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❛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘ. ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀɪᴅ 'ғᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ
'ᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ' sᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴅ, ᴘᴛ. 𝟸 ꒱


❝ I KNOW HE LOVES ME
AND THAT'S ENOUGH ❞

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[ the fourth year ]

I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day
I'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague

Going to prison hadn't been a part of Ben's scheme. He didn't think anyone planned on being incarcerated, but it had really put a wrench in things for him. His cryptocurrency enterprise had been made with two goals in mind. The first was to become rich enough that he'd have the resources to get his powers back. He didn't know what that would entail but if he wanted to hire scientists to figure it out, he'd need the funds. The second was because he needed power and means to find his missing sisters.

He would be the first to say that he didn't miss them; they were just missing. But they were his only remaining family (from his timeline, at least) and he didn't trust the moronic Umbrellas to get over their dysfunction enough to work as a team and find them. Besides, since they didn't have powers— or weren't even together— Sloane and Deianira could be in danger. It was still his role as Number One to make sure they stayed out of trouble.

Ben had lost sight of those goals, though, as the money came flooding in. He'd always been more than a little materialistic and it had felt good to have all that wealth. People were easy to fool, too. It had become almost a source of entertainment for him to see how many people he could swindle. Unfortunately, though, he hadn't made it far and the law caught up with him. Korea booted him out and sent him back to the States to serve time, which was where he was now.

Prison sucked— literally. It drained him of energy. It was boring, too. They had stupid group activities that he was forced to participate in (since he could get out earlier if he had good behavior.) He thought it would be more interesting to bounce a ball against the wall of his cell, like people did in cartoons.

They were currently putting together a play of some sort that he was the opposite of invested in. He slouched in his metal chair as the other inmates planned for the performance, his shoulders slumped, arms crossed and legs spread wide. He wasn't sure what was worse: being forced to be a bush in a drama or spending time with his reluctantly adopted siblings (he had a preference for the bush.)

One of the wardens entered the room and made his way over to the Asian man. "Hargreeves, there's a call for you."

"Thank god," he muttered, wasting no time in standing and following the other man. "Who is it?"

The superintendent scoffed. "I ain't your secretary. Some girl."

Against his will, a bit of hope sparked in his chest. He told himself that he didn't care if Sloane and Deianira found him— they'd made a hell of an attempt for how famous he was, after all— but still. . . He might forgive them if they could get him out of this godforsaken hellhole.

He sat down in the phone booth that the warden had indicated and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"'Ben!'"

He winced at the too-loud, cheerful voice that rang out from the receiver. He groaned, knowing exactly who it was (and felt disappointed, too— of course it wasn't his sisters. They didn't care about him. No one did.) "Alexa. What do you want? Is the world ending again?"

"'What? No, no— nothing like that,'" Alexa replied breathlessly. She was clearly trying to curb her enthusiasm, though he could picture her wiggling like an excitable puppy. "'I was just calling to see how you were!'"

"I'm in prison," he answered bluntly. "How do you think I am?"

There was a pause as she seemed to realize this. He could hear the embarrassment in her voice as she spoke again, "'Right. Of course, sorry. Um. . . what do you do in prison?'"

It was decided: he would rather be a bush in a dumb play than talk to any of the Umbrellas, especially this one. Alexa always made him uncomfortable; her blue eyes would follow him whenever he was in the room, as if she were drinking in his presence. She was so nice too— it was unnatural. There was always so much hope on her face when she spoke to him, as if his approval meant the world to her. If she hadn't been so in love with Five, he would've thought that she had something for him.

He grunted in response to her question. "I was actually in the middle of something when you called. Do you have anything important to say or. . .?"

"'Oh. Right— yes. Yes, there was something I wanted to tell you.'" She sounded flustered now and the eagerness had dimmed in her voice. He'd clearly disappointed her but he couldn't bring himself to care. "'I'm a few years late in telling you this, but I got a job in the CIA—'"

"So you're calling me to boast about how much better your life is than mine?" he asked dryly, completely done with the conversation. He didn't need to hear how much better of a stand-up citizen she was compared to him.

"'What? No! I wanted to tell you that I'm in a position to help find people now, Ben. That's part of the reason why I wanted the job in the first place. I'm gonna help you and Luther look for Sloane and Deianira. I'm calling it 'The Case of the Missing Hargreeves.'"

