he had announced another trip, a two day one this time with the assumption that his two friends could easily fill in the gap as co parents in his absence.

That night, Clara had fumed. Though of course, it was hard to have an honest to God fight in a house with a highly perceptive five year old. So they had taken it to the roof where Clara had proceeded to call him every bastard under the sun but had eventually failed to convey her point.The witch was exhausted trying to parent both him and the kid, and in all honesty felt Kit required it a lot more. Azzie, she learned when taught. Kit merely looked on bemused as if the world was a huge joke only his smug face was in on. Clara had never wanted to punch the man more.

So she'd stalked off downstairs and made her way to Klaus's room, letting herself in without knocking and then proceeding to vent some more. Whatever he'd been up to, she couldn't remember now, only that she'd talked and talked and talked until she'd literally driven herself hoarse and then sunk into the plush carpet that now hid the marble patterns on the floor which resembled several spinning labias.

Kit had gone on the trip suitably ashamed, cutting it short by one night and returning with compensation prizes for all. Clara had wanted to be mad at him for longer but then he'd surprised everyone with a rather spectacular Christmas and there was no denying the happiness in Azzie's eyes. They were clearly sending her off to school as happy as she could possibly be.

Kit had Clara had dropped Azalea off on her first day of school, complete with embarrassing photos and hugs. Kit had also tagged along to pick her up. the second day wasn't much different and Clara was finally starting to feel like this was going to work.

Until he'd announced that he'd been called in for a National Geographic piece on some sort of magical beast that only appeared during a certain time. That certain time started Saturday night and lasted all the way til Tuesday afternoon, making his return on Wednesday the thirtieth at the earlier. Yet it wasn't his thoughtless agreement to shirk responsibility that had driven Clara up the wall. it was how he'd casually added "Just take Klaus with you when you pick and drop Azalea, he won't mind." The casual way in which the photographer foisted off responsibility on another left the witch gritting her teeth all the way home.

But this time, she hadn't yelled. She had just told their roommate the news (the visitor had been around too long to be referred to as a guest now) and asked he be ready Monday morning to take Azzie to school with her. Klaus hadn't really objected so here they were on Monday morning, in the parents' drop off zone hugging the child goodbye.

"Bye Klaus, bye Clala," the little brunette chirruped, giving them each a tight squeezy hug that never failed to warm the Seer's heart before she bobbed off to class to join a small groups of friends. Who would have thought any child under the responsibility of Clara would be popular but here they were.

"You know, I still don't get how she's so popular. I couldn't even get along with the kids at my foster homes let alone at school," she commented simply, watching the other kids detach from their parental figures with various degrees of anxiety. One particular redhead was attached to her mother's skirt with permanent glue, yelling her head off insisting she didn't want to go in.

"I would have been more like that kid," she admitted, nudging Klaus towards the temper tantrum on full display.

________________________________________________

Come Plot With Me <3

Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Problem Statement Rsz_mi10

Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Problem Statement Rsz_ja12

Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Problem Statement Rsz_rs13

Guest

So much had happened in a year.

The first of January, 1998. A different time, a different place. He'd finally managed to secure a day off, a short break in his otherwise constant motion. He'd been working tirelessly at the Ministry, doing his best to lay low as his own employers placed a target on his family's back. The war was in full swing. Hardly a day went by that he wasn't swamped by the news of terrible atrocities and tragic deaths, often of people he knew. They had to be cautious. Marcia and Tobias never left the safe house.

That day had been no exception, but it was their anniversary, and Klaus would be damned if he didn't spend it with his wife. It had been a quiet day. Domestic. Exactly what he'd needed. For once, he'd been able to relax and tune out the war raging all around them. He'd spent the day taking care of Toby and pampering Marcia, treating her to a simple homemade dinner in acknowledgement of their four years of marriage. He'd read to Toby until the boy had fallen asleep, and then he'd spent the rest of the night in bed with his wife, hoping for a day when this would all be commonplace instead of a luxury.

The first of January, 1999. Exactly one year later. Nothing whatsoever was the same.

