Recovery lasted exactly three days.
Then Klaus got bored.
"This city feels disappointingly alive again," the hybrid complained dramatically while sprawled across Drake's couch like he personally paid rent there.
Rebekah threw a pillow directly at his face.
"Most people enjoy that."
Klaus caught it lazily without looking.
"Most people lack imagination."
Drake sat nearby sipping coffee while Ciri rested comfortably against his side reading an old leather-bound book she found somewhere in the compound.
Peaceful.
Mostly.
Though after accidentally resealing cosmic Gates, peaceful felt deeply suspicious now.
Elijah entered the room carrying two glasses of bourbon with the calm dignity of a man refusing to acknowledge that his extended family had recently survived eldritch apocalypse.
"There's still supernatural instability throughout the Quarter," he reported calmly.
"Residual dimensional damage," Drake answered automatically.
Everyone stared at him.
Drake blinked once.
"…I hate that I know that sentence naturally now."
Ciri snorted softly into her book.
Klaus leaned forward immediately.
"So."
His grin returned instantly.
"Ancient cosmic king of exiled horrors."
Drake closed his eyes briefly.
"Please never say that again."
"No promises."
Rebekah looked genuinely curious now though.
"What exactly were those things?"
Silence lingered briefly.
Then Drake answered carefully.
"The Forgotten existed before stable realities fully formed."
That immediately got everyone's full attention.
"They moved between dimensions naturally. Consumed unstable worlds. Adapted endlessly."
Klaus looked fascinated.
"And you led them."
Drake's expression darkened slightly.
"I guided them once."
"Difference?"
"Yes."
The single word carried enough weight to silence the room briefly.
Ciri looked up from her book quietly.
"You sealed them away because they changed."
Drake nodded slowly.
"They stopped seeing life as meaningful."
Fragments flickered behind his eyes again.
Dead universes.
Collapsed stars.
Entire civilizations erased casually during wars older than existence itself.
"They became hunger."
Silence followed.
Then softly—
"And I almost became the same thing."
Ciri squeezed his hand immediately.
"But you didn't."
Drake looked toward her.
And for the first time since the cemetery—
He actually believed that.
Maybe because of her.
Maybe because of this life.
Maybe because humanity changed him more deeply than cosmic instincts ever could.
Klaus watched the interaction carefully.
Thoughtfully.
Then surprisingly—
"You know," he said quietly, "for someone supposedly older than existence, you're remarkably human."
Drake laughed softly.
"That might genuinely be the nicest thing you've ever said."
"Don't tell anyone."
Naturally.
Suddenly—
The room temperature dropped sharply.
Black feathers drifted lazily through the air.
And every single person in the room immediately recognized who arrived before she even appeared.
Death manifested beside the window casually.
Klaus sighed dramatically.
"She really enjoys dramatic entrances."
"Yes," Death answered immediately.
The hybrid jumped slightly.
Rebekah burst out laughing.
Death ignored them entirely.
Her silver eyes focused solely on Drake.
Then unexpectedly—
She smiled warmly.
"I brought news."
Drake immediately looked suspicious.
"That sentence never ends well."
Death's smile widened faintly.
"The dimensional pathways stabilized after the Gates closed."
Ciri straightened immediately.
"You mean—"
"Yes," Death answered calmly.
"Travel between realities is possible again."
Silence filled the room.
Then Klaus looked genuinely horrified.
"…You're leaving already?"
Drake smirked faintly.
"You sound emotional."
"I am emotional."
Klaus stood dramatically.
"I just survived cosmic apocalypse bonding with you."
"That is unfortunately true," Elijah admitted.
Death looked faintly amused while Ciri tried unsuccessfully not to laugh.
But beneath the humor—
Drake noticed something else.
Something quieter.
Klaus genuinely meant it.
Interesting.
After another hour of conversation, arguments, and Klaus attempting unsuccessfully to convince Drake to stay in New Orleans permanently—
The night eventually settled.
The compound quieted.
Music drifted softly through distant halls while the city beyond remained alive beneath glowing lights and humid southern air.
Drake stood alone on one of the compound balconies overlooking New Orleans.