Ben scoffed; he had no faith that dumb and dumber would be able to find his sisters before he did. "That makes you sound like Nancy fucking Drew," he told her contemptuously. "But have fun playing detective. Once I get out of here the real work can begin, and I'm doing it alone. I don't need your help. Oh— and by the way, stop sending me Christmas cards. I just throw them in the trash anyway."

He hung up, forcefully slamming the phone onto the cradle. The warden was leaning against the doorframe as he hung up and the man lifted a brow derisively. "Call went well then, I take it?"

"I thought you weren't my fucking secretary," he snarked in reply. "Take me back to the play."

☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎

[ the third year ]

You know you're good when you can even do it
With a broken heart

Viktor was neutral about the new timeline. Compared to his siblings, he'd lived the longest without powers. When he had found out that he possessed them, he'd ended the world. Then, he'd ended it again. He had been a contributing factor to the end of the world a third time, though his powers hadn't been the direct cause. Now, without them, there were some perks. He could listen to music without worrying about losing control. He didn't have as many nightmares about the destruction he'd caused. A long, sustained pitch didn't cause him to cover his ears to prevent the sound from resonating within him.

Of course, there were downsides, too. Allison's betrayal had hurt. He'd lost Sissy for good; she wasn't in any history books that he'd found. He had to restart his life from scratch and couldn't— didn't want to— rely on music as a means of supporting himself. After everything that had happened, he needed a breather from his past. That had included his old passions, his siblings and the city he'd grown up (and suffered) in. So, he hightailed it out of there as soon as he could afford the bus trip.

He'd landed in Nova Scotia, Canada. The cold, snowy, rural atmosphere was about as far as he could get from his old life. Rent was cheap, which was good. He bought a small, one-bedroom cottage that backed up against a thicket of woods. He got a job at a bar and found that he liked the work. Viktor liked getting to know the customers, who had no idea of his past. The treated him like an ordinary person but in the best way possible. There was no comparison or competing with his super-powered siblings. He made friends with the regulars that came in and talked to them during his shifts to make the time go by faster.

The other benefit of working late nights at a bar is that was when single women came trickling in. He discovered that he enjoyed flirting with them. The best way to get a number was through 'free drinks, on the house' even though it came out of his paycheck. That was how he got his first girlfriend (and second, and third.) It was a learning curve being in a healthy relationship.

After dating a serial killer and a married woman, he didn't have much romantic experience. Sometimes the girls he was with were patient and understanding, but it was always up to a point. He'd learned the hard way that that point was usually when he accidentally uttered Sissy's name in their presence, whether it was when he thought of her blonde curls while they were making out or their first night together when he was making love to someone else. As it turned out, women didn't like it when you were thinking of other women (even though they were dead) while you were with them.

He was currently single but it was for the best— he'd needed to focus on working hard to save up money so he could buy the bar where he was employed. The old owner was an aging man named Jerry who'd wanted to retire and, after seeing Viktor's potential, had offered it to him. They'd come to an agreement— which included some renovations— and the deal was set. Now it was opening night under his new management and rebranded establishment (Vik's.)

As he double-checked that everything was in order, he couldn't help but glance at the door. It had sort of been against his wishes, but Jerry had encouraged him to at least invite some of his family to take part in his accomplishment. So, he'd invited his two siblings who were the most competent (and who he didn't have a grudge against): Alexa and Five. His sister had been thrilled to be included and had eagerly agreed to come.

The door swung open at exactly six o'clock, allowing a chilly gust of air to sweep through the restaurant. With it came his siblings' voices, Five's irritated tone easily distinguishable. "Lexa, I told you six was too early to come! No one comes to opening night right on the dot. We're going to look like idiots who had nothing better to do with their day—"

Alexa stomped her snowy boots on the doormat. "Oh, relax, old man. It's Vik's opening night! I don't want to miss a second of it! In fact, we're. . ." She reached over to grab her boyfriend's wrist, pushed his sleeve up to reveal his watch and checked the time. "Five, six, seven seconds late!"

Five pulled his arm out of her grasp, though much more gently than if he'd really been annoyed. "Well, we're here now. Hopefully he's available enough to entertain us or it's going to be a very boring three hours."

Just as the blonde opened her mouth to make a retort, she must've caught her brother's movement for her gaze snapped in Viktor's direction. She beamed at him and raced over to the brunet, forgetting about the snow that still clung to the soles of her boots. "Vik!"

He only had a second's notice to catch his sister as she threw her arms around him. Viktor hugged her tightly in response, burying his face in her blonde hair and finding comfort there. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his siblings. "It's good to see you, Lexi."

