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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚ ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❜ ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ
ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ
ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ, ᴘᴛ. 𝟸꒱


❝ YOU'RE RIGHT. I REALLY
DON'T LIKETHE END OF
THIS STORY AFTER ALL ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

iii. [ depression ]

The second Dolores landed back in her prison, the fight left her. She was so stupid. How could she have thought that she stood a chance against an all-powerful being? She had no power. Nothing she did mattered. She could run and run, only to end up in the same place. She could throw a fit, only to have everything magically restored. She could travel Voids, only to be put back in her place— literally.

She was stuck. Five wasn't coming for her. Lila wouldn't pull through. Maybe the little-girl-god was right: her body had ceased to exist on Earth. Maybe, with that disappearance, everyone's memories of her had been erased, too. Her life had turned out to be meaningless, vanished in the blink of two apathetic eyes. What was the point of defying that anymore?

The brunette went over to the lazy chair and sat down, slumping in it so her legs stretched out in front of her. Her eyes were glassy but no tears fell; she didn't think she'd cried since the first apocalypse. She was exhausted: tired of fighting, tired of surviving, tired of everything. It would be nice to just sit and watch TV. Even though she wasn't hungry, she sort of wished she had that half-eaten pizza from her neighboring Void.

There was a faint pop.

She turned her head and, miraculously, that same pizza had appeared on the side table next to her. Huh. With one hand, she reached for a slice while the other patted the chair cushions for the remote. In her real home, it had been forever getting lost in the cracks. She located it and pressed the power button, wondering idly if there was satellite in the Void. Apparently, there was. The screen flickered to life with brilliant HD color, better than the service her parents had had.

"Rhett! Rhett, oh, Rhett!" Scarlett cried, sobbing as she fled down the stairs after the man she loved. She stopped him just as he stepped out the door, grabbing onto his wrist with two hands. "If you go, where shall I go? What shall I do?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes cold. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Rhett walked off into the misty evening, disappearing as the fog closed around him.

Dolores changed the channel.

"I've never asked a guy out before!" Rachel protested, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"You've never asked a guy out before?" Phoebe exclaimed, shocked.

"No. . . Have you?"

"Thousands of times!" the blonde declared. She paused as the words registered. "That doesn't make me sound too good, does it?"

"I don't even know how I would go about it."

Joey turned towards her to give his friend a demonstration. "Oh, oh— what I do is, uh, I look a woman up and down and I say. . . hey, how you doin'?" He gave her a suggestive smile.

--

"This tape will self-destruct in five seconds."

--

"No soup for you!"

--

"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!"

--

"The tribe has spoken."

--

"Hey, I'm Selena Gomez from Wizards of Waverly Place and you're watching Disney Channel!"

Dolores sighed as she continued to flip through sitcoms, silent films, dramas, and award-winning movies. She had to give it to the Void— it really did have every channel, from every era, genre and timeline that had ever made such media. But none of them piqued her interest enough to stay and watch more than a few lines to get the gist of the program. She wondered if she'd ever exhaust the offerings the TV had; it certainly seemed impossible as the channel numbers continued to tick upward. She'd started around -1023 but as she got into the positives, it became mostly historical documentaries.

Another admittedly impressive feat was that the costume design appeared to be incredibly accurate for each time period, at least from what she could tell. She did wish that it was a little less gory, though. Did she really need to see those cavemen kill the wooly mammoth? Or worse, did they really have to depict Mary, Queen of Scots' beheading? Why would someone think it was good to capture every aspect of the Vietnam war with such clarity, as someone who'd been there herself?

And sure, maybe one or two soldiers might've had similar features to Klaus and Dave. Even the young, teenaged girl who had no right to be in a warzone seemed vaguely familiar. But that was just because that's what people looked like during that time. Dolores quickly moved on from the Vietnam documentary, not wanting to get into that particular can of worms.

