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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀ ʙʟᴀsᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ
ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ꒱


❝ [ THEY'RE ] COUSINS ON
MY ROBOT MOTHER'S SIDE ❞

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That night, Five tracked Luther down to the Carousel Burlesque thanks to his obvious from-the-future fighting name that was displayed on several newspapers that Elliot had kept. Making his way to the front row, he sat in a seat close to the stag and his eyes trained on the woman dressed in what passed for 1960s-lingerie. While his interest in her was as remote as could be, the boy did enjoy imagining his wife in her place (though he had to admit Dolores would probably never do something like that.)

A blonde woman approached him from behind and tapped his shoulder. "Now, how did you get in here? Minors aren't allowed."

Five gave her his most charming smile. "I suppose I forgot to have my ID checked at the door," he answered easily and then— to disarm her— he added, "what time do you get off work?"

Predictably, the woman giggled and relented. "Alright, I won't tell so long as you don't stay too late."

He gave her a little nod and she walked away, leaving him alone once again for a short while. The looming presence behind him indicated that Luther had gotten wind of his appearance and his brother leaned down. "I don't think Dolores would approve of you being here."

Five forced himself to remain relaxed as to not give the larger man an advantage and chose to ignore his comment. "Nice to see you too, Luther."

Luther gave him an irritated look. "What do you want?"

"For you to stop hovering like an ambitious stripper and sit down with me." He rolled his eyes and sat as the boy continued: "how long have you been here?"

"A year, thanks to you. "There was clear bitterness in his brother's tone.

Five sent him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Luther. I know that couldn't have been easy."

"I thought everybody was dead," the man snapped.

The boy sighed. "If it makes you feel any better—"

Luther's attention was captured by commotion towards the back of the bar and he stood, ready to go to his boss' aid. "I gotta go."

Five quickly grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving. "Luther, wait. Look, I get it, okay?" His voice softened. "I know what it's like to be stuck in time, thinking this is how you're gonna live out the rest of your life. On the run, not knowing if you're ever gonna see the people you love again." Here, Dolores came to mind and to resist the urge to rub at the sudden ache in his chest, his left hand went to his right wrist where the ring sat comfortingly. "And to be in an unfamiliar world. But we have to find the others because the world ends again in ten days and I have no idea how to stop it."

Luther's eyes narrowed as his brother spoke before he met the boy's gaze. "I don't give a shit," he responded bluntly before walking away to help his boss.

Five watched the man make his way through the crowd, rather surprised at how quickly he'd been turned down. Hurrying after his brother, Five caught his arm again. "The hell is wrong with you?" he snapped. "I just told you the world ends in ten days."

"Yeah, well, you're always saying that."

"And so far, I've been right."

"Look, you want to go and save the world? Knock yourself out. Hell, bring your wife along if you want to, alright? I already got a job."

The boy's brows furrowed. "Wait, you work in this shithole?" he asked. He made a concentrated effort to not react. Luther didn't know he hadn't found Dolores yet, after all.

"Yeah, well, my boss owns the place. I'm his body man."

"What's that, like a masseuse or something?" Five asked, half-joking.

"Okay, you can make fun all you want but I take good care of Mr. Ruby."

"Wait," he said. "Ruby. The Jack Ruby, the gangster who shot Oswald?"

"Yeah, the one and only," the man answered proudly.

"Well, it finally happened. That gorilla DNA has taken over your mind."

"Hey, watch it, alright?" Luther demanded. "Jack's a good friend."

"And you're Number One. Número Uno. Remember?"

"There is no Number One," his brother replied quietly. "Not anymore, not in 1963. Look, I've been stranded here, alone, for a year. What did you expect?"

"I get it, alright?" Five reasoned. "You watched Pogo die, the world exploded and I marooned your big dumbass in time. I'm sorry, okay? But I'm asking for your help, Luther."

At this point, Luther was his only option. Allison, Klaus and Vanya— not to mention the one person he desperately needed— remained evasive.

"Come on, Luther," he continued. "We need you. The Umbrella Academy needs you."

The man scoffed. "It doesn't need me. It never did."

The blonde woman returned, looking noticeably more tense. "Luther, honey, Jack's about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?"

"Ah, shit," he sighed and straightened to follow her.

Five made a last attempt. "Luther, wait—"

"Listen," his brother said. He turned around aggressively to face him. "You're the genius who said we should jump, right? You're the one who got us stuck here and you're the one who brought Vanya. So if there is a doomsday coming, she's probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell isn't gonna be with you," he finished before he stormed off.