"You too!" Her voice was muffled from where it was pressed against his shoulder. "Congrats, Vik. I'm really proud of you!"

They pulled apart and he smiled modestly. "It's only a reopening, Lexi. It's not much."

Alexa gave him a surprisingly stern look. "Stop downplaying your accomplishments, Viktor Hargreeves. You're the only one of us to start their own business! That's a pretty big deal."

"She's right," Five agreed, coming over to stand next to his girlfriend, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Congratulations, Viktor. I'm sure it will be a success."

Viktor felt his face heat up, still not used to receiving the attention that his siblings had grown up with, especially from Five of all people. He was well known for being a hard-ass, even when they were kids. Viktor was pretty sure the only person he'd ever complimented was Alexa. Since he hadn't seen his siblings in a long time, it was easy to note their changes, Five's being most obvious. Ever since he'd come back from the apocalypse the first time, he'd been uptight and stressed, high-strung and short-tempered. Now, though, his shoulders were relaxed, even in his natural old-man hunch. His features were softer, including his trademark glare. And, when he glanced at Alexa (which he did often; Viktor thought it might even be a subconscious thing now), he looked like a different, gentler person altogether.

His sister rolled her eyes and gave Five a little push. "Stop being so formal, Fi. This is our brother, for Christs' sake. You can give him a hug. I know you want to."

To the brunet's surprise, Five's ears flushed red as he glared half-heartedly at the girl. "Lexa, we talked about you forcing me into situations I'm not comfortable with. This is one of them."

She smiled at him guiltily and opened her mouth to apologize, but Viktor beat her to it. "It's okay, you don't have to hug me. How about a handshake instead?" He offered his hand to the physically-younger man.

Five nodded, appeased, and gave him a firm handshake. But, they were brothers. They'd never really had the chance to have a proper relationship, but that was their bond. So, Viktor decided that he had to do the brotherly thing: using his grip on the other man's hand, he yanked Five closer to him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders in a reluctant hug. Five let out a noise of protest as their bodies crashed clumsily together while Alexa giggled at the interaction, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth at the two men she loved (though in different ways, of course.)

"Vik— Viktor! Let me go—" the man objected all the while until his brother finally let up. He straightened his suit with a dignified huff, now glaring in full-force at his girlfriend. "You set me up."

"Did I?" she asked, adopting an innocent expression.

His own features hardened and he went over to her side, bending down slightly so that his lips brushed her ear: "you will be paying for that later."

Although Viktor didn't hear his brother's whispered words, he watched as a faint blush and rather pleased look crossed over the blonde's face. He smiled, though he was quite certain he didn't want to know what that had been about. "So, you two are still going strong, then? Maybe you could give me some relationship advice. . ." 

☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎

[ the fourth year ]

I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art

While it would never be her first choice for a job, Alexa adapted well to her CIA position. With Five's help, she was able to prove herself capable in several low-risk missions that gave her a name within the organization. Her coworkers began to see her as someone with potential, rather than just a warm, feminine body in a workplace of men (there was still some of that since it would never go away, but it was more subtle now.) She remained good friends with Derek, taking him along for the ride (even if he complained about it sometimes.) He worked as her assistant since he'd said himself that he wasn't cut out for the stress of field work.

They often had lunch together and gossiped about their colleagues ("Did you hear about Henry and Michael getting caught in the janitor's closet? They swear they were just looking for a key to their file system, but I have my doubts.. . .' 'No? Really?!') or caught up on their normal lives outside of work.

"So, I'm going to be babysitting my nieces and nephew this weekend," Alexa was saying over their mid-afternoon meal. "I can't wait; they're so cute! I wish Five would stay and bond with them but he always says he's not good with kids, which is total BS. I've seen him with them and he's great. He just needs more practice."

Derek looked up from cutting his chicken in time to see a wistful look cross over the blonde's face. She spoke of her boyfriend often and he knew they'd been together for years; she'd even told him about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypses. "How long have you two been dating now? Five years? Do you think you're ever going to tie the knot?"

"Almost eleven years, actually, if you count when we were just kissing," she replied, sighing as she pushed her noodles around in the sauce in her bowl without eating them. "And I don't know. He's mentioned it once, during the third apocalypse, but never since then. It's okay; we don't need to get married. We've been through too much to let a little thing like that break us. I know he loves me and that's enough."