"The gods heard her cries and knew of the good she had brought to the world so one day, the goddess of life met with her in a dream. She told Ningal that if she continued to do good in the world and protect the civilizations that would come and go, the gods would lift her curse and grant her with infinite reincarnations. Ningal, in exchange, said she would agree if the gods let her live with her soulmate, the man she loved. The goddess of life agreed and gave Ningal her promised gift. However, the gods are wily beings and have schedules of their own which is why one must always remember to be very specific when asking for something. The gods gave Ningal back her soulmate but not in the way she thought they would. He was given the same gift of rebirth and she would have to search for each new century— but the catch was that he would have no memory of their past lives each time they met."

"Well, that's dumb. Couldn't she just give her gift back, then?" Five suggested and Lola was surprised that his voice was growing. . . sleepy.

She smiled slightly. "No. You must never refuse a gift from the gods. Anyway, Ningal met up with her soulmate throughout the centuries, each time patiently reminding him of how much she loved him. Sometimes they were friends immediately. Sometimes they were enemies first. Sometimes he fell in love before she did, but each time ended the exact same way: Ningal always sacrificed herself to save the one she loved for she could never let him die like that again. Of course, she didn't really die, but it started the cycle all over again. While she searched for her soulmate, she remembered her promise to the gods and did her best to bring good to the world. With each era, she began a new life with a new name and, in an ironic twist of fate, each set of parents chose a name that meant 'sorrows' or 'misfortune.'

"History often repeats itself and Ningal found patterns that helped her locate her soulmate. While they'd moved on from Mesopotamia, the man she loved had been the fifth in a family of seven. When he reincarnated, he usually had the same family set up in different parts of the world and quite often had variants of the same personality. . ."

Dolores stared at the scene that played before her. She knew that story. Those were her memories: the boy and girl were hunkered down in an old, beaten-up car while gusts of sand blasted the windows. They'd been afraid— though neither would admit it— of the glass blowing out from the force of the sand particles hitting the car. To distract themselves, Dolores had started to tell a story, though it had been under the pretense of getting Five to sleep (which he also happened to need.)

. . . So that meant the Klaus and Dave look-alike soldiers didn't just looked like them: they were them. The teenaged girl who had no right to be there had been her. She was watching her life. Her heart hammered in her chest with sudden hope. She sped through more instances of her life with the intention of going back to watch it later. The brief glimpse of Five she'd gotten urged her to rush forward to present day. She had to see him. She had to know if he'd really forgotten about her or if there was something greater at play.

Finally, she came to the third iteration of 2019. The siblings stepped out of the elevator, looking around the peaceful park in awe. Even Luther turned out to be alive; she, Allison and Sloane were the only ones missing, which was soon to be commented on.

"Hey, I don't care about any resets, alright?" Luther snapped. He marched up to Five and grabbed the front of his blazer. "I want my wife back. Where is she?"

"Your wife? What about my wife?" He took a deep breath to calm his desperate tone. "I'm glad you're alive but please take your hands off me."

His brother grabbed both sides of his jacket to heft him off the ground slightly. "Not until you give me an answer."

Five scoffed. "Okay, screw this." He tried to spatial jump but when he only managed to jolt his body, he froze. "Something's wrong."

"That's right," Luther said as he tightened his grip on the boy's jacket. "You're about to get your ass kicked."

"Yeah, kick his ass!" Diego cheered.

He glared at his brother. "No, you moron. My power. I can't blink."

Dolores' expression filled with relief. So something had gone terribly wrong on Earth. They didn't have their powers anymore; that's why Five couldn't reverse time. 

The timeline continued to play out before her. Her heart twisted in her chest as she watched his desperate, futile attempts to find her. First he went to her family's store, where he learned she'd never been born. Then he tracked down Allison who had no idea what happened to her. As he despaired, he'd relented to even going to his father, threatening bodily harm if he didn't get answers. No one had known anything about what happened to her.

She couldn't even get Klaus' help to talk to them, seeing as he couldn't summon anymore. Seeing her husband give in to grief and hopelessness was too hard for her to bear. There was nothing she could do to reassure him that she was fighting just as hard to get back to him as he was to her.

. . .But was she? Was it even worth it? He'd join her here eventually, after all. Sooner than later by the reckless path he was going down.

