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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴʙᴇᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ
ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴏғ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ( ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ )
ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ꒱


❝ YOU KNOW, IT'S ONE OF THE
NAMES I WAS CONSIDERING
IF I EVER HAVE CHILDREN ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Five Hargreeves' mind was spinning. Seasoned time travelers knew that jumping timelines was a massive head trip. Things moved by so quickly— real one minute, something else entirely the next— that it was easy to get all tangled up in the specifics. That's why every time traveler had an anchor or a focus point, something concrete to hold on to so they wouldn't end up falling down.

But what happened when you lost that anchor? (And it was all your fault?)

Dolores was gone (gone, gone, gone.) He'd only just come to terms with that part of reality; he couldn't bring himself to think of her as dead yet. She was merely gone, just out of sight, somewhere he couldn't quite reach. He'd find her, though, because she was his only anchor. There was no one else he could think of to be his constant. His siblings were flighty at best and he had no one, nothing, else.

The first logical step to finding his wife, Five decided, was to locate her in this timeline. She wouldn't be the same Dolores— she wouldn't be the one who'd survived hell with him, who'd fought with him, who'd loved him— but it was better than trying to find the real Dolores alone. So, he made his way to the Gimbel Brothers department store on his first morning in the new timeline.

It was a reassuring sight that, when he pushed open the door (because he had no powers; for the first time in his life, he had to use an actual door), everything was the same as the two other times he'd visited the place. Racks of clothes stood neatly along the isles, waiting for customers to purchase them. Non-clothing items that were stored upfront for last-minute grabs were stacked smartly on the shelves.

The boy's gaze travelled over the layout, his eyes catching on a sign that read Women's. His heart gave a painful twist at even that simple reminder: Dolores had said it that section was four hundred fifty-three steps from the door. His feet followed the path they'd once taken on that rainy night. He approached the same junction of several aisles.

A group of mannequins stood (or sat) proudly on the display, each wearing a different outfit. One of the models off to the side with dull red hair was wearing the exact same outfit that past-Dolores had been wearing the day he'd found her in the apocalypse: a long-sleeved, V-necked white shirt with large, black polka dots, fit jeans and a beret. There was a blank, white space at the very front of the display that might fit a fifteen-year-old girl. He swallowed as it roused their conversation about it from his memory.

"This is the exact position I would have when I pretended to be a mannequin. Then I'd jump up and scare customers."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm amusing."

"Dolly. . ."

"Yeah?"

"Dolly, I—"

They'd been interrupted by Hazel and Cha-Cha trying to gun them down, but Five remembered what he'd been about to say. That had been the first time he'd tried to convey the deep feelings he had for her, even greater than just a simple 'I love you.' His hesitation had been because he hadn't been sure of how to do so, the words only coming to him later before everything had gone to hell.

"To every question I have ever had, or ever will have, she is the answer."

"I want you to know that I cherish every single moment I've ever shared with you. All twenty-three and a half million of them. A lifetime."

How had he forgotten everything he'd felt for her over all those decades? He wouldn't have survived the apocalypse(s) without her. He swore to himself that, once he found her (because he would. He was Five Hargreeves— he didn't fail), he would spend every second of the next lifetime they had together making up for all of his shortcomings. He swallowed past the grief that threatened to consume him. He had never been an optimistic sort of person but he refused to give up the hope that she was here. He wouldn't lose himself completely unless he'd exhausted every possibility.

Feeling a rush of renewed determination, he made his way over to a dark-skinned employee. His mind conjured up her name: Brittany, Dolores' insufferable friend who'd insulted his name. Ignoring the fact that she was currently occupied with a task related to her job, he announced: "I need to speak to Edward Gimbel. Immediately."

Brittany glanced over at him, scanned over him once, and arched a brow. "Aren't you a little young to be a Karen?"

A what? How could someone's name be a verb? He shook off his confusion and pinned her with one of his trademark glares. It would've made any normal person quail under the look, but the employee merely appeared nonplussed in return. He repeated sharply, "I need to talk to him. Is—he—here?"

The young woman sighed as if the task required far more effort than she was willing to put out. She roughly slammed the hanger down on the rack with a metal clang!, irritated by both the boy's tone and at her chore being interrupted. "Wait here."

It took some time in which Five paced the aisle irately, his desperation and urgency making the wait feel even longer. Finally, Brittany returned with a blond-haired man behind her. Five's heart gave another painful squeeze at the sight of Edward's very familiar blue eyes— eyes that he had spent decades staring into. As relieved as he was to see something right still intact with this timeline, the man's face gave him pause. In the few times he'd met the man, he never remembered Edward to have a beard.