Klaus had spent the day with a different sort of family. He supposed that was what they had become at this point. Though the four of them hardly fit the typical mold, they had established something of a normal routine, and it worked for them most of the time.

Everything revolved around Azalea. She had quickly become Klaus's top priority, especially as it seemed he was no longer expected to move out of Kit's house and find a way to provide for himself. All thoughts of house hunting had fallen to the wayside in the wake of the girl's arrival.

Through Azalea, he finally found a way to make himself useful. Though Kit and Clara had assumed the roles of "parents" - Kit in the more official sense, and Clara in behavior if not in title - Klaus had pitched in behind the scenes to pick up whatever slack remained. All three of them had, intentionally or not, become entirely invested in the girl's well-being.

From the moment she'd spoken her first words, Klaus realized he'd gotten attached. Though he was more physically distant than Kit and Clara, the news of that milestone had brought with it a genuine flash of joy, something he hadn't felt in many months. For once, the alcohol had been celebratory instead of consolatory, and he could almost forget for a moment what had brought him here.

As the months passed and Azalea grew more and more comfortable with all three of them, Klaus gladly contributed in whatever way he could to make her happy. Usually, he helped Clara with the less personal aspects of the job: cleaning dishes, doing laundry, picking up after the girl when she left the room. Though he genuinely liked Azalea - she was a good kid - a persistent paranoia overtook him at the thought of getting too close. The more attached he grew to her, the more he feared the thought of losing her, and the more convinced he was that something bad was bound to happen. So, while he was always kind when he interacted with the girl, he tried to limit such interactions when he could.

Sometimes he couldn't. Particularly when Kit abandoned his fatherhood role in favor of traveling about the country, leaving Clara and Klaus in charge of running the house. The first time he'd done it, Klaus had hoped it would be a one-time thing. Taking care of Azalea didn't bother him, but only so long as Kit didn't make it a habit to leave his new daughter behind every time a work opportunity popped up. He'd had his doubts about Kit's responsibility back in September, and though they had been assuaged for a time as Kit seemed to invest himself in the adoption process, they began to resurface as things settled down.

The thought occurred to Klaus that he still wasn't planning on staying with Kit forever. At some point, he would need to move out. Even if he had nothing currently in mind for the future, this situation was hardly sustainable, no matter how much money Kit had to spare. And when he left, would Kit step up and resume responsibility again?

More likely, it would fall to Clara. Already, she had taken the brunt of the less glamourous aspects of parenting, and Kit always trusted her with Azalea's welfare with nary a second thought. Klaus caught glances at her from the corner of his eye sometimes, wondering how she felt about all of this. She'd had a life, after all, before moving in. She'd had a home and a job of her own, both of which had been entirely disregarded for the past several months. It could hardly be fair to expect all of this from her when it hadn't been her choice to begin with.

The two of them had developed a certain kinship after living in close proximity for so long. They didn't speak often, but they didn't need to. Even without sharing their thoughts with each other, they seemed to have an understanding. Their silences were comfortable, and they'd gotten fairly good at reading each other's body language. Many times, Klaus would simply join her in whatever chore she'd undertaken and she would shift a little to give him room, neither of them saying a word as they worked together. The initial hostility in their relationship had just about disappeared.

So when she burst into his room the night Kit announced his second departure, Klaus was surprised, but not alarmed. He set his book down and listened while she ranted. Her tirade answered all his questions. He couldn't blame her for feeling angry, so he simply let her spill her feelings for as long as she needed to, offering quiet support. He let her stay when she was done, until she felt calm enough to return to her own room some time later. He wasn't planning to sleep that night anyway.

He'd been keeping his drinking at a minimum, trying his hardest to stop himself at socially appropriate doses for Azalea's sake. He only drank after she'd gone to bed, and even then he tried not to, though it was difficult. The alcohol kept the nightmares at bay. Without it, he slept fitfully, or not at all. However, he had found that if he went a night or two without sleeping, eventually he got so exhausted that when he did sleep, it was blissfully dreamless, so he kept himself awake some nights on purpose.

