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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ❜    ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ᴡɪʟʟ
ʙᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ꒱


❝ JUST HOLD ME IN YOUR ARMS
AND LET THIS MOMENT LINGER
/ THEY'LL TAKE ME OUT AT DAWN
AND I WILL DIE/ WITH ALL MY LOVE,
I PLACE THIS WEDDING RING ON
YOUR FINGER / THERE WON'T BE
TIME TO SHARE OUR LOVE SO WE
MUST SAY GOODBYE  ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

With a heavy heart, Five knew what to expect when Dolores pulled him off to the side after their family dinner. It was written all over her face, with its guilt-laden apology and deep-set longing. He sighed, his eyes drinking in every detail of her features since he didn't know when he'd see her next. "You can't stay, can you?"

She shook her head, her eyes filling with regret. "I'm. . . I'm sorry. I would stay if I could. I-I know it was cruel and selfish of me to appear before you, only to be ripped away hours later, but I. . . I had to see you again, before the end. I didn't want to leave with things the way they were. That's not us. I know it isn't. I love you, Five, more than anything. No matter where we stood, I always loved you. I know I didn't get much of a choice with who I got stuck with in the apocalypse, but I'm glad it was you. I probably would've chosen you no matter what." She paused, then admitted, "well, maybe not at first, but after I was able to see past what an arrogant prick you were, then I would."

He let out a soft huff of laughter, his throat closing up too tightly for a proper response. Her words sounded terribly, horribly, like a permanent goodbye. Dolores swallowed past the growing lump in her throat, then pushed on. "But the only reason why I am leaving is to give us a fighting chance. I know you understand that. It's just. . . I don't think I'll be able to come back. None of us will. No matter how this ends, this is the last iteration of this timeline, with us as ourselves in it. This deal I'm making. . . well, something had to give; it's a negotiation, after all. In exchange for the happy ending we deserve, I bargained that we'd have no memories of our past lives. It. . . it was the only way."

"It doesn't matter," Five murmured lowly, unable to speak much louder, but it didn't detract from the fierceness in his voice. "I've already found you once without memories; I know we'll find each other again. We're meant to be in any and every timeline."

If it were any other situation, Dolores would've poked fun at her husband for speaking so optimistically. It was odd hearing someone so logical say something like that, but in a way, it was logical: he'd seen proof of it himself in the little cottage and at the end of the world and all of the wastelands of time in between.

The brunette gave him a wavering smile, reaching up to brush her fingers against his cheek, as if memorizing the shape of his face. "For once you're the romantic one of us. It really must be the end of the world, huh?"

"I can be romantic," he insisted.

Without giving her a chance to question his retort, he reached up to his neck and pulled the chain out from underneath his shirt. Unclasping it, he slid both rings off and stowed the necklace in one of his pockets since he wouldn't need it anymore. Although he didn't know if items could transcend the boundaries of life and death, this ring had always been Dolores.' He caught her hand and brought it in front of him, sliding the band back on its proper finger. It was still a little loose since they were both younger than when they'd gotten them resized at the Commission, but he knew it would stay. He slid his own ring back on his finger. "I think it's time we both start wearing these again. And, for the record, I love you, too."

Dolores looked down at her hand, gazing at the familiar ring, her fingers trembling as they brushed over the worn metal. It felt like coming home, even as she stood on the brink of leaving it forever. The ring had been the one thing that had bound them, even when the rest of the world was tearing them apart. She met his eyes, unable to hold back her tears as they finally slipped free. She grasped his hands tightly in hers as she managed to breath out, "thank you, Five. For everything. No matter what happens. . . I'll always be yours."

He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him while his other hand— the one with the ring, whose cool metal she felt press against her skin— cupped her face and brushed her tears away. His lips met hers softly, nothing like the passionate kisses from earlier; this was gentle, filled with a tenderness that held years of unspoken love and finality. It was a goodbye, even if neither of them wanted to admit it. Five's lips lingered on hers for a moment longer, savoring the feeling, branding it into his memory. When they finally pulled apart, he kept his forehead pressed against hers as he promised, "you're my end and my beginning. Even if it takes a thousand timelines, I'll find you."

She sniffled and, with an awful start, he realized that he could already feel her fading as she became less substantial in his arms. She gave him a final brave, watery smile and he heard her say faintly, "tell Klaus I said thank you," before he was left staring at the wall of Diego and Lila's house, alone.

Five didn't move, rooted in place as the silence enveloped him. The world blurred around him, his mind slow to accept that she was gone. Truly, finally gone. He wanted to scream, to tear apart the very fabric of reality to bring her back. But instead, he just stood there, a quiet, hollow ache echoing in his chest.

He didn't hear Diego's footsteps approaching, nor the door creak open. Diego paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of his brother, still and silent, with eyes fixed blankly at the wall. It was a strange, unrecognizable expression on Five's face— one he had never seen. He didn't speak at first, instinctively sensing something he rarely saw in his brother: vulnerability.