But he knew her well enough to detect the longing in her voice. "But you want to get married to him. So why don't you propose? Break social norms and all that?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't!" she exclaimed instantly, blushing hotly at the thought. But then she considered it. "Well, I did ask him out instead of it being the other way around, so maybe. He's kind of emotionally constipated, but he's been doing a lot better. I just thought. . . it might've given him the courage to act. Even if we do get married, I doubt he'll want kids. But that's okay since I'll have my niblings."

--

Alexa's efforts had paid off. After almost four years in the CIA, she was finally meeting the Director of her division, Lance Ribbons. Her stomach had been tied in nerves all morning; the head boss only met with employees if they showed real potential. Dressed in her best work suit, she arrived promptly at the appointed time and knocked on the door. After being welcomed with a professional 'come in,' she entered the office.

The dark-skinned man gestured to the seat on the other side of his desk. "Miss Hargreeves, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. I've heard much about your work with the Project Blackbird case and I must say, I'm impressed."

She smiled, flattered by the compliment as she took the offered chair. "Thank you, Director, but I couldn't have done it alone. Derek was instrumental in keeping me organized and I couldn't have brainstormed without the rest of the team."

He nodded approvingly. "Modest, I like it. You've got heart, Miss Hargreeves. People are drawn to your kindness. We could use that sort of trait to get leverage. You have the makings of someone who could become a great asset to our organization." He leaned forward, folding his arms on the desktop. "How would you like to start taking on more difficult cases? Really make a name for yourself here?"

--

At the end of their hour-long meeting, Alexa felt a flush of pride at being recognized. While she refused to use her natural warmth as a means to hurt people, she figured she could find a way around that if it meant getting the necessary means to find her missing family members. She stood from her seat and offered her hand. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Director. I'm looking forward to the next challenge."

She didn't know if she was imagining it or not, but Lance seemed to hesitate before he shook her hand. His grip was warm and firm as they shook once. But, the motion made something else happen: his sleeve rode up slightly on his arm, revealing some of his wrist. She glanced down as her eyes caught the movement. There, on his supposed-to-be-bare skin, was dark, black ink. She could see the bottom curve of a circle and an upside-down J. The Director released her hand and shook his sleeve back over his wrist, but she had seen it.

She would know that tattoo anywhere.

It was the same one that had refused to be inked into her skin back when she'd been invulnerable.

Alexa had been staring at it on her siblings' wrists all her life.

An umbrella.

☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎

You know you're good, I'm good
'Cause I'm miserable
And nobody even knows

Lila wasn't so sure that she was cut out for motherhood. It was a little late to be finding this out now, but three kids under the age of five would make anyone realize that. Don't get her wrong: she loved her children more than life itself (not that she'd tell Diego— he'd throw a fit that she loved them more than him.) But sometimes the days felt like her own, personal hell. The constant screaming, crying and liquids that got on her never seemed to end. Being a mom was a far cry from the badass, time-travelling assassin she had once been.

The one benefit (besides the actual children, of course) was that she got to know her sisters-in-law better. Allison had begun to come over often once the twins were born, bringing Claire with her so she and Grace could play. Alexa helped out a lot, too, though never when Allison was there. Lila saw the pattern; her blonde sister would always ask whether she was expecting any guests, while the third Hargreeves insisted that Claire liked it better when there were less adults around. She didn't quite know what the rift was between the two women but she was intent on finding out— it was about the most exciting thing in her life right now (and wasn't that depressing?)

Unfortunately, they were both quite good at stonewalling her. She got along with Allison the best; they could both be a little crazy if Allison was in the mood. They talked about their husbands, their children and the rest of the family, but the dark-skinned woman almost never mentioned Alexa.

And, speaking of the blonde, Lila found that she was a hard nut to crack. They were about as opposite as you could get; the eighth Hargreeves was calm, collected and seemed to have every aspect of her life together. Five hadn't proposed to her, so they couldn't bond over their husbands. She didn't have children. She hadn't been an assassin (quite the opposite, really.) They pretty much had no common ground. But, as an expert in her field, Lila wasn't easily deterred. She thought that maybe getting the two sisters together with her as moderator might do the trick.

"Hey, my sister-from-another-mister," Lila said, the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she bounced Coco in her arms. "Are you free this weekend? Diego's got the kids so I thought we might have a girls' night out!"

"'Hi, Lila,'" came Alexa's warm greeting. "'What do you mean by 'girls?' Who's coming?''

"Damn, I thought I could pull a fast one on you. No wonder you're in the CIA," she complained, tugging her hair out of her daughter's grasp. "I was kinda hoping you'd agree, no questions asked."