Usually, he'd find little ways to distract himself, to keep himself moving so his eyes wouldn't shut. Sometimes he slipped out of his room and busied himself with cleaning up, washing pots and pans, wiping down counters, and quietly scrubbing away at whatever surfaces looked like they could use it. Sometimes he simply retreated to the roof with a book or a puzzle or something to keep his mind occupied. It wasn't ideal, but it worked, and that was all he really cared about.

After one such night, Klaus sat in his room folding laundry and rubbing his tired eyes when Clara walked in to tell him Kit was embarking on his third vacation, this one even longer than the last. Too tired to object, or even to comment, he simply nodded when she asked him to take Azalea to school with her on Monday. In the back of his mind, a dull alarm went off. If Kit continued this trend, he would start leaving more and more frequently for longer periods of time, meaning Clara and Klaus would have to take care of Azalea while he was gone. He didn't object to the responsibility, but the thought of Kit bailing on his duties as a father worried him. Clara's rant back in December had been entirely correct, and it was still just as valid now, despite her calmer attitude.

He was too tired to talk to Kit before the photographer left, however, so he let it slide this time in favor of making sure he slept well Sunday night so he could be up early in the morning to take Azalea to school.

He smiled softly as the girl hugged him goodbye, a slight pang in his chest reminding him that his own child's birthday was approaching. He swallowed, watching Azalea join the other kids and trying not to compare her to his son, trying not to wonder what he would have been like at her age had he made it there. He fixed his attention on Clara as she spoke, allowing her words to drag him back to the present.

He glanced at the screaming child she pointed out to him and huffed in mild amusement at her comment. With some interest, he caught her comment about foster homes and filed it away for later consideration. She'd never shared much about her past with him, so the fact that she mentioned it now so casually got his attention. Still, now was not the time to ask. He simply collected the information without comment and acted as though he hadn't noticed.

"Perhaps it's Kit's influence," he suggested. "He never had trouble with people."

"Perhaps it's Kit's influence," he suggested. "He never had trouble with people."

The witch raised an eyebrow at him, not speaking out to contradict the man because, well, he was correct, but not quite ready to accept his theory yet either. While it was true that Kit had never had a problem with people, Clara also felt he was in the least favorable position when it came to understanding them. If Azzie was growing this way under his influence, she would need a lot more direction than her Godmother previously thought.

"Maybe it's your influence," she nudged him good naturadly. "Were you also the popular kid in school?" The question was in jest because it had somehow became easier to joke with him over the last few months. A by product of doing dishes together three nights out of seven. It hadn't taken the guys long to work out Clara had never cooked anything but meth in her life and was not about to start now. The wizard however was surprisingly handy with spices and fresh ingredients, or perhaps her and Kit's lack of skill simply made him seem that way.

"Or were you like that kid too?" She added, thankfully noting the redhead finally being dragged away by a harried looking teacher who gave everyone a general nod of apology. They along with the redhead's mom were the last adults to remain, making the other parent/guardian figure look embarrassingly on.

"Zara's a bit intense sometimes," she mumbled, sidling up to them in the universal fashion of explaining herself to strangers for fear of judgement. "She came out like that too, screaming and yelling and making everyone in the room take notice. You're Azalea's parents right? Gosh you guys are lucky you got a quiet one. I wish our daughters were friends so she could rub off on Zara more." Automatically, the woman who spoke in a strong German accent albeit in perfect American slang reached to rub her palm on the flannel corner of her shirt before extending it out to Clara and then Klaus to shake. The gesture was so familiar to the Seer, it screamed "mom". The witch now had nightmares of one day mimicking the same action too.

"I'm Sara, Staudt. My husband William is too cool to pick and drop his darling daughter,' she clarified affectionately, clearly lumping them in the same category as Sarah and William Staudt of Carmel.

"Is Azalea your first? Will's sworn off kids after this one but who knows right? Another little one to distract the first isn't a bad idea is it now?"