When Diego finally stepped forward, he didn't address it directly. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest. "Man, you look worse than when you got here. She really did a number on you, huh?" he said, forcing a light-hearted smirk onto his face.

Five didn't respond, didn't move, but Diego noticed the faint, wet track of tears on his brother's face— the silent, painful proof of what he'd just lost. In that fleeting moment, Diego realized the depth of Five's anguish, the scope of his grief. And with an odd pang of his own, he recognized that this was probably the first time he'd ever seen Five cry. Quietly, unobtrusively, Diego averted his gaze, pretending not to notice as Five hastily wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

He cleared the air as best as he knew how: with less grace and empathy than a bull in a China shop. He came closer and gave his brother a solid clap on the shoulder, hard enough to jerk him in his current state. "C'mon. Ben and Jennifer are on the news; we've got a world to save."

✧ ✧ ✧

Five was unwillingly scrunched in the backseat with Klaus, having been shoved out of the better positions due to his lack of interest in fighting for them. He sat hunched over, his hands clasped together between his legs as he spun the ring on his finger. His eyes stared sightlessly ahead, replaying his final conversation with his wife. This was it. She'd always had a propensity for coming back to life and it was hard to believe that she wouldn't this time. That was a hope he'd held on to until now, he realized. He had kept expecting her to pop up behind him with a teasing smile, her blue eyes glinting with mischief, greeting him with 'you really thought I could stay dead?'

But he wasn't getting that this time. He would never see her again. He wouldn't even have the memories to think about her, not until they met in whatever life awaited for them after her deal. (The one shred of hope he did hold onto was the fact that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, they would see each other again.) He felt Klaus nudge him, but he ignored the annoyance and continued his blank staring. Then, his brother poked him repeatedly on the arm. He ignored that, too. It was only when the fourth Hargreeves smacked him upside the head that he finally gathered the motivation to glare at his brother. "What?"

"So, she's really gone this time, huh?" he mused, playing with one of his necklaces. Now that he no longer feared a permanent death, his style had become a mix of his germophobic era and traditional dress. He wore one of his sweater vests, but had nothing on underneath it and had several necklaces layered on top. "I just can't make 'em stay. First it was Ben— the real Ben— and now it's our Jellybean. Do you think it's a me problem?" he asked seriously. He paused to think about it for a second, then waved an airy hand. "Nah. I just gotta start picking ghosts without better things to do than hang around us all day." Attempting carelessness to try and show the answer didn't matter much to him (and failing), he added, "did she. . . say anything about me before she left?"

Five swallowed as he remembered her last words. "She said. . . to thank you. She was grateful that you gave her a chance to say a proper goodbye this time since we didn't get to have that. And. . . she wanted to tell you that she was proud of how hard you worked to resist falling into old habits. She knows that you'll be able to keep fighting even though she's not here to support you." He embellished, of course, but it was easier to use his wife as a mouthpiece than to claim that those sentiments were all the things he actually wanted to say. Besides, he knew that Dolores felt them, too.

Klaus batted his eyes and framed his chin with his hands. "She said all that about little 'ole me?"

The brunet rolled his eyes as he answered, "believe it or not, yes. She thought you were worth the sentiment."

His brother grinned, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that told Five he wasn't entirely fooled. He leaned back, still playing with his jewelry. "Well, Jellybean always did have questionable taste," he replied. "Especially considering she married you."

Five gave him an echo of his sarcastic smile, though it lacked its usual acerbity. Before he could come up with a half-hearted attempt at a biting retort, their attention was drawn outside of the car to the mob of people that had gathered outside of the department store that had been featured on the news. Diego screeched the van to a halt some distance away and eyed the crowd warily.

Allison hit him on the shoulder to get him out of his stupor. "Quick, back down that alley so we're out of sight."

He made to do what she suggested, but his poor car had been so abused that nothing quite worked right. Instead of backing up like he'd meant to do, Wanda started to roll forward, towards the group of armed people.

"Back up, you idiot!" Five snapped.

"I'm trying!" Diego exclaimed, maneuvering the stick shift to the right gear. It resisted his attempts and broke under his strength. In his frustration, he slammed a hand down on the dashboard, prompting Baby Shark to burst into life. (Five felt his heart sink at the fact that it wasn't Dolores— just another sign that his wife wasn't coming back.) "Come on, you piece of shit."

Of course, both of these unfortunate circumstances drew the attention of the crowd as the van barreled towards them, heedless of Diego stomping on the brakes. Klaus leaned forward, his eyes wide as he was unable to look away from the impending disaster. "Come on, man! You're
gonna get us killed!"