She tried to shove those thoughts away and refocused on the TV. Wanting to stay in the timeline but needing a different point of view, she pressed the number one button.

Luther sat hunched in a chair at the library, feverishly searching the name Sloane Hargreeves on the computer, only to come up with no results.

Two.

Diego paced in front of a pregnant Lila in a motel room. She read off flashcards while he tried to recall everything he'd need to know for his National Police Officer Selection Test. He wanted to try the Police force again, to honor Eudora's memory— and actually get in this time.

Three.

Allison and Claire were curled up in bed, the older woman reading stories to her daughter with a fond, happy smile on her face.

Four.

Klaus lost his temper at Claire during one of his more sober episodes. The sight of her wide, terrified eyes and crouched, defensive position was an eye-opening reaction: this wasn't who he wanted to be anymore. He could be the 'fun uncle'— he'd proved as much with Stan. The only way he could do that— stop hurting the people he loved— was to get clean.

Five.

Number Five stared at the probability map that covered the walls of his rundown apartment. He wasn't as put together as he usually prided himself on: his hair had grown long, stubble shadowed his face, there were bags under his eyes, he was back to nearly apocalypse-level skinny (his main diet being booze and coffee.) There was a wild, manic look to his eyes that screamed danger to anyone who was stupid enough to cross him. The apartment offered meager furniture, the main focal point being the guns of various styles and sizes that rested, gleaming, on the kitchen counter.

Six.

Ben sat on a metal chair, his arms crossed and legs spread wide in a posture that clearly said 'I don't want to be here.' There were other chairs in a circle around him, all occupied by orange-jumpsuit-wearing inmates.

Seven.

Viktor bought a bar in Nova Scotia from its aging owner, Jerry. He renovated the place, including revising the menu. A new drink was added called 'Dolores' with the tagline reading: good for heartbreak.

Eight.

Lila lay in a hospital bed with a boy and girl in each arm while Diego held Grace. She looked down at the newborns with her eyes full of love.

"So," she started casually, "we've already got the middle-name-is-a-missing-kid thing going on with Grace Stanley. I was kinda thinking we'd do that with Coco Lola— the double consonant has a nice sound to it, don't you think?"

Her husband's eyes softened at the suggestion. "Y-yeah. Better not let her hear you call her a kid, though. She'd kick your ass."

Dolores blinked, her vision suddenly swimming with tears. So they hadn't forgotten her about her. She sniffed, missing her family now more than ever. She had never meant to break their hearts— Five's most of all. If there was anything she could do to get back to them, she would. The brunette slid off the couch and moved closer to the TV screen . She pressed her fingers to it, as if the action would somehow make them feel her presence. This time, she allowed her tears to fall. They trailed freely down her cheeks as she watched her family live their lives without her, but at least they remembered her. She wasn't just a ghost in the room that no one spoke of— well, they didn't mention her when Five was around, but that was understandable.

Dolores watched their lives progress, drinking in every detail— even the unpleasant ones, like Luther losing hope with finding Sloane, Five becoming a mercenary (because why should those people get to live when his wife couldn't?) and Viktor going through women because none of them would ever be Sissy. It was around Grace's sixth birthday when things started to go to shit.

Viktor gets kidnapped, they get versions of their powers back but they can't control them, they find the town where Jennifer is being hidden, Ben goes AWOL with Jennifer, Five and Lila disappear for what seem like hours but it's seven years for them. The Keepers— a cultist group who believe in the existence of different timelines— become violent. The siblings fight to protect their reluctantly-adopted brother as he and Jennifer become a Lovecraftian horror. And. . . the world ends again as they sacrifice themselves to save the timeline.

Dolores stared at the screen with terror and outrage. "No!" she shouted at the unbelievable image. "No, it can't end this way! Five would never give up like that!"

. . .But wouldn't he? Maybe he had lost too much, was too tired to keep fighting after her death, and didn't have the strength to go on. After all, nothing mattered in the face of an all-powerful God.

But maybe Dolores was wrong. Maybe it wasn't 'nothing mattered;' it might be 'nothing mattered:' the universe could be whatever God wanted it to be. There had to be a better ending.