The city looked peaceful again.
Fragile.
Human.
Alive.
Footsteps approached quietly behind him.
Klaus.
Of course.
The hybrid leaned against the balcony railing beside him without speaking initially.
For once—
No smirk.
No performance.
Just silence.
Drake glanced sideways briefly.
"You're thinking too loudly."
Klaus snorted softly.
"A terrible habit apparently."
The city stretched below them in comfortable silence for several moments.
Then Klaus finally spoke.
"You know what the amusing part is?"
Drake raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I suspect you're going to tell me regardless."
Klaus ignored him.
"I spent a thousand years becoming something people fear."
His voice remained calm.
Matter-of-fact.
"Monster. Villain. Tyrant. Paranoid lunatic depending on who you ask."
"All accurate titles," Drake noted.
Klaus smirked faintly.
"Indeed."
Then the humor faded again.
"And every person who's ever claimed to understand me…"
His gaze drifted toward the city lights.
"…eventually feared me too."
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Because despite everything Klaus was—
Drake heard the truth beneath the words.
Loneliness.
Ancient and exhausting loneliness.
Drake leaned against the railing quietly.
"I understand."
Klaus laughed softly.
"No," he murmured.
"You understand too well."
That was probably true.
The Wanderer understood isolation intimately.
Ancient power separated people naturally.
Fear followed strength eventually.
Humanity became difficult to hold onto when the world treated you like a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Drake understood all of that now.
And somehow—
Klaus noticed immediately.
The hybrid studied him carefully.
"You're afraid people will start looking at you differently now."
Not a question.
Drake didn't answer immediately.
Because yes.
Part of him feared that deeply.
The Mikaelsons knew pieces of the truth now.
Death knew.
Morrigan knew.
And eventually—
Others would too.
The First Wanderer.
The being who sealed realities.
The king of the Forgotten.
How long before people stopped seeing Drake entirely?
Klaus exhaled quietly.
"For what it's worth…"
Drake glanced toward him.
"I don't fear you."
That surprised him slightly.
Klaus smirked faintly without humor.
"Oh, I know."
Silence stretched again.
Then quieter—
"You're the first person in centuries who looked at me and saw a man before a monster."
The honesty in that statement hit harder than Drake expected.
Because Klaus never admitted things like that.
Not truly.
Drake looked out over New Orleans thoughtfully.
"I think monsters are just people who stopped believing they could be anything else."
Klaus stared at him silently.
And for the first time in a very long time—
Someone understood him completely.
Not excused him.
Not worshipped him.
Not feared him.
Understood him.
The hybrid laughed quietly.
"Well."
He rubbed one hand across his jaw.
"That's disturbingly profound."
"I'm ancient. It happens occasionally."
Klaus smirked.
Then after a moment—
"What happens now?"
Drake already knew what he meant.
The Gates.
Other worlds.
The future.
Distance.
He leaned back against the railing casually.
"Ciri and I keep moving."
"Of course you do."
"But—"
Klaus looked toward him again.
And Drake's expression softened slightly.
"If you ever need me…"
The night air stilled faintly around them.
"Call out for me."
Klaus blinked once.
Drake's voice remained calm.
"Sincerely."
Ancient power flickered softly beneath the words.
Not threatening.
Promise.
"I'll hear you."
Silence.
Real silence.
Klaus stared at him for several long seconds.
Because immortals made many promises.
Very few made absolute ones.
And somehow—
Drake's promise felt cosmic.
Like reality itself acknowledged it.
The hybrid looked away first with a faint scoff.
"That might be the most terrifying reassurance anyone's ever given me."
Drake grinned slightly.
"You're welcome."
Klaus laughed softly then.
Real laughter.
Not cruel.
Not mocking.
Just genuine amusement.
Then finally—
Quietly—
"Thank you."
The words almost disappeared into the night.
But Drake heard them.
And he understood exactly how much it cost Klaus Mikaelson to say them aloud.
So he answered simply.
"Anytime."
Below them, New Orleans glowed peacefully beneath the night sky.
And for the first time in centuries—
Niklaus Mikaelson felt a little less alone.