Allison was the one to think of a solution and she pulled sharply up on the emergency brake. The car screeched to a halt amidst the siblings' shouts. Diego struggled to reignite the ignition as the others turned to face the mob, who were slowly raising their weapons. Luther gave them an uncomfortable smile and waved awkwardly. "Hey."

Gene grunted and lifted his gun to point right at the Hargreeves. "For the love of God, shoot 'em."

They ducked as bullets sprayed the windows, shattering the glass in seconds (much to Diego's indignation.) They scrambled out the other side, using the car as a shield, though it wouldn't last long. Five glared at his brother for his poor decision making. "Maybe you shouldn't have cheaped out on the brakes."

"To be fair," Luther allowed, "new ceramic pads on a vehicle this old is not a good investment."

Although he had his hands covering his ears, apparently Klaus could still hear their unrelated conversation and scolded them, "stop yapping and start doing!"

"Like what? There's too many of them!" Allison insisted.

Klaus grabbed onto his brother's arm to get his attention. "Five, do the blinky and get us into the store."

"That doesn't work anymore," he retorted.

"You gotta try, Five," Lila demanded.

Five whipped around to pin his stern look on her, not taking kindly to her order or encouragement. They didn't understand that he had nothing left to give, no desire to continue surviving— not when he knew whatever Dolores was doing would save them all, but at the cost of them. "I can't, alright?"

But, Lila didn't get where his stubbornness was coming from and continued to press. "I'll mimic your power. We'll do it together."

He grit his teeth at her resolve. "You know we're gonna end up in the subway."

"Do not think about the past!"

"If you're gonna do something, now would be the time!" Allison called over to them.

The brunette grabbed the front of his suit jacket to try and shake him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in. She met his gaze, her own brown eyes flashing fiercely at him. "Your family needs you. Dolores would want you to keep fighting!"

Five's expression hardened, the muscle in his jaw ticking as Lila once again used his wife against him. He scowled as her words convinced him and he reluctantly grasped hers and Klaus' knees. She joined hands with Diego and Allison and Luther completed the chain. They disappeared in a flash of purple light.

They landed clumsily inside of the department store, his powers for once working with him and not against him. At the same time, Viktor was recovering from the attack Ben-but-not had lashed out at him with, preventing him from answering the phone. Klaus stared at the. . . thing with fascinated horror. "What is that?"

Allison gaped at him in shock as she struggled to her feet. "God, I think it's Ben!"

"Stay where you are!" Viktor exclaimed as his siblings came rushing over to help.

Luther gave his brother a concerned look, his natural role as Number One taking over as he saw the state the other man was in. "Viktor, you're hurt. Come here."

"No, I'm fine!" Viktor waved him off, more worried about their not-sibling "Just don't touch Ben!"

"Is that Jennifer?" Allison asked as another distorted figure stumbled towards them, only the vague impressions of a girl beneath the pulsing ooze.

Diego grimaced at the sight of her as her distorted voice snarled, "get away from him!"

Viktor ignored Jennifer and reached towards the Asian man. "Ben, please. Please let me help you."

Apparently, Ben-but-not didn't appreciate his offer as he growled out in the same voice: "leave now." He seemed to fight for control, his consciousness struggling to overpower whatever it was that was overtaking his mind. His normal voice returned for a moment. "I. . . I can't control it. I don't wanna hurt you."

The seventh Hargreeves didn't heed his warning. Instead, he grasped his brother's mutated arm with a strong grip, one that wouldn't falter even as energy began to wash through him at increasingly stronger intervals. He screwed up his face against the pain, determined to make this work.

"What's he doing?" Luther wondered as they watched small, golden particles flow from Ben and into Viktor.

"He's pulling out the Durango," Allison realized. But she also saw the toll it was taking on the brunet and she didn't want to lose two brothers to a lost cause. "Viktor, let him go!"

But Viktor's determination was absolute and he wouldn't be swayed by his siblings' interference. "I can save him!"

It seemed to happen in slow motion.

One minute, Viktor was struggling but successfully pulling the Durango from his brother. In the next, a single bullet pierced the upper windows of the department store, sailing straight towards Ben's chest. As if sensing its approach, he shoved Viktor away from him in a last effort to protect the brunet. In the same moment, what remained of Jennifer lurched forward to connect with the Asian man's back.

The bullet found its mark.

He collapsed against his other half, his eyes falling shut— but more from the impact than anything else. Then, everything became worse.

✧ ✧ ✧

Five was at the end of his rope as he often was these days. Everything he'd tried had been met by a dead end, whether it be saving his family or his wife. He was tired— so tired. He hadn't wanted to leave his siblings facing the unknown, but they didn't know this battle was a futile effort for survival. Quite frankly, it was just delaying the inevitable. Or, in the best case scenario, it was buying Dolores more time to finalize her deal. But either way Five knew that, ultimately, it wouldn't matter. They wouldn't even remember the fight to begin with, let alone their current lives. He had better things to do as he waited for the end.