Clara shook the other woman's hand mutely, her entire body stiffening as the implication of the conversation caught up to her. Usually, she was better at spotting these moments coming, definitely getting better a staving them off until she was in a private space but being caught unaware this way, it was suddenly hard to breathe again which made no sense. They were outside, there was oxygen everywhere yet colorful dots were blooming in her vision, her pupils dilated as the woman kept on talking about having more kids.

When Sarah let go of her hand, it fell limply to the witch's side, leaving her stranded in a sea of uncertainty, her body trying to get her to breathe but her brain not understanding the message.

This was it.

She was going to pass out.

"We should do a play date sometime, God knows Will and I are dying to speak to other parents, makes us feel less of an island you know?"

________________________________________________

Come Plot With Me <3

Guest

He snorted softly at her teasing. "Depends who you ask. I had my moments."

He hadn't been unpopular in school, though there were certainly a fair number of people who hadn't liked him. He'd had a fairly average childhood, all things considered. He wasn't overly sociable, but he hadn't been a loner either. He had the ability to adapt and blend into most social groups if he wanted to, so he'd made a decent number of friends and friendly acquaintances in every house at Hogwarts. Hardly any that he still kept up with, though. And some of them were dead now.

He looked up as the screaming girl's mother sheepishly approached them. Klaus raised his eyebrows slightly as the woman felt the need to explain herself. He didn't think she had a reason to be embarrassed. She was hardly in control of her daughter's emotions.

Her accent stood out to him, the heavy German lilt reminding him somewhat of his own mother. The words she said, however, left him shifting uncomfortably as he searched for the proper response. Not that she let him get a word in edgewise as she rambled first about her own daughter, then about Azalea, then about her husband, then back to Azalea, asking questions all the while but leaving no room for answers.

Somewhat overwhelmed, he let the woman shake his hand briefly before glancing toward Clara for guidance.

Clara looked like she might faint.

Immediately, concern washed over him as he realized what was happening. By now, he had noticed that the mention of motherhood tended to send Clara into a panic. He didn't know why, nor did he intend to ask, but he could see the signs of an impending anxiety attack in the way her breathing picked up and her eyes glazed over, and he understood that something about Sarah Staudt's words had caused it.

A flash of annoyance shot through him as he realized the woman was still talking, oblivious to what she'd done.

"As lovely as that sounds," he finally snapped, sarcasm evident as he interrupted her before she could get another word out, "I'm afraid your daughter will have to take that up with Azalea. Even if we were her parents, which we're not, I think she's perfectly capable of deciding her own friends, thanks."

Sarah Staudt looked like she'd been slapped in the face, her mouth opening and closing silently as she finally shut up. Klaus ignored her, turning to Clara and placing a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "Clara?" he asked softly, studying her wide, dark eyes as they struggled to focus. His free hand moved to rest on her other shoulder, supporting the seer in case she lost her balance.

"Entschuldigung," he muttered with barely a glance toward the woman who was now watching them with a mixture of shock and confusion. "We have to go."

With that, he turned away from her, keeping a steady hand on Clara's back to guide her a little ways down the sidewalk, hoping to get her around the corner and away from prying eyes.

"Clara?"

In a sea of confusion, her name emerged as her anchor, attempting to uncloud the world and make her able to see again, to breathe again. She didn't move, but the sound of his voice was enough to make her draw a single breath, relieving the tightness that had been growing in her chest by a fraction.

She was Clara. She was not whatever this woman's version of a parent was, she was Clara and Klaus knew it. Even Azalea knew it.

The slight touch on her shoulder was her prompt to move, to put one foot in front of the other stiffly, with no direction save the guiding hand pressed softly to her back. At that moment, she didn't care where the man was leading her as long as he was taking her away from... all of this. The mommies and daddies, the kids, the play dates, the planning for future children, all of this was drilling painful holes in her skull and she would never be able to escape it because she had subjected herself to it willingly. Because the only other option was to let Azzie face this all alone and that was never happening.