She used the remote to flip through other timelines. They all ended in a similar manner: fire, frozen over with ice, asteroid impact, volcanic eruption, continent-rending earthquakes. The end of a thousand worlds.

Dolores sat back on her feet as she took in the unending destruction. Sure, God was an asshole, but She didn't seem to be this violent. She didn't seem to care at all. Maybe it was because she knew how the worlds would end. That would certainly be a depressing thought: no matter how hard you tried, everything you created fell apart and there was nothing you could do about it.

But wasn't there something she could do about it? If her uncle's stories were true, she'd made deals with God before: reincarnation, soulmates, becoming human. It could be done.

It wouldn't do to have both of them despair, the brunette decided. That wasn't how her relationship with Five worked. When one faltered, the other came through. They were yin and yang, light and dark, the definition of the Olive Theory. She just wished, more than anything, that there was some way she could get a message back to Earth.

There was a faint pop.

***𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒' 𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑****
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

"Dolores" — Frank Sinatra
"Now I'm Here" — Queen

𝐢𝐯. [ bargaining ]

"You again?" God asked in a bored, slightly exasperated tone, not even turning to face Dolores. She was looking for sea shells again, her dark eyes trained on the sand before her. Her bicycle was parked up the beach, safe from the incoming tide.

"Me again," the brunette agreed. Perhaps it was her calmer statement— compared to their last interaction— that made the Girl finally straighten and give her full attention.

Her brown eyes watched Dolores with obvious dislike. "You're worse than the Anomaly."

"The Anomaly?"

"He's loud and irritating but at least he didn't try to attack me."

The teen took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. This is for Five, for your family, she reminded herself. "We need to talk."

She shrugged. "I don't want to talk."

"Fine. I'll talk, you listen."

"I don't like talking," She stated, now sounding like a petulant child. "I like playing games."

Dolores' hands curled into fists as she resisted the urge to punch the child-God in the face. She didn't want to get sent back to her living room. "How about I make you a deal, then? I'm sure it gets boring playing games by yourself."

The Girl shrugged again. "I wouldn't know any differently."

"Would you like to find out? How about this: I'll play a game with you— any game you want. While we play, I'll tell you what I came here to say. If I lose, I'll never seek you out again. If I win, you'll help me."

God studied her. The Girl's brown eyes were bottomless: All-Knowing, All-Seeing; she could See All That Is, All That Was, All That Could Have Been and All That Will and Could Be. She Knew Much; that was why she did not like The Anomaly and The Mistake: they were the only two beings whose paths she could not See. Sometimes, She wished that she Knew Less. It might be refreshing to not know how the Game would be played out— that was why She didn't like playing with other creatures; the End was determined before it even Began. But, She also did not like to Lose.

She thought about it. She knew (not Knew, but 'little-k' knew, because that was just the kind of person The Mistake was) that The Mistake would not leave her alone until she had said her piece. Listening to people talking was boring. But if she could focus on the Game instead of whatever The Mistake was telling her, She would not have to be Responsible. (Unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, God did not get Her wish all the time.)

"Very well. We shall play, and you shall talk."

There was a faint pop.

A chess board appeared slightly to their right, away from the reach of the waves. Two chairs were positioned facing each other. Dolores gestured to the board. "Would you like to be white, O Great Omniscient One?"

God seemed to take the title at face value despite her tone dripping with sarcasm. She took the offered side and Dolores sat on the other. As She made the first move, the brunette spoke: "you know how the worlds end, don't you?"

The Girl pulled a face as Dolores took her turn. "I know how they all end," God agreed flatly, nudging her white pawn forward. "Why should that matter to me?"

Dolores stared at the board, contemplating her next move. "Doesn't it get old? Knowing that no matter what you create, it all turns to dust?"

God shrugged. "It's just the way things are. Everything falls apart eventually. Sandcastles never stay up for long. That's how it always starts with you humans: they like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate."

"Maybe," Dolores conceded as she moved her knight. "But I think. . . it's because you let it happen. Not because it has to."

God pursed Her lips. "What would you Know about it?"