He sat on the seat of the subway, feeling its motion roll soothingly along the tracks. The quiet eased his mind. He had all the time in the world here to recuperate. More than that, he wanted to savor all the memories he had of his wife before they were gone for good. Being locked in an unnecessary battle would have prevented him from doing so, but now he could take the time to remember.

It was always said that distance made the heart grow fonder, and that had never been more true for him. He regretted ever finding a fault with the woman he loved and would curse himself for an eternity for being so stupid and losing her. Not only that, but they'd spent their last week together fighting. He wished he could go back in time and smack some sense into himself (which was ironic, considering his abilities, but the reset of the universe was like a point of no return— nothing of their past lives existed, not even the hotel— so there was literally nothing to go back to.) All he could do now was think about Dolores, the memories of their time fighting apocalypses slipping through his mind.

The pale, dirty face of a girl looked up at him as her eyes squeezed tightly shut against the apparent brightness. How long had she been trapped under there? Days? Weeks? It was clearly awhile from how thin her face looked.

Five wasn't even sure if she was real and that maybe he was just imagining the whole thing. He couldn't help the disbelief that entered his tone as he asked, "what the hell?"

--

"Why don't you use my name, Five?"

"What?"

"You never address me by anything, it's usually just 'idiot' or something like that."

"It's 'cause that's what you are," he answered easily.

Having grown used to his behavior, she only rolled her eyes. "But I call you Five. You've never called me Lola."

"It's a dumb name."

"It's not!"

"You're more of a Dolores if anything. But I've found that calling people by their names means you get attached faster and that's what I'm trying to avoid."

--

"I love you," he said simply.

The brunette's reaction was almost comical as he her blue eyes widened impossibly and her mouth dropped open in shock. Her face turned pink— presumably from the incredulity. "You're joking, right?" she demanded, "this is some sort of twisted humor you have, some sort of prank. I— I—" she broke off, stuttering to a stop. "What the hell, Five?"

Ouch, that hurt. Then again, he'd never given her any indication that he'd felt anything other than companionship. He made a mental note to start looking into that as he gave the girl a smug look. "You should totally see your face. It's priceless!" he broke off into laughter as she reached out and repeatedly hit him on the arm.

--

"Then I am," Lola's eyes met his. "I'm in love with you, Five Hargreeves."

"And I'm in love with you, Dolores Gimbel," he answered softly. His eyes flicked over her face, half unable to believe that she was truly real.

"Say my name again," she asked quietly and to her credit, she barely startled when she felt the man's lips gently brush against her forehead.

"Dolores," he whispered, before he moved down to lightly kiss her nose. "Gimbel."

Then, he kissed her.

The woman's lips were soft and warm as they met his and she froze at first, caught off guard. She recovered quickly, though, and responded with equal— or greater— enthusiasm. She underestimated her own strength and her fervor sent them both toppling over into the compact dirt underneath them. Their lips broke apart as the couple started laughing at their clumsiness. The brunette tucked her face into the man's shoulder as she felt him shake slightly from the action. Her giggles were the first to quiet and she pushed herself up to look at his face. She smiled softly at the rare happiness that lit his eyes.

Then, she kissed him.

Five's lips tasted of alcohol and she could feel the faint scratch of his beard against her face.

Dolores' lips tasted of dust and wine.

--

"Hi," she murmured quietly as her eyes met his. She smiled shyly at him. "You're cute."

He beamed at her, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. "No, I'm Five," he reminded her helpfully.

That earned him another peal of giggles that sent his heart pounding as he watched he affectionately. Once they'd died again, he couldn't resist leaning forward so that his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "you know what we should do?"

Dolores' reply was breathless, "what?"

"Have a tryst in the library."

--

"Dolly," he started hesitantly, uncertain of where he was going with this, "you know I've never been as good with words as you are, so this isn't easy for me to say—" He swallowed nervously and stuck his hand in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. "—but I want you to know that I cherish every single moment I've ever shared with you." He paused to calculate the number in his head. "All twenty-three and a half million of them. A lifetime."

He watched as her eyes widened at the mention of the precise number, knowing she'd kept track of it in her mind as she had with all the others she'd intrinsically counted. He continued: "now look at us. We're lucky enough to get a second one."

She gave him a watery smile— this time, she was teary for a different reason. "We've got quite a bit of time before we get to get married again," she whispered. Five chuckled slightly.

"You're right. We do have a lot of growing up to do," he admitted. He took his hand out of his pocket and reached for hers to intertwine their fingers together as he met her eyes. "I hope that you'll be able to put up with me through it all again. I know I can be a bit of a handful," he acknowledged wryly.