The blond smiled genially at him— a customer service smile, one that spoke of no immediate recognition. "Hello. Brittany here told me you wanted to speak to the owner?"

"The owner?" Five repeated. Owner. As in singular. The vicelike grip that held his chest tightened with unease. "No, that's not right. It's Gimbel Brothers. Plural. Where's your brother?"

The man's expression softened, tinged with sadness. "Ah, Edward? He. . . he passed away a few years back in a tragic car accident. I'm sorry, if you knew him."

***𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐘'𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍***

Edmund: Dolores' father
Edward: Dolores' uncle
As a joke they played on their employees,
the brothers had both decided to go by
'Ed.' While their personnel knew of both
full names, they never learned which twin
was which.

No. No, no, no. This wasn't how the story went! Dolores and her uncle were close. He didn't die— he was like a cockroach, crawling out of the crevices. He'd been there for the goddamn end of the world, even after the rest of the population had been obliterated! A car crash had killed him?

Cold fear crashed over him. His breath hitched. His hands trembled and he curled them into fists, letting his nails bite into his palms to keep himself from spiraling. Desperately, he blurted out: "Dolores. Dolores, where is she? She's here, right? She has to be!"

Edmund's— for he wasn't Edward— features shifted into sympathy. "Dolores," he repeated, as if testing out the word. "What a beautiful name for a girl. You know, it's one of the names I was considering if I ever have children."

IF

I

EVER

HAVE

CHILDREN

The words hit him individually, each one a more forceful blow than the last. The boy staggered backwards as if they'd actually made physical impact.

IF

I

EVER

HAVE

CHILDREN

Five Hargreeves' universe cracked in two.

✧ ✧ ✧

He was on a warpath. Anybody who got a glimpse of his face knew to get out of his way. Fury burned in his chest during the entire plane ride to LA— Five didn't even remember how he'd gotten a ticket (or who in their right mind would sell him one when he had murder in his eyes), just the raw determination that he wouldn't let any obstacle get in the way of his target.

Not his sister. Not Allison. Just 'target.' That's how he'd thought at the Commission. He was letting those trained killing instincts take over now— the ones he'd never let Dolores see, for fear of pushing her away forever. But she wasn't here now. She didn't exist in this timeline. Allison had made sure of that, and now she would pay. He let the pure, unbridled rage fill him until he was nothing but his anger.

Five stormed off the plane without looking back, his heart pounding as his feet hit the ground. The world around him blurred in his peripheral vision, a haze of muted colors and meaningless noise. He could only think of one thing: Allison. She'd taken everything from him. She'd meddled with the timeline like it was hers to rewrite and in doing so, erased the one person who had kept him sane. Dolores. All those memories of siblinghood, of fighting side by side—they were distant, fractured now. Whatever bond they had was irreparably severed the moment she chose to rewrite his history, ripping his wife from his grasp.

His breaths were shallow, ragged. Five hadn't bothered with luggage—he had nothing but the clothes on his back, and that was enough. He was light, mobile, and lethal. He didn't need weapons; he was the weapon.

--

It irked him on some subconscious level, beneath his simmering rage, that he couldn't break-and-enter by blinking. It would be so much simpler than having to knock on the door like someone who was coming over for a friendly visit. But, he had no other choice. At least it would bring his target to him.

Sure enough, Allison answered the door, her eyes widening in confusion at the sight of her brother. "Five? How did you—"

She'd been about to finish her question with the words 'find me,' but she never got the chance. The boy lunged for her, his hands outstretched and reaching for her throat. Allison's ingrained fighting instincts kicked in. She redirected his hands, backing up to put space between them. "Five, what the hell—?"

But he was relentless, his fists swinging for her face, her stomach, anywhere he could reach. She blocked him, years of practice doing bouts with the boy helping her to anticipate his moves. She had the size advantage, too, being bigger and taller. Five was quick, though, and he'd been using his skills more recently and on a more regular basis than she had been. In a deft move, he swept his leg under both of hers, causing her to lose her balance. He wasted no time in lunging at her, his hands gripping her throat as he'd been intent on doing from the beginning.

"Where—is—she?" he snarled.

Despite the situation, Allison remained calm. Claire was downstairs and safe, so she wouldn't witness her mother being threatened. That was all she really cared about; after all, this wasn't the first time someone had tried to choke her to death. It was the first time Five had tried, but he was her brother. He was her brother, and no matter how he felt about her betraying their family, he wouldn't hurt her— permanently, at least. She hoped so. The look in his eyes— wild and desperate with a hint of madness— told her otherwise.