"'It's a necessary question,'" the blonde informed her. "'So, who is it?'" Coco made a burbling noise into the receiver. "'Hi, Coco! This is your Auntie Al!"

"But why is it a necessary question?" Lila asked. "And how'd you know it was Coco?"

Alexa huffed a faint laugh. "'Because Grace can make full sentences and Ronnie is better at raspberries than anything resembling words. And it's necessary because Allison and I don't get along. It's better for everyone if we don't get together.'"

"How do you know my own kids better than me?" she wondered jokingly, then theorized, "it's the lack of sleep; I'm not thinking straight. Fine, fine, I won't invite her; we definitely don't want another Hargreeves Family Reunion to cause the end of the world, which is usually what happens at your parties. So, what do you say? Drinks and a fun night out, just the two of us?"

"'You better not pretend like you're not inviting Allison, then set us up. Otherwise I won't come at all,'" Alexa told her sternly. "'But if it's really just the two of us, I'm in.'"

"I would never dream of it, sister-mine," Lila replied, discarding the exact idea that had come to mind. Normally she would've done it anyway, but the situation seemed more serious than petty sibling rivalry.

--

It took a couple of drinks for Alexa to loosen up, but not about her whole situation with Allison as Lila had been hoping. Instead, they were talking about their families and Lila felt comfortable enough to tell the blonde her feelings about motherhood.

"I would never trade my children for anything," she said firmly. "Anything!" She slapped her hand down on the bar top to make her point. "But sometimes I could just. . . ugh! At least with Stan— At least with Stan, that had been funny, and he was old enough to take care of himself. But I swear, if I have to change one more dirty diaper, I'm gonna make Coco do it herself."

Alexa giggled, more of a lightweight than Lila was. "Coocoo— sorry, Coco doesn't have the motor skills for that!" Her amusement dulled as her eyes became a bit misty. "I wish we could trade lives— like Five and I have the kids, you have my CIA job. I love dirty diapers." She flushed. "I mean, changing them! Or, y'know, childcare."

Lila chuckled at the slip-up. "I've almost forgotten what going on a mission is like. What I wouldn't give to kill someone again."

The blonde made a face. "Nasty. I'd rather deal with poop than blood. I don't like hurting people."

"You've got a soft heart," Lila commented, reaching over to poke the left side of Alexa's chest with her pointer finger. "It's all mushy, like pudding. Or Jello! Hey, do you wanna do Jello shots later?"

"Yeah!" Then, she frowned. "But Five will be mad at me if I come home drunk. Maybe not."

The brunette scoffed. "Let him take care of you for a change. You're always looking out for him."

"Because I love him!" Alexa insisted stubbornly. "You gotta look out for the people you love, which is why I joined the SYA— oops, CIA. But. . . I don't like it," she admitted, her tone quieting so that Lila had to strain to hear her over the noise of the bar. "It's hard. There's sooooo much thinking. And-and doing things off the books. . ."

That caught Lila's attention. "Off the books? What are you working on?"

The question seemed to sober the other woman up a little. Her blue eyes became sharper as she assessed the brunette. "Hey. . ." she said, as if coming to a realization. "You were an agent. You did undercover missions. You have skills! Maybe. . ."

Lila glanced around at the other patrons of the restaurant. If Alexa did have something up her sleeve that the CIA didn't know about, they shouldn't discuss it here. Flagging down the bartender to pay for their drinks, she suggested, "why don't we go home? We can talk about your idea there."

--

"It's like some freakin' Agents of Shield episode," Alexa said after she'd finished explaining everything, a glass of water held between her hands, "except it's happening to me, and it's not HYDRA but-but umbrellas. I don't know what they call themselves. . . Derek's been helping me, but we haven't made much progress since everything has to be on the down low." She looked up to meet Lila's gaze. "Even though I went on missions as a kid, none of them were undercover. I totally get it if you don't want to put yourself at risk, but as someone who's in no way affiliated with the CIA, you'd have the liberty to attend these meetings. Would. . . would you want to work with me on this?"

It wasn't exactly the night of bonding she'd planned but in a way, it was almost better. This was a side of her sister-in-law that she hadn't seen before: uncertain, lost and stuck. Lila's eyes lit up and she unhesitatingly answered: "yes!"   

A/n: since they never gave Diego and Lila's son a name, it's my HC that they named him after Lila's father, Ronnie (Gill) since Grace is named after Diego's mom (this was before I knew her parents would be alive, but since they're not in this book, I can keep my HC.)