--

"Dolly, please, wake up. Goddamn it, wake up. I love you. Come on, Dolly, come on, don't you know I love you? Wake up, wake up, wake up. . . come on, open your eyes—"

Five didn't know what he'd do without her. For years and years, she'd been a part of his world, the center of his existence, the focal point that he revolved around. She was rooted in his soul as much a part of him as his powers were—

In the present day, Five's eyes snapped open. Stop it, he told himself sternly, you're supposed to be thinking about good memories. Obsessing over her death was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. His mission for the last six (plus) years had been to try and fix it, but he had failed every time. Either Dolores hadn't existed, she was present but as a mannequin, or she had already died. That last occurrence had been unsettlingly rare; the first happened more often than not.

His siblings had begun to encourage him to give up. They'd entertained his dedication for a surprisingly long time, but as the years wore on their tune had changed. His hadn't, though. Even if Luther had given up on finding his wife, he would never give up on Dolores. As he'd told Allison during that first year: he'd tear apart every timeline, every universe, atom by atom until he got his wife back.

The motion of the train sliding to a stop forced his thoughts away from his wife momentarily. The doors opened smoothly onto one of the many look-alike platforms. But, this one was different— this one he'd. . . already been there? That couldn't be right.

Five jumped to his feet and hurried after the other version of himself. He was hyper conscious of any possible signs of Paradox Psychosis but to his confusion, there weren't any. His other self didn't seem to notice that he was following, so he tried to get the man's attention. "Hey, wait!"

He didn't wait. (Of course not, because he never listened to anyone.) Five picked up his pace so he wouldn't lose sight of his copy. His footsteps echoed on the stairs as he descended them quickly. The sight at the bottom of them made him pause. In the hospital-like whiteness of the subway station, there was a bright, neon-orange sign that read Max's Delicatessen. He approached it warily, even more worried about Paradox Psychosis as he caught a glimpse of the patrons of the restaurant. They were all variations of him.

But he didn't even let out a single fart as he opened the door, which sent the bell chiming merrily. Some of the Fives turned to look at his entrance, but they easily dismissed his appearance and went back to what they were doing. Five stared at the deli with only a little shock, mostly just caught off guard by the change in color palette rather than the sight of his variants.

He slowly hung up his coat on the nearby rack, listening to the low murmur of his other selves conversing. They were all slightly different; some Fives had taken off their suit jacket, others were just in a button-down shirt and tie, others had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows. The genetics were the same, though. As he took this in, the Five from earlier called out to him: "hey, you! Over here."

Five made his way over to the version of himself he decided to deem booth-Five. His copy was taking a sip of coffee from his mug as he sat down. "What is this place?"

"It's a gas station," booth-Five snarked. "The hell does it look like? It's a deli."

The Five behind him who was holding a newspaper chuckled. Another Five came over, bearing two sandwiches and mugs. "Coffee," he announced as he placed the items on the table. "And pastramis. Bon a petit."

He watched as booth-Five picked up one side of his sandwich to look at it critically. "It's a little light on the sauerkraut, no?"

"Yeah, it says it on the menu. I keep telling him, but he never listens."

"Sorry."

His copy waved away the apology. "It's not your fault."

"Theoretically it is," he pointed out, reaching out to pick up his mug.

Booth-Five stopped him. "You're not gonna like that."

"Dolores always knew how to make a better cup of coffee than we did, didn't she?" he asked with a sigh as he set it back down.

The other Five's expression became wistful and tinged with jealousy. "You were one of the lucky ones then, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

He waved around to their counterparts. "Most of us here only got Dolores as. . . uh, not a human," he explained with mild embarrassment. "Or they didn't get to meet her at all. You're only the third one of us to have her as a living wife."

Although he'd kind of expected it due to what he'd found throughout the timelines, Five's heart still sank at the consistency. "Oh. Are the. . . other two here?"

The brunet jerked his head towards a table in the back. "They don't say much; they both lost her at different times in their lives. You might get more out of them than we ever have, what with your common ground and all."

Five nodded in thanks, rising to his feet to make his way over to them. Before he completely abandoned booth-Five, his copy reached out a hand and snagged his wrist to keep him from leaving. Five turned to him and arched a brow, sharply pulling his arm away. "Yes?"

"What. . . what was she like?" his alternate self asked, clearly self-conscious about this moment of weakness as he refused to meet Five's eyes and trailed his finger around the rim of his coffee mug.

He softened a little, understanding the desire to want to know more about the woman he loved, no matter what timeline or form she existed in. He tried to summarize his feelings for his wife in the best way he could, recalling all the feelings he'd expressed about her over the years. "She's our constant when everything goes to shit. We love her to the point of invention. And. . . to every question we have ever had, or ever will have, she is the answer."

The other Five let him go then, staring off into space as he tried to picture what Dolores had truly been like, as more than just the personality he'd made for her in his head. He went over to the indicated booth where two more of his copies sat. Except. . . they both bore distinct variations from the other Fives. The one sitting closest to the wall was older and his hair was slightly longer.

