Klaus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wholeworldoutthere) wrote2012-09-28 11:15 pm
wholeworldoutthere) wrote2012-09-28 11:15 pm
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Sunday -
It's a good half hour after everything has stopped that Klaus hears about it. He's still slightly limping from a run-in with one of these wretched dogs whose minds were so far from wolves he could do nothing with them, and Caroline finds him. He's so glad to see her unharmed, and in one piece, that limp or not, he hurries over and kisses her with that joy.
It's only when he pulls back that he notices the shadow in her eyes.
She tells him, and it feels as if his blood is icing over. It's nothing to the death of Finn, but it's still more than he is willing to accept. She wants to comfort him, but he wants to be alone with his grief for now and he tears away without a word, except she insists and he has to hiss at her to leave him alone to be able to get away.
He gets alcohol from the first replicator he finds, and he spends a good hour or two sitting alone in the observation deck, without touching the bottle of alien liquor. He just stares at the universe and does nothing, just feels.
Eventually he gets back on his feet and makes it to the infirmary, glad to find it empty of any breathing creature. There's only Amy's body, laid out in her clothes, with a bloody rip of fabric over her stomach.
"If he ever shows up, I'm beating the living hell out of him, love," he tells her, and means her Doctor, whichever iteration of the man. If her husband shows up, he's more likely to get him drunk. But for now, he uncorks the bottle and raises it to her. "Here's to you, Amy Pond. You were just my kind of barmy."
He takes a long drink, and then he turns to go. He stops in the doorframe for just a second, just long enough to whisper, "I'm sorry," barely audible at all, before he walks off.
It's a good half hour after everything has stopped that Klaus hears about it. He's still slightly limping from a run-in with one of these wretched dogs whose minds were so far from wolves he could do nothing with them, and Caroline finds him. He's so glad to see her unharmed, and in one piece, that limp or not, he hurries over and kisses her with that joy.
It's only when he pulls back that he notices the shadow in her eyes.
She tells him, and it feels as if his blood is icing over. It's nothing to the death of Finn, but it's still more than he is willing to accept. She wants to comfort him, but he wants to be alone with his grief for now and he tears away without a word, except she insists and he has to hiss at her to leave him alone to be able to get away.
He gets alcohol from the first replicator he finds, and he spends a good hour or two sitting alone in the observation deck, without touching the bottle of alien liquor. He just stares at the universe and does nothing, just feels.
Eventually he gets back on his feet and makes it to the infirmary, glad to find it empty of any breathing creature. There's only Amy's body, laid out in her clothes, with a bloody rip of fabric over her stomach.
"If he ever shows up, I'm beating the living hell out of him, love," he tells her, and means her Doctor, whichever iteration of the man. If her husband shows up, he's more likely to get him drunk. But for now, he uncorks the bottle and raises it to her. "Here's to you, Amy Pond. You were just my kind of barmy."
He takes a long drink, and then he turns to go. He stops in the doorframe for just a second, just long enough to whisper, "I'm sorry," barely audible at all, before he walks off.