Unable to really understand what he was getting at, she rasped out: "w-who?"

That was the wrong question to ask.

Five's fingers pressed tighter on her windpipe as his eyes blazed brighter with fury. "Dolores," he growled, hissing her name through his teeth. "What did you do with her?"

"S-she's—not—with—you?" Allison grit out.

"No. Otherwise I sure as hell wouldn't be here right now. What—did—you—do—with—her? Don't make me ask again."

The pressure on her throat eased slightly so she could answer. "I don't know! Have you tried looking for her?"

Five laughed then. Not a real laugh, but something that was twisted and cold, tinged with manic despair. "That's the first fucking thing I did! And guess what? She was never even born! You fucking erased her! You were the one that pushed the button, sister-mine. Now she's gone—" His voice gave way on the last word, grief seeping through his fury.

Allison's mind raced, trying to process what Five was saying. Dolores—erased? It didn't make any sense. She hadn't erased anyone; her entire deal with Reginald and Edward had been to bring people back! She'd brought Ray and Claire back. She'd brought Five's arm back. She'd even brought Luther back to life. Sure, she had never really liked Dolores, but she hadn't felt enough dislike to remove her from reality entirely (well, barring the one time she'd killed the girl, but even in her anger she'd known that Lila or Five would revive her.)

"Five, I swear," she choked out. "I didn't. . . I didn't erase her. I wouldn't do that." She clawed at his hands, not fighting him so much as trying to connect, to make him listen. "There has to be another explanation."

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, rapidly growing closer. The boy's attention shifted at the sound, looking up to find Ray running to his wife's rescue. "I heard fighting—" He came to a standstill at the sight of Five pinning his sister down. He reacted immediately, rushing forward to peel the boy away from her. "Get off her! Get the hell off her!"

Five didn't go quietly. His hands fought against Ray's grip, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. But Ray was stubborn and with a swift pull, he managed to haul Five backwards, freeing Allison from his grip. She gasped, coughing as air rushed back into her lungs. She sat up, rubbing at her throat, while Ray positioned himself between them like a human shield. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, still holding Five by the shoulders.

The boy ignored Ray's presence entirely, wrenching himself free from the man's grasp as Allison got to her feet, winded and a little bruised, but otherwise unharmed. Five marched up to the woman, getting in her face as best he could with their height difference. Pointing an accusatory finger at her, he promised lowly: "I will find her. I don't care if it takes every last breath I have left. I will not rest until I have her back. I will tear apart every timeline, every universe, atom by atom until I find her. If you're lying to me, if you had anything to do with her disappearance, I swear, I will make you regret it."

Five stared at her for a long moment, the intensity of his anger still palpable. He backed away, growling in frustration, his hands clenching into fists. He gave her a withering glare that indicated he no longer felt any sort of affection towards her. Then, he turned on his heel and strode out of the house without looking back.

Allison let out a breathless, anxious laugh. Her voice was a bit hoarse from the recent abuse to her throat as she informed her husband: "Ray, that was my other brother, Five, and that was as good of an introduction to his personality as you could get. Charming boy, isn't he?"

"Jesus Christ," Ray cursed, bringing one hand to his forehead to rub at the newly-forming headache. He wondered exactly what kind of family he'd married into.

✧ ✧ ✧

"It's. . . time for you to go. It's time for us to go our separate ways."

"I'm serious, Dolores. We've had a good run but it's time for a fresh start. I. . . don't need you anymore."

"We've been through too much together and this isn't something that we can get through."

For the first time in his entire life, Five was willing to admit that he'd been wrong. He'd been so, so wrong. He shouldn't have let her go. He needed her more than words could say. If only he hadn't been a coward like she'd correctly accused him of being and faced his fear of losing her. Back then, he'd wanted to run like hell away from her because of what? She could die? He'd been so stupid. He should have remembered that he was the universe's favorite joke, because he'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

Dolores was gone. Dolores was dead, and it was all his fault.

He'd said he wanted space. The universe had given that to him permanently. He wanted to scream at the sky saying no, no, not like this! I didn't mean it like this! But he knew there was no one there to hear him and he would only shout himself hoarse. That didn't stop him from screaming into his pillow when he thought of the words he'd flung at her in misplaced anger.

"Oh, so you pushed [Ben] away? It seemed as if you were quite enjoying yourself before I came in. Sorry my presence interrupted your. . . illicit rendezvous."

"I'm surprised those are the moral grounds that are stopping you. It's not like you're trying to complete your Hargreeves bingo card or anything. Who's next? Luther? It wouldn't be the first time you broke up a marriage."