Eventually, they made it to the car, the newly purchased minivan when all the adults at Harrington House realized that of the seven cars Kit owned, none had a back seat for a child. Overcompensating as usual, the photographer had hit the nearest showroom and purchased on the spot one that could now fit a dozen kids, probably expecting Clara to run soccer car pools. The idea made her go green anew.

And yet, if Azzie decided to play soccer, you bet your ass Clara would have to run those car pools.

"I... C-Can't drive," she finally managed to get out, leaning against the bulky hood of the minivan, still trying to focus on relearning to breathe again. "You.." she motioned, her hands still on the hood. The keys were in the back pocket of her jeans but the simple action of retrieving them was beyond her grasp at the moment. Instead, she simply managed "Keys" weakly before closing her eyes again to make the world stop spinning.

She needed to be far away from here, so far away, and she needed to be Clara again. But Clara was slowly disappearing, being erased bit by bit to give way to this mom personality that was required of her now. And with every little bit of her erased, the psychic grew closer and closer to the vision that had overtaken her a little over three years ago.

Hurtling towards the inevitable, knowing she was unable to stop it, did not lessen the pain any. She needed to be somewhere quiet, somewhere alone, somewhere removed from the here and now.

She needed a fucking stiff drink.

________________________________________________

Come Plot With Me <3

Guest

The two of them slowly made it back to the car, Klaus's hand never leaving Clara's back as he guided her away from the school. He didn't have much of a plan except to get her to a quiet place so she might calm down. When they reached the minivan, he let his hand drop away while she leaned on the car for support.

He managed to piece together what she was trying to tell him to do, and he hesitated for a moment as he glanced at the keys poking out of her back pocket. He didn't have a license. He had been able to drive in the UK, but the laws were different in America, and he'd never had the opportunity to learn them. Plus, it had been well over a year since he'd driven at all, considering magical modes of travel tended to be much faster and more convenient.

But Clara couldn't drive in the state she was in, and he knew she was opposed to apparition. He didn't have much choice.

Making up his mind, he snagged the keys from Clara's pocket and hoped he knew everything he needed to know from watching other people. He opened the passenger side door for her and helped her climb in before moving around the front of the car and sitting in the driver's seat.

He quickly scanned the dashboard, trying to adjust to looking at things from the left side of the car, then he found the ignition and placed the key, igniting the engine. So far so good. He could at least pretend he knew what he was doing. He buckled his seat belt and glanced over at Clara to see how she was faring.

He realized he didn't know where she wanted them to go. Back to Kit's had been the obvious assumption, but as he looked at her struggling to breathe properly, he got the feeling that the Harrington mansion would be little help. It was too big, too impersonal. Too much of a reminder of whatever Clara seemed to not want to think about.

So as he pulled the gear shift and eased off of the brake, he glanced up at the direction indicator on the rearview mirror and turned East, jerking to a start as he joined the traffic on the road. It was going to a be a long drive. He'd better not get pulled over.

He kept his eyes fixed squarely on the road, concentrating on flipping everything around in his head. Once he found the highway, they should be okay. So long as he remembered the map correctly.

After about ten minutes of careful driving, he realized he was in a turn lane and the car on his right wouldn't let him move over, so he turned left, narrowly avoiding an oncoming vehicle as he quickly reminded himself to stay on the right side of the yellow lines.

It took another ten minutes before he came across CA-68E and hastily cut over into the right lane, not bothering to figure out where his turn signal was. Someone honked.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered under his breath as he hit the gas, pulling onto the highway.

The first time he'd gone to Clara's house, he'd apparated to a place just outside the motel he'd stayed the night at after landing in Salinas. He'd flown in at around 2:00am, the cheapest flight he could find, and he hadn't felt like finding his way to Carmel so early in the morning, so he'd crashed at a Motel 6 before getting on a bus around noon.

In order to find where Clara lived in relation to that, Kit had lent him a map of the area. He still had it in his room somewhere. He sometimes studied it when he was bored. Theoretically, Clara's home was due northeast from here, but he'd need her help with the details.