The boy gave in and let the man go as he took a seat at the bar. His shoulders slumped slightly. While he'd never had high hopes for Luther, his rejection was still disappointing. As he commandeered a nearby beverage that someone had probably ordered, he thought that all of this would probably be a whole hell of a lot easier if Dolores were with him. He'd only managed as well as he had in the first apocalypse because she'd kept him from going crazy (thanks to his siblings, of course.) Now, without her, he could feel the little control he'd had over the situation slipping through his grasp.

Five watched as Luther escorted the rowdy man out of the bar and sighed. "Dad should've left him on the moon."

He finished his drink and stood, sliding off the stool to get down. As he did, an odd pressure against his leg made the boy slide his hand into his shorts pocket. He pulled out a square, yellow box. He flipped it over and read the name: Frankel Footage.

✧✧✧

The next morning, Five made sure to speak with Elliot as soon as possible and used his pinned pictures of the Hargreeves as a starting point. "Elliot, did you develop these photos yourself?"

"Of course," he replied. "Can't exactly drop that stuff off at the neighborhood Fotomat. Government has eyes everywhere," he explained. He used the two fingers on the hand that held his spoon to point to his own eyes.

The boy stole one of Elliot's pens and used it to scratch off the date on the box he'd found the previous night. His tone was conversational as he observed, "I didn't see a dark room in here."

"Yeah," the man said, turning slightly. "I converted the hallway closet." He paused as one of his machines crackled to life.

Five finished his task and approached the man. "Can you develop this?"

Elliot returned his attention to his guest and took the box. "Huh. 'Frankle Footage?' Friends of yours?"

"Cousins on my robot mother's side," Five replied with a half-smile before he became serious. "Can you do it or not?"

"Sure I can."

"How long?"

"Well, I mean, I'm running low on acetic acid. Beeker's Cameras is open today but it's two miles away. I mean, I'd have to take the bus," Elliot gave a rambling answer as he began to pace. "On the other hand, Gibson's is only ten blocks away but I gotta cut through the park and there's pigeons—"

"Elliot," Five interrupted him sharply.

"It's like five, maybe six hours."

The machine that had previously made noises became clear: "attention all units, we have a code 3-15 at Holbrook Sanitarium."

"The hell is a code 3-15?"

"Mmm," Elliot said, having just taken a bite of his cereal. "Fugitives on the run."

"Twenty-five patients still at large. Many are considered armed and dangerous."

"Oh, Diego."

"Who's Diego?" the man asked curiously.

Five shook his head in disbelief before he answered, "imagine Batman." He brought a flat hand up before he dropped it. "Then aim lower." He turned away from the radio. "You get started on that film. I'll be back as soon as I can."

✧✧✧

"Then why are you doing this?" a British woman's voice asked as Five blinked into the back of the stolen car.

"Because he's an idiot."

She jumped, twisting around to face him with wide eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"Hi," he gave a sarcastic wave. "I'm his loving brother."

"Who left me to rot in the nuthouse," Diego complained bitterly.

"To protect you from yourself," Five answered easily, though he added and for revenge.

"That's quite sweet," the woman stated.

"Lose the crazy lady and come with me. We have important business."

The woman frowned as Diego turned to face his brother. "I am not going anywhere with you."

Five's lips thinned as he watched a guard make his rounds. An idea formed quickly. "Okay, fine." He leaned out the window and called: "officer!"

Diego yanked him back. "What are you doing?"

"I hear there's a reward out for you two," he replied as he gave the man a smug smile.

"He's bluffing."

The man scanned the boy's face. "He's not," he said defeatedly. "Fine. I'll go with you."

"What about me?" the woman asked.

"And I'm bringing the crazy lady," he declared with a small smile.

✧✧✧

Despite still being furious with Diego for keeping Dolores' location from him, Five made a concentrated effort to steel his resolve. His reasoning was that if he didn't find his wife— a bleak, terrible prospect— then the next best thing was to stop the apocalypse so that he had time to search for her. This required him working with his brother, who would help him find the rest of his family, who would help him save the world, and thus bring him closer t to finding his wife.

So, on their return trip to Elliot's apartment, Five did his best to keep his temper in check even with his suspicions of the 'crazy lady' who just happened to show up. Upon entering the conspiracy theorist's apartment, however, they found him standing aggressively with a gun pointed in their faces. "Where did you get the film? The Frankle Footage? The truth this time!"

"You know this lunatic?" Diego asked with his eyes trained on the man.

"New acquaintance," Five sighed. "He's harmless."

"Are you sure about that?" the woman— Lila— asked.

"Are you or are you not an enemy of the people?" Elliot shouted. His gaze moved frantically between each person.

The two Hargreeves paused before they answered simultaneously: "such and open-ended question," Diego started as Five said, "really depends on the people."