"If you're feeling grief you certainly have a funny way of showing it. Boning my brother only hours after the termination of our marriage? Yeah, you're real torn up about it."

Five's breath hitched as the sharp words echoed in his mind, searing him like a brand. He had let his anger spiral out of control, and in doing so, he had pushed Dolores away for good. He'd wanted to hurt her, make her feel the fear that was eating him alive from the inside, but instead it had only served to separate them further.

The memory of Dolores, standing there with hurt, fury and betrayal written all over her face haunted him. He should have trusted that she would never do something like that. She'd sworn up and down that she never had feelings for Ben, but no, he hadn't believed her. He'd taken the word of the man who'd forced himself on her over his own wife's. She'd been right. She'd always been right. And now, she was gone.

This new life, his family's second chance, meant nothing without her. His siblings had adapted to normal life without any issues, leaving him behind to rot in peace. There were now just endless days stretching out before him, filled with staring at stained, cracked ceilings as the pit of loneliness became deeper, gnawing at his stomach in a way that hunger never had. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on him from all sides, threatening to crush him under its weight. He wanted to take it all back, to go back to the moment when he could have chosen to stay, to fight for her instead of against her. But there was no going back; his powers were gone even if he'd been skilled enough to time travel to that exact moment.

"You're the one I have to be worried about! You and your turncoat inclinations."

"I saw your uncle make a deal with Reginald and Allison last night while you were busy sucking Ben's face. I know you're working with him. Why else would you side with them to try to save the world?"

"If you have plans to murder any more of my siblings, I'd like to know about them."

How could he accused her of betraying his— their— family? The chaotic siblings he'd been so afraid would scare her off, but she'd adopted them as her own without a second thought. Five's hands trembled as he clenched his fists, trying to stop the wave of regret that threatened to drown him. He'd pushed away the one person who had always been there for him, the one person who had loved him unconditionally despite all his flaws.

He swallowed hard, the bitterness of his own failure choking him. He had always prided himself on being logical, on being able to see through lies and deception. But when it came to Dolores, he'd failed spectacularly. He'd let his emotions get the better of him, and now she was gone. Forever.

The ache in his chest was unbearable. All he had left of his wife were memories and the last few were tainted by his own fear, anger and insecurity. He didn't even have any pictures of her to look back on; she had never existed in this timeline to take them. His one reassurance that she had even been real and not just a figment of his imagination was a simple silver chain which bore an aged, dented golden ring. Her wedding ring, which she had thrown at him during their unofficial divorce.

As he held it in front of him, another glint of gold caught his eye. His matching band rested against the underside of his wrist, tied to his arm with Dolores' stolen hair ribbon. Once a source of comfort, it mocked him now. Why was it fair that even their rings could be together in this timeline, but the woman to whom one of them belonged to wasn't?

He had nothing left. No mission to complete, no world to save, no Dolores to come home to. He was just. . . empty. The fire that had driven him for so long had burned out, leaving only ashes in its wake. His life had been a series of battles, but this was one he couldn't win. He had lost the most important thing in the world to him, and it was all his fault.

Unable to look at the rings together, for they were a taunting him of everything he'd once had, he untied the black hair ribbon for the first time since he'd put it on his wrist. Sliding the metal band off the loop, he unclasped the necklace and let it fall down the chain to rest next to its pair. He had made the mistake once— twice, three times— of forsaking his wife and he had turned out to be a gibbering idiot. He refused to let the habit continue as he was not in the practice of making a fool of himself. But, it was too painful to constantly look at the reminder of his love. So, he hid the rings by clasping the chain around his neck and tucking them underneath his shirt. He could feel the cool metal against his skin; it was easier to keep them close that way rather than staring directly at them.

As he sat there, alone, Five finally understood what true despair felt like. It wasn't just sadness or anger—it was the complete and utter absence of hope. He had once thought that nothing could break him, that he was invincible. But Dolores had been his weakness, the one person that made him human. And now that she was gone, so was he.

✧ ✧ ✧

FIVE YEARS LATER . . .

Santa Baby played over the speakers in the conference room, which hosted tables set in groups of four. A few decorated Christmas tree stood around the room to bring a festive mood to the setting. A well-lit banner that read Euker Tournament was hung on the far side of the room. Players ranging from middle-aged to elderly sat scattered about in various teams to compete against each other. The most notable of these players were a couple who shared the same name. barring two letters.

Jean and Gene had become well known in these competitions for working together to set up their rivals. It made it hard to find people to play with them but they were talented at coercing teams under the pretense that they promised they wouldn't do it again (of course, they still did.) This kind of situation was happening right now as they opponents, Merle and Milt, got fed up with their schemes.