"Let me know if things start to look familiar," he told her, hoping they were going in the right direction. If he was where he thought he was, they should just keep driving straight until they got to Salinas.

Clara remained dazed almost throughout the whole journey. The panic attack that had began encroaching on the edges of her mind made sure she didn't understand what was going on for the next hour. Even when Klaus opened the door for her to get in, the witch didn't understand, only taking the hint when he gently helped her climb aboard the stupid minivan. Once inside, the witch immediately drew her knees close to herself, hugging them tight for a kind of safety she couldn't even begin to justify.

In the periphery, she was aware they were moving. There were streets passing by in a blur but where they lead to or how fast Klaus were driving were all questions that would never be asked. At that exact moment, Clara couldn't have cared less if an ax murderer was abducting her to take her into the woods and chop her into little pieces. Being chopped up would at the very least make this strangling feeling in her chest stop. Her heart beat painfully with each and every breath, protesting her situation but the psychic had no choice but to soldier on, oblivious to the highway passing by.

Eventually, the panic gave way to humiliation, making her bury her face further into her knees as she wept quietly, feeling the bumps and dips in the road now that she was more aware of her surroundings. How could this happen every single time? Clara didn't have a clue about religion so the holiest thing she could swear by was her psychic ability and the witch would readily swear on it over how much the loved that kid they'd left behind as they made their escape in the speeding minivan. Clara would die and kill for the child and yet, every time the idea of being some kind of mother came up, it rendered her useless.

And she simply could not work out why? Maybe that was why she could never be a mom? Moms didn't fall apart at any given moment like this? They actually put their kids first. Sarah Fucking Staudt was a mom, she was a champion, tolerating a wailing brat with a smile on her face. Clara was just an ex junkie curled up in a car racing towards her old hood like some kind of security blanket.

"Let me know if things start to look familiar,"

Blearily, the dots connected in her head. he was indeed racing back to her old hood, the place she wanted to go to most. But she had neither conveyed this idea to the man beside her nor had she ever spoken of her home town that way to him... ever. How he'd just understood was beyond her right now and all her energies were focused on self loathing, leaving nothing to engage into the hows and whys of Klaus's driving intuition.

"Right, then left,' she muttered, laying her head on her knees once more, feeling the coolness of the wet patch her tears had created earlier on the denim. They were on the outskirts of Salinas, maybe ten minutes from her place. He could probably take it from here. "Stop by at Tinky's, she owes me some cash." Of course, Clara didn't tell him it wasn't cash she was after. Instead, the Seer wanted to get her hands on a bottle of tequila and some limes and scratch off all the free readings she'd done for the bar owner.

Yes, it was that kind of morning, the kind where Tequila was needed before nine.

________________________________________________

Come Plot With Me <3

Guest

As Klaus drove, he was vaguely aware of Clara crying in the seat next to him, but he couldn't do anything about it. He needed to pay attention the road and keep both hands on the wheel. His jaw clenched at the sound of her quiet sniffling - it seemed wrong somehow, Clara crying - but he resisted the urge to glance at her, forcing his eyes to remain straight ahead. If he crashed, it would only make things worse. His job was to get her somewhere safe and quiet.

He followed her instructions as they came, turning right when he reached the end of the highway, then left. Things were starting to look familiar to him now too. He remembered walking past some of these buildings the first time he'd gone to fetch Clara.

He nodded wordlessly at her request, keeping an eye out for Tinky's. When he spotted the sign for the small corner store, he swung sharply into the parking lot, bouncing over a pothole in the pavement. The lot was mostly empty, thankfully, so he was able to find a spot away from any other cars to pull into, parking crookedly and partially straddling the line. He didn't care enough to fix it, figuring they probably wouldn't be here long. He put the car in park and turned off the engine.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, finally turning to Clara. She looked like she had recovered somewhat, though her eyes were rimmed red from crying. At least she was breathing properly. He didn't know if she felt up to walking around by herself though.