The other Five's skin was pale and sallow, even lighter in color than was average for a Five. His face was hollow, his cheeks sunken in and expression gaunt. There were dark bags under his eyes. His hair hung limply against his forehead as if he was no longer concerned with taking care of himself. He only wore a white button-down shirt out of the usual suit combo, though it was starting to yellow with age. But what was most striking were his eyes: their green hues were dull, completely devoid of emotion or the usual spark that could be found in a Five's expression.

He startled a bit at the second Five's ragged features but otherwise appeared unphased as he sat across from them. "So," he began, getting right to the point, "you had a human Dolores for your wife? What happened to her?"

They both jolted at the question. The less well-kempt Five's eyes narrowed, a sneer forming on his lips. The older version of himself had only a marginally less hostile reaction as he retorted coolly, "what's it to you?"

"I had a human Dolores," he explained. His voice caught and became less defensive as he added regretfully, "I lost her. I tried to find her by searching the timelines, but—"

"She wasn't there," his older self finished quietly, his tone warming a fraction. "We know."

"So," Five repeated with only a hint of impatience, "what happened to yours?"

"Died," his other self spoke up for the first time. His voice was rough from lack of use and low, void of inflection entirely. "In the apocalypse. Viktor's apocalypse."

He frowned. "What? No, that's not right. She made it out!"

His older self shook his head. "Not every time. But. . . at least it ended her suffering. It's almost worse when she had a happy life to begin with."

"That's what she had with you?" Five questioned him.

"We were trying," he said with a nod. His eyes took on a faraway quality as he remembered his life with her. "We'd moved out of the city to a little cottage in the country. It was mostly because that's what she wanted; she thought it was the best place to start a family. We had a little girl—"

"Aoife," Five finished for him, the realization only taking a second. Before his other self could wonder how he knew this, he pulled the picture out of his suit pocket, which he'd grabbed from Gracie's room prior to their face-off with Ben and Jennifer. He unfolded it and shoved it towards his other self. "I ended up there. My. . . friend—" (He only paused since sometimes Lila wasn't really his friend at all and was more the 'enemy' part of frenemy.) "—and I got stuck trying to get back home and we found it. I've been wondering what happened to make you leave."

Cottage-Five took the photo from him, his gaze misting over as he took in the sight of his wife and daughter for the first time in who knew how long. His attention never left the image as he explained quietly, "it was. . . awful. I lost them all in one fell swoop. I guess that's just how much the universe loves to fuck with us. I always knew that damn dog was going to be trouble; I should've kicked it out on its first night."

"Mr. Pennycrumb?" he prompted the other man. "How was it his fault?"

The quieter of the two Fives snorted at that but otherwise remained silent. Cottage-Five let out his own scoff. "That was such a stupid name. It was always more trouble than it was worth, bringing mud into the house, letting it out to shit, getting fur everywhere. . . It was only a matter of time before it got loose. We looked for it all night and Aoife was the one who found it— and saw why it wasn't responding to us calling its name. A wolf or something must've gotten to it and she. . . she saw it dead."

He winced, his heart aching at the thought of his small daughter seeing something so horrific. His older self continued bitterly, "she freaked out— understandably— but it wasn't just any normal freak out. No; she tried to bring that damn thing back to life— reverse time on it, you know. I was still training her to master her powers and she tended to lose control with high emotions.

"Dolly was the one who got to her first and her instinct was to comfort, of course. She hugged Aoife while she was still powered up and. . . she couldn't restrain herself. I got there just in time to watch my wife age before my eyes, becoming an old woman and then—" He shook his head, his throat working, unable to finish the sentence. After a minute, he resumed speaking, "and Aoife. . . that only sent her spiraling further; I couldn't do anything as she tried to turn her power inward to keep it from affecting others. But. . . it affected her. Well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest.

"After that, there was no point in staying; there were just too many memories in that house. I couldn't even bear the thought of taking a memento of her with me; any physical reminder of what I'd lost would be too painful. I was determined, though. I thought I might be able to use the subway to find her in another timeline, or appear earlier in our timeline to stop everything from happening. But. . . you know how that turned out, too."

Five listened, a stinging numbness setting in as the grim recount unfolded. He watched Cottage-Five's hands clench and unclench around the photo, crinkling it slightly. This wasn't what he'd expected— losing Dolores once had been unbearable, but the thought of watching her, and his daughter, suffer because of a power they couldn't control. . . it made his own regrets feel almost trivial. His older self inclined his head towards his counterpart. "You should hear his story. It's even more fucked up than mine."

"That's not saying much," the gaunt Five said scornfully. "She died. I failed. End of story."

His older self shook his head. "That's not all. When he got back to 2019, he found her again. She didn't know him, of course, but there was a-a connection. But she wasn't his Dolores, not to mention the mental age gap. He. . . left her behind and. . . she faced the apocalypse alone."