"The hell with this, Merle," Milt grumbled as he stood, throwing the rest of his cards down in front of him.

His partner stood as well. "Yeah. Let's find another table, huh?"

"Game's not over, fellas," Jean pouted.

Merle scoffed. "It is for us."

She shrugged in response, reaching for her notepad where she kept score. "Oh, all right. So I'll put you down as a forfeit, then?"

"Says who?" Milt demanded.

Gene remained unphased by the other man's tone. "League rules. Walk away and you're out of the tournament."

The pair groaned and returned to their seats. Jean smirked subtly at them. "They're back."

Gene looked up at the sound of a door closing not too far away. A man clad in dark clothes lingered at the entrance and, once he met Gene's gaze, he jerked his head in the vague direction of the garage. Gene cleared his throat to get his wife's attention. Following his pointed look, she noticed the man as well. Clapping her hands against the table, she stood. "Gotta whiz."

"I'm right behind you," Gene agreed.

Merle rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Christs' sake."

"Come on," Jean waved them off, already dismissing the men as her focus turned towards their contact. "Don't get your boxers in a bunch. We'll be right back."

After they'd grabbed their coats, they followed the man out to his car. They were the only ones in the dimly-lit parking lot as most of the car's owners were still playing in the tournament. Jean's arm was looped through her husband's as they approached the seller. She introduced them: "I'm Dr. Jean Thibedeau and this is my husband, Dr. Gene Thibedeau."

"Don't need your names. Don't care who you are," the man said dismissively. He placed his briefcase on the trunk of the car and opened it. "Cash or trade, straight up."

Inside, there was all kinds of memorabilia: a promotional button that announced Kennedy's third term as president, a t-shirt that advertised the New York Olympics, which took place in the year 2000, and the item that caught their attention first— a copy of the same movie with two different actresses. That was the strange thing about these items: they were all anomalies that leaked in from other timelines.

Jean picked up the two movies and held them next to each other. "Oh, Gene, look. Love on Loan. Gene, look at the name. Hargreeves!"

"Ten grand for the pair," the seller told them.

But as Gene was studying the differences between the boxes, something else caught his eye. He moved his wife's hands gently out of the way so he could reach into the briefcase. There, tucked between If Kennedy Lived and Don't Turn Around, was a nondescript piece of paper. He pulled it free and smoothed it out against the metal surface of the car. Jean gasped in excitement at the sight that greeted them.

"That's a rare one, that is," the man commented. For the first time since they'd met, there was something besides disregard in his voice: pride. "Nabbed it off the scene of the car accident. Suspect the guy might've been going to one of those Keepers' meetings."

Jean and Gene exchanged a knowing look. This stranger had no idea that he was conversing with the founders of those meetings. Jean placed the two movies back in the briefcase in favor of their second find. "We'll take this one."

"Twenty grand, due to the difficulty of obtaining it and its uniqueness."

The husband and wife glanced at each other again, allowing trepidation to cross their features. "Best we can do is ten."

"This ain't a negotiation, pal," the seller retorted, sneering at them. "Twenty grand or fuck off."

Jean sighed but relented. Putting the birth certificate down, she pulled out a wad of cash and reluctantly handed it over. The other man snatched it out of her hand. "Good call."

As he turned away to count the money, Gene pulled the gun he'd hidden inside of his coat out and pointed it at the man. "Hey."

Just as the seller turned to look over at him, Gene pulled the trigger, claiming the briefcase and their money in a single shot.

A/n: first, an announcement: I know in the first chapter of this entire work, I said that Dolores was born in Toronto, Canada. Unlike St*v* Bl*ck*m*n, I remember my characters' backstories. However, after doing some thinking and research, I have decided to change her birthplace to Indianapolis, Indiana. We see this is where the Umbrella Academy is REALLY located in s2 when Luther goes to visit Reginald. (I initially chose Toronto because that's where it had been filmed.) It won't change the plot much but I wanted to at least acknowledge the adjustment.

As for the chapter in general, I'm pretty happy with it, although I will say that it was very emotionally taxing to write. I've never lost anyone I've truly loved so I had to listen to sad songs to get into the vibes. Compared to my other Five Hargreeves ff, this one is REALLY depressing. (But don't worry— I'm still going to write it! I just have to remember the happy ending.) Here's a good visual for what I'm talking about:

I do have a few doubts about it, specifically the scene with Allison and Five. I feel like this is something he would do if he was driven to extreme rage, but I also know how important his family is to him. Would he attack one of his siblings if given enough motivation? I hope it isn't too out of character of him for me to think so.