The two men nodded in agreement (for once) with each other, though Elliot didn't appreciate their response. "You move one more muscle, I will blow your brains out."

"You wanna take this or should I?" Diego asked his brother quietly so the other man wouldn't hear.

"No, I got him."

The dark-haired man turned to his companion. "Hey, Lila—"

Five stepped forward before he disappeared in a flash of blue, only to reappear in front of Elliot while he pushed the gun upwards. The action caused the man's finger to squeeze the trigger and bullets released towards the ceiling. Diego reacted quickly and grabbed the gun despite the falling debris. He then removed the ammunition.

Lila stared at the pair in shock, her eyes wide as she laughed nervously. "What the hell just happened?"

✧✧✧

To keep Elliot at bay, the two Hargreeves tied him up in a chair, though not without detailed threats (Diego's knives helped quite a bit.) After that, Five found the necessary equipment and set up the projector on a table and faced it towards the wall before hooking up the machine.

The group gathered around the projector. Diego sat on the counter against the wall, Five stood behind the equipment, Elliot was tied to a nearby chair and Lila— who had somehow found ridiculously green nail polish— was painting the man's toenails. As the footage played, the recording showed an elderly couple who were trying to figure out how to use the technology which made the footage extremely shaky.

"They're so cute," Lila observed, though her eyes didn't move from Elliot's nails. "I love old couples. I'm always so proud of them for not murdering each other."

A wry smile crossed over the boy's face. She'd be sure to love him and Dolly, then. Not that he'd ever wanted to murder his wife, of course (okay, maybe once when they were younger but that was it.) His gaze remained on the film and gave nothing away. His brother— with a much lesser attention span— was already bored and was twirling one of his knives around as he looked in the boy's direction. "Why are we watching this?"

"Shush."

"'Yeah, I. . . I'm Dan Frankel and. . .'"

"'I'm Edna Frankel,'" the woman offscreen added.

"'Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas to see the president. Today's date is November 22, 1963.'"

The date caught Diego's attention and he finally pulled his gaze over to the recording. Lila stared at it as well and paused in her task. "Well, that's six days from now."

"Holy shit." The dark-haired man leaned forward. "This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy's about to get shot." Elliot squirmed in his chair at the words, though his movements went ignored. Diego turned back to his brother. "How do you have this?"

"Hazel died to get me this footage," he replied. "It must be the key to stopping doomsday."

"Hazel?"

"Long story."

"What's doomsday?" Lila asked.

"Longer story."

"What exactly did he say to you?" Diego questioned the boy.

"Well, he was killed before he could explain," Five answered, "but whatever he wanted us to see, it's on this film."

The wholesome video took a turn as the sound of gunshots disrupted the couple's words. The noise caused them to startle and the video went shaky. Around them, people screamed as they frantically tried to get away from the threat.

"'Oh my God!'" Dan Frankle's voice shouted off screen.

"Oswald," Diego noted without hesitation.

When the film finally focused, it was only for a second but that was all they needed. The figure caught on camera made Five freeze. A man he hadn't seen in decades was suddenly visible in pixelated form. Quickly, he rewound the film, half-hoping his eyes had deceived him. When he pressed play again, he paused it at the right moment and the two Hargreeves brothers stared at the figure in shock. Diego slowly rose from his seat as Five pulled the projector back to enlarge the image. His eyes were glued to familiar profile. "It can't be."

"Okay, are you gonna fill me in now, guys?" Lila asked, not understanding their reaction. "What the hell is this shit we're watching?"

"No, that's impossible," Diego breathed, ignoring her.

"Clearly it's not."

Elliot made an effort to be heard with his muffled question: "what. . . what is it?"

The pair answered in unison: "dad."

✧✧✧

"Of course dad would be involved in the assassination, I should've known!" Diego complained as Five paced.

"No, you're jumping to conclusions," he countered.

"What else is he doing standing on the grassy knoll—," the man argued. He walked closer to him and pointed at the screen. "—holding an open black umbrella on a sunny day in Dallas at the exact same moment the president gets shot?"

The boy stopped pacing to give his brother an alarmed look. "It doesn't look good, I admit."

"No, he's the signal man for the whole goddamn thing!" Diego exclaimed.

"Easy, Diego, seriously."

"No, it all makes sense. This is what Hazel was obviously trying to tell you. We have to stop dad from killing the president."

"Diego, calm down, alright?" Five demanded. "Dad was no Boy Scout but presidential assassination? It's never been his thing."

"How would you know?" Diego shot back. "You skipped out on his golden years."