He would have offered to go for her, but if she was collecting a debt, she'd need to do that herself. Besides, he knew she usually preferred doing things independently. If she wanted him to, he'd stay in the car, but he would feel restless as soon as she left his sight. Somewhere along the way, he'd grown protective of the seer.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

The short haired witch only realized they had come to a stop when he spoke, raising her head further from its refuge and taking in the parking space. They were at Tinky's alright, just the site of the old place was rushing like pure oxygen into her system. This was where she belonged, where she was from, who she was.

"It's okay, I got it,' she mumbled, straightening herself out and patting down her white and lavender tie dyed top over her jeans. Then, catching herself, reaching for the hem and twisting it this way and that to crumple it up again.

Creases had more character, and Clara Kent was not about smooth, flawless exteriors - no matter what else anyone wanted her to be.

Climbing out of the car in a few quick strides - and glad her legs had found the ability to function once more - she headed straight into the shop, completely ignoring the bored teenager at the cash register and making her way to the back room. To the bored teen's credit, she almost thought about stopping Clara, but realized that it wasn't worth ruining her drying nail polish.

"Tinky, I need you to come through for those readings I did last summer," she burst in through the door, only to find Tinky and her boyfriend in a very compromising position. Of what was available of the gentleman's face, he seem to resemble the same nose as the bored teenager outside.

"Oh Clara, can it wait a sec, love, I'm almost done."

"No, you can get on with this after, I need... I don't need money, just give me your best bottle of liquor and we'll call it even." Tinky grumbled slightly but rearranged her clothing, extricating herself from the gentleman with her long enough to yell out the orders to the cashier outside. The cashier yelled back saying she was painting her nails.

"Fuck's sake Tinky, tell me where it is and I'll get the damn thing myself."

Five minutes later, Clara was walking back to the car with a brown paper bag clutched to her chest containing two bottles of tequila and a few spare lemons she'd thought to add on the way out, grabbing them from the fresh produce section. This time, she sat properly in the car, hugging the brown bag to herself all the way home.

As Klaus put the van into parking, the vehicle clearly standing out among the rundown, second hand, scratched paint line up of cars that usually frequented the area, the seer sighed. "Had to get it on the eighth fucking floor," she mumbled almost to herself as she disembarked, getting ready for the long climb up to her apartment.

________________________________________________

Come Plot With Me <3

Guest

Klaus watched as Clara composed herself before slipping out of the car, on high alert for any sign that she might relapse into her earlier panic. She seemed relatively fine as he watched her disappear into the store, but he kept his eyes on the door until she reappeared about seven minutes later.

As she climbed back into the car, he cast a questioning glance at the brown paper bag she clutched closely to her chest, but didn't comment. Instead, he simply started the car again and backed out of the parking lot, returning to the road. Not long after that, he was pulling into Clara's neighborhood, pulling up along the curb and sending a silent thanks to empty air that he didn't have to parallel park.

He shut off the engine and got out of the car, closing and locking the door behind him. He glanced around at the surrounding cars, noting how the minivan would certainly be the prime candidate for theft among the vehicles in the area should anything occur. He shrugged to himself. There was nothing particularly valuable in the car as far as he knew, and if the van itself got stolen, Kit could probably buy another one without much hassle.

He held the door of the building open to let Clara through, then followed her up the stairs, ready to assist if she felt unsteady. He debated suggesting apparition, but he knew what her answer would be. Sidelong apparition especially was nauseating on a good day; he couldn't imagine it making anything better on a bad day. So the two of them slowly trudged up the sixteen flights of stairs, pausing to rest when necessary, but for the most part plugging through until they finally made it to her apartment, the silvery-blue sticker just where she had left it above the flat number several months prior.

They paused outside the door. "You wouldn't happen to have your key on you, would you?"

At her negative response, he tugged his wand from his pocket and approached the door, muttering an "Alohamora." The door swung open to reveal the flat just as it had been when they'd left it back in September, albeit with an added layer of dust.

» Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Prologue
» Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Abstract
» Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Keywords
» Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Hypothesis
» Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Methodology