"Why does this keep happening to her?" the brunet asked. "In every timeline she was alive, she'd been dead for six years. Otherwise she. . . she simply didn't exist."

The more ragged version of himself let out a harsh laugh. "She's a mistake. Trust us to love something the universe keeps yanking out of reach."

"Don't call her that," he snapped.

"No," haggard-Five told him. "I mean it. She's an anomaly that wasn't supposed to happen. She'll keep dying because she's not meant to exist in this universe— in any universe."

Five's stomach twisted until it resembled Gordian's knot. Although Dolores had mentioned that not-God had called her a cosmic mistake, he hadn't thought she'd meant it to this extent. "You can't mean that. She-she has to exist."

The copy before him shrugged carelessly. "I got it straight from the big man upstairs— or, actually, the big woman upstairs. She's quite the brat, really. I would've strangled the kid if you could feel pain in The Void."

Two thoughts occurred to him at once. The first was that he recognized the name of that place: The Void. That was where Dolores had said she was being held. He was also pretty sure that Klaus had mentioned it a few times. The second was— "Wait, you died?"

"Yeah," dead-Five admitted. "After losing Dolores so many times. . . I thought that I should join her. Fuckin' Klaus wouldn't let me stay dead."

"So, what? You just decided to give up on her? Don't you think that she's working to get back to us?" Five demanded. The revelation of Klaus' apparent necromancy powers hardly surprised him; after all, he had different powers in this timeline— it wasn't that much of a jump to imagine his brother had adjacent powers to the one he had now.

"I did what you did," the other man answered. "Scoured the timelines for her. After. . . a couple hundred thousand tries, I couldn't take the heartache anymore and decided to hang in the towel."

Five sank back against the booth's seat cushions as he came to terms with the news. He'd tried not to get his hopes up with every new timeline but he hadn't quite managed it; he knew the crushing disappointment that his other self was talking about. "There has to be a way to fix this where we don't lose everything."

"We've tried," dead-Five reminded him. "We built the Commission to make it easier to find her, remember? Fat lot of good that did. No, there's only one person who can fix this and it's not us."

"Dolores," Five murmured. He'd known the truth all along, but he'd needed to do something— he couldn't just sit around and mope. "She told me that she was making a deal with God. I thought she was joking."

Cottage-Five leaned forward with interest. "Told? I thought you said she was dead? How could she. . ." His eyes widened. "Klaus. He can summon her?"

"He's only done it twice," Five replied. "I don't think he can do it again, though. We're kind of in the middle of something."

Dead-Five nodded knowingly. "The end of the world." His copy suddenly seemed a lot more invested in the conversation. There was a determined light in his eyes now, as if the barest hope of one of them seeing Dolores again gave him a new perspective on everything. "You need to get back to your family. They're the reason why this keeps happening. It's the same reason why the universe won't let Dolores live, but the only difference is that we have superpowers so we're driven to try and change it."

He sighed. "But we can't. We're doomed to save or destroy the world over and over again, ad infinitum."

"Exactly," dead-Five agreed. "Unless you don't fight it this time. Hold out for as long as you can, but don't run. Give Dolores enough time to finish her deal. Just promise me one thing." Five met his gaze, already half-standing from the booth. "You'll do right by her in whatever timeline you end up in. One of us should have a shot at the life we've always wanted."

"You have my word," Five promised him. He stood, preparing to return to his siblings, and gestured to the photo. "You can keep that. You need it more than I do, I think."

✧ ✧ ✧

"So, the world's ending again, huh?" Klaus asked as they regrouped at the old academy. They helped Allison over to the couch and eased her down onto the cushions.

Just then, Five reappeared in a flash of purple light. Luther turned in surprise at the sound. "Why'd you come back, buddy? Things are pretty bleak here."

"I was always planning to," he replied defensively. "I just needed a minute. Depending on how you look at it, I was lucky or unlucky enough to have a long and eye-opening conversation with myself. . . uh, several of my selves."

Klaus frowned in confusion at his wording. "What?"

"The details aren't important," Five told him dismissively. "What is important is that there's a chance we might all make it out of this."

"Alive?" Diego pressed, knowing his brother's propensity for leaving out details (as he'd just done.)

The man nodded. "Yes. The problem is, I don't know exactly how it's going to happen. It's. . . it's up to Dolores how this all shakes out."

Even with a mild concussion, Allison was still able to recognize the impossibility of his words. "Dolores? But she's dead! How can she help us?"

"She's not dead," Five shot back irritably. "She's just in The Void. Klaus will tell you it's not the same."

"Yeah!" the Séance exclaimed brightly, pleased to be in on the situation for once. He clapped his hands as their siblings looked over at him. "You can come back from The Void; you can't come back once you've crossed over. And get this! She's the one who haunted our radios and only let them play Dolores."