"Skipped out?" the boy repeated incredulously. "Diego, you have no idea what Dolores and I had to survive to make sure we could come back and save your asses! Do you think that if I could have—" he cut himself off and did his best not to think about his missing wife. Focus. "We don't have time for this. Dad's clearly in Dallas, right? Let's just go talk to him. Maybe he can help us fix the timeline."

"Dallas is a big place," the man commented. "We need to find him first."

"Gee, if only we had some magical, old-timey way of finding people and their addresses," Five responded sarcastically.

✧✧✧

Diego thumped the book down on a table and opened it as the boy looked on. "Let's start simple, his name."

The man followed his direction, running a finger down the page of 'H' last names muttering, "Hargreeves. . . Hargreeves. . . Hargreeves. . . Shit, nothing here."

"Try his company, D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Co."

"Yeah, I know the name, thanks," Diego scoffed. He flipped to the correction section and his eyes scanned the list before they landed on the right one. "Holy shit. 'D.S. Umbrella.' Eight-two Olive. Let's go."

The pair made to walk out of the kitchen but muffled sounds came from the projector room, causing them to turn. "He okay to leave like that?"

Five glanced at the tied-up man. "Yeah, he's fine. What about the crazy lady?"

"Shit," his brother realized before he left to go after her.

✧✧✧

The car pulled up to a large white building with darkened windows. Diego shut off the engine and they sat for a moment in the silence to observe the familiar umbrella logo that adorned the entrance.

"This is it," Five said as they climbed out of the car.

"D.S. Umbrella. This is it," Diego agreed as the pair walked up the paved pathway.

The closer they got to the doors, however, the more uneasy Five became. He'd often thought about what he'd do if he came face-to-face with his father again but even with all that thinking, it never really prepared him for the actual event. He'd been dead, after all, so there'd been no chance to meet him. Now, though, slight trepidation (he refused to call it fear) made him pause feet from the entrance as his heart pounded slightly faster than normal.

"You okay?" Diego asked, noting the change.

The boy hesitated before he answered, "yeah, I'm fine. Just. . ." He looked through the doors before leaned against the wall.

"How long's it been since you've seen the old man?"

"Forty-five years."

"That's a trip."

"No kidding," he replied with a sigh. "You know, when I was stuck out there in the apocalypse, there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't hear his voice in my head."

"What was he saying?" Diego pulled out a knife and crouched down to jimmy the lock.

"I told you so," the boy said before his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Well, if dad's here, he's never met you before so he can't say 'I told you so,'" Diego pointed out. .

Five gave a quiet laugh. "I'm sure he'll find a way."

Before his brother could say anything else, he blinked away and reappeared behind the doors to open them. He held it wide enough for the man to pass. Diego stood, looking somewhat abashed. "Gotta remember that."

They walked into the dark room. There was very little décor with just the basic necessities. Catching sight of the nearby lamp, Five made to turn it on and twisted the bulb to illuminate the room. It worked for a few seconds before it flickered out. "Shit."

"I guess dad wasn't much into home décor," Diego observed.

"Feels more like a front," Five stated as he punched one of the sofas that stood against the wall.

"Well, I'll take the left. Yell if you, uh. . . get into trouble," the man told him. He opened the designated door before he disappeared behind it.

Five opened his own door which lead to a hallway with more entrances on either side. He tried the first one, which was locked, but the second was open. He flipped the switch outside and, as the room came to life, he saw a family of mannequins sitting in a mockery of a living room while the "windows" displayed fake images of suburban life.

"I wonder what he's up to," the boy muttered.

He left the room and peered into others with much the same result only with different scenarios. The last room, however, provided different information. While it still had the display of mannequins— this time with a dinner scene— there was an office desk off to the side. Passing by the children's toys that littered the space and the camera that pointed at the "family," Five approached the desk and shuffled through the papers that rested on top. The only one of note was an invitation which invited Sir Reginald Hargreeves to a party at the Consulate on the eighteenth.

The boy stuffed the paper into his shorts pocket, reminded again of his missing jacket. The thought, of course, made him think of his absent wife. A metallic clatter made him shake his head fiercely before he turned to face the noise. It continued as he cautiously approached the source and he carefully peered around the dinner table in the middle of the setup. A soft, animal-like noise sounded from the corner.

Five's expression softened as a baby chimpanzee emerged dressed in pajama bottoms. He immediately knew who it was and whispered the name aloud: "Pogo. Hey." He crouched down. "It's alright, little buddy."

He reached a hand out towards the old family friend but the chimp didn't know who he was— in this time period, at least— and screeched. He used his sharp nails to come slicing down on the boy's neck. Five cried out in surprise as his hand clasped the fresh wound. "Shit! Diego!"