"I know that my family deserves a better ending than what you've given them. I know that you have the power to change things."

The Girl frowned as She moved Her bishop. "It's pointless," She said. "All timelines end the same."

"Not if you make it different this time," Dolores insisted. Her fingers hovered over a rook before she set it in place. "You can give them a chance. Let them have the lives they've fought so hard for."

For once, She looked a little frustrated. "I've tried. You saw the result."

"Maybe you have tried," Dolores countered calmly. "But you're not the only one in this universe with a will of their own. My family— my husband—they've been fighting against the odds their whole lives. And I'm still here. We're still here. Doesn't that mean something?"

"Are you still here?" She countered, almost smugly, as She captured another one of the brunette's pawns. "You're in the Void, not on Earth like you want to be. I made that happen."

"You put me here, yes. But that doesn't mean you've won," the brunette replied, copying the Girl's move and capturing one of Her pawns. "Besides, you owe me."

"Oh?"

With no pawns left to capture on the board, Dolores moved her bishop. "Don't you remember? The Council? In my past life, when I was Ningal. Or even when I was a mannequin. They— you— promised me reincarnation until I could have a happy ending with Five. This doesn't seem like a happy ending to me."

"I didn't promise that to you."

"A version of you promised that to a version of me. Do you need proof?"

God grit her teeth, looking irritated at being challenged. She pushed her rook forward. "I Know about those other timelines. They're annoying. Messy. Chaotic. It would be better if they didn't exist. This one is just as wrong as all the others."

"What if there was a Right timeline?"

The Girl let out an exasperated huff of air. "I told you—"

Dolores moved her gaze away from the board to meet the Girl's eyes, unflinching despite their bottomless depths. "You've always played alone. You said that; it's why you get bored so easily and start over. But. . . what if we made a timeline together? You may have the mind of a God, but you lack the sympathy for creation— or, should I say, evolution. I may be a mere human without power or special abilities, but I have the heart that you're missing. I Know what it means to persevere even when it seems like it's the end."

God's eyes narrowed at her use of Know. "I've never worked with a human before."

"A first time for everything," the brunette replied lightly, picking her knight up to move up-two-over-one. "Hmm, would you look at that. It's been fifty moves."

Something almost like amusement flickered briefly across the Girl's face. "You always have been a counter. It is nice to know that even Wild Cards have a constant. Very well, I will See what is Wrong with this particular timeline before I make my decision."

She lifted her hand, her pointer finger extended, until she touched Dolores' head in the space between her eyes. Her Mind fills with what the brunette has Seen.

Viktor gets kidnapped, they get versions of their powers back but they can't control them, they find the town where Jennifer is being hidden, Ben goes AWOL with Jennifer, Five and Lila disappear for what seem like hours but it's seven years for them. The Keepers— a cultist group who believe in the existence of different timelines— become violent. The siblings fight to protect their reluctantly-adopted brother as he and Jennifer become a Lovecraftian horror. And. . . the world ends again as they sacrifice themselves to save the timeline. In another timeline, where everyone gets a happy ending but the Hargreeves, they bloom as marigolds in a sunlit park.

God's finger drops from Dolores' forehead. The Hargreeves— as much as She didn't like some of them— had always been secretly Her favorite, a sort of special interest. (Especially the nice one— the tiny, dark cloud on a perfect sunny day.) All in all, this was arguably the worst timeline She has ever Seen. Finally, She announced: "you're right. I really don't like the end of this story after all."

***𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄***

In chess, the 50-move rule allows a
player to claim a draw if no pawn has
been moved or capture made in the
last 50 moves. The rule's purpose is
to prevent players from continuing
to play indefinitely if they have no
chance of winning, or from trying to
win by tiring out their opponent. It
can also save a player from losing
on time. 

A/n: although these chapters happen back-to-back, in reality they occur over the course of the six year time jump; Dolores experiences the four stages of grief in prolonged periods. (No amount of time is mentioned since the Void is timeless.) Also, yes— I DID change Diego's job to a cop in both of my TUA ffs since him being a mailman doesn't make any sense to me.