"The important information that our brother left out is that Dolores is making a deal with the little girl on a bike, who we think is God," Five informed their siblings, as Dolores had made sure not to talk about her death-experience during their Christmas dinner, not wanting to dampen the mood.

"She's making a deal with god?" Viktor wondered doubtfully. "Is that even possible?"

"If anyone can do it, it's her," the boy said firmly. "She didn't tell me everything but from the way she was describing it, it will act like a more natural version of what pressing the button did in Hotel Oblivion."

"What about our families?" Allison asked, looking over at the children who were clustered in the main foyer. She thought of Ray, too, who had travelled out of state on a last minute call. She wished desperately that he could be here; this was the second time she would have to abandon him without a proper goodbye.

A muscle in her brother's jaw ticked at their protests. "This is Dolores, alright? She'll make sure everyone's taken care of."

"Still," Lila spoke up, her eyes flicking in the same direction Allison's had, "they're children, Five. They shouldn't have to see this. It was bad enough when I saw my mother. . ."

She trailed off, her throat working as she swallowed. Even though it had been years since it had happened, it still hurt to remember the Handler's death. For all her faults, that had been the woman who'd raised her and taken care of her.

Diego's expression softened at seeing his wife's distress. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her comfortingly, pulling her to his side. She briefly allowed herself to lean her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as she felt the crush of emotions that the situation brought.

It was decided that Lila would take their extended family to the subway so they could at least have a peaceful end. Five would follow her so she could mimic his power and come back to the Academy. Then, there was nothing to do but wait.

--

Not long after their goodbyes had been said, the seven of them stood in a circle where their children had once been. The academy shook with the force of the Cleanse bearing down upon them. A monstrous roar sounded closer than what felt comfortable, but Five wasn't afraid. Instead, his heart twisted a little in his chest as he thought about their not-brother being trapped inside of that beast. Everyone in the Academy knew that next to Klaus, Ben had been the most afraid of his powers— that he would become the monster like the Eldritch tentacles he could summon, and now he had. Not even mean­-Ben deserved that fate. The only comfort Five had was that Dolores would make sure this would never happen again: they'd all get a happy ending.

There was a shattering sound as four tentacles burst through the building's windows. They waved slowly towards the small group, who watched them with more than a little trepidation. Klaus bounced on the balls of his feet and rubbed his hands together as he looked up at the ceiling and to the sky beyond. "Jellybean, whatever you're gonna do, I suggest you get a move on!"

"Don't rush her, Klaus," Five snapped. "She's doing the best she can."

Luther sighed. "What I wouldn't give to listen to Dolores one last time."

"If I ever have to hear that song again, I'm gonna break the radio," Diego huffed. "I'm sure there's more than one song called Dolores."

Lila reached for her husband's hand and tangled their fingers together. "Maybe if you had figured out that she was trying to communicate with you, she would've let up."

Suspicious-looking, pulsating orange goo travelled across the floor. It surrounded their feet like quick-dry cement; they couldn't have run even if they wanted to. Luther looked down at it nervously. "Uh. . . Five?"

"Don't fight it," he replied. There was a slight catch in his voice. "Just hold on. Dolores will come through. I know she will."

He believed this with the entirety of his being. Even as the sludge travelled up their legs, he never lost faith. The man reassured his brother with such conviction that his siblings began to believe in Dolores, too— even the ones who had traditionally disliked her.

"Thank you for letting me be in your weird family," Lila gasped out as the ooze rose to their waists. A tear slid down her cheek as she thought about her children and her husband, both of whom she loved more than she had ever imagined.

She received breathless chuckles in response. Luther tried to keep up his strong, leadership demeanor that he'd been trained to have. His voice only wavered slightly as he said, "oh God, I'm gonna miss you guys."

"I'm just glad we're all together in the end," Viktor said, though his words were tinged with sorrow as he added, "I wish Dolores could've been here, too."

"Maybe we'll see each other again," Allison stated hopefully.

Although they would never know it, her words were the ones that came true.

***𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒' 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒***

1. LUTHER: Sloane
2. DIEGO: Lila and his children
3. KLAUS: Dave
4. ALLISON: Ray and Claire
5. FIVE: Dolores
6. VIKTOR: Sissy and Harlan
7. LILA: Diego and her children

✧ ✧ ✧

[ the void ]

The little girl on a bike stared Dolores down, her expression one of great dislike. She sniffed disapprovingly at the brunette. "You're very annoying, but if this means we both get what we want, then it shall be."

She stuck her hand out. Dolores' face remained impassive, though she wanted more than anything to shout her jubilation to the sky. She grasped God's hand and gave it a firm shake that would've made any shark lawyer proud.

Just as the Cleanse was crawling up the Hargreeves' necks, the world turned white.

and

everything

changed