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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ
( ɪғ ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ )꒱


❝ ALL I DO IS SIT AND DRINK
WITHOUT YOU / IF I
CHOOSE, THEN I'LL LOSE
/ DISTRACT MY BRAIN FROM
THE TERRIBLE NEWS ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Five had never been one for luxury. The circumstance of his life had never afforded him the chance to know any differently, not even in a house with forty-two bedrooms and nineteen bathrooms (that had been more akin to army barracks than a true mansion.) The apartment he lived in was no less shitty than when he'd first moved in six years ago. Cracking paint, floors so dusty that they could never be fully cleaned, walls that surely shouldn't have passed inspection and suspicious black patches in the bathroom that he swore had gradually increased in size. But, he tried to tell himself that it was still better than anything the apocalypse had had to offer (bar the one, glaring difference.)

He wouldn't call the place home. It was a place to live, a place to be out of the streets, a place to store his growing collection of guns and ammo, but that was it. There was nothing that would put it on the front cover of an Architectural Digest magazine; he'd only gotten the essentials: a bed, cutlery, and the means of completing a job. No, home was the one person he'd loved with his entire being and who had left. (Not of her own volition— he didn't blame her— but without her by his side, nothing in his new life mattered.)

Her absence had become made more obvious over the years. Whenever he went places— a bar, a conference, a hotel— the daily movements and sounds of other people filled the space. When he returned home from a job to his empty apartment, the silence was deafening. There was no warm smile that greeted him as soon as he opened the door. He slept in his bed alone for the first time in years. No sounds of laughter or banter filled the apartment, just his quiet breaths, even softer footsteps and the occasional clatter of chalk on the walls. (He'd once pilfered a radio from a dumpster, fixed it up with the intent to banish the silence, but the damn thing only played two songs: Dolores, by Frank Sinatra and Now I'm Here by Queen. He'd soon figured out why its previous owners had disposed of it.)

There were other things to get used to in this new life: bills. He'd never had to have a constant source of money before. He'd never needed to make monthly payments to some overbearing corporation for the basic needs to survive. He often went without water, electricity and heat simply because that was what he was used to (and what self-respecting employer would give a nine-to-five to a fifteen-year-old who had no parents or school to speak of? (Despite the fact that he was fifty-nine, damn it.)) That was what had driven him to find work that used the skills he'd already acquired. That, and the constant undercurrent of rage that they got to live while she couldn't.

He wasn't an assassin— not really; mercenary was a better description. Either way, the work was certainly more of a hassle without his powers. That had been something to get used to, especially in the first few months; he'd accidentally walked into walls and tripped over his feet whenever he'd intended to spatial jump. Over the years it had gotten easier; he managed to break the habit of jerking his body in the direction of the would-be portal, though he occasionally still forgot, leading him to be pierced with more stray bullets than he normally would've been. Five imagined the colossal scolding she would've given him, had she been there to patch him up. (He tried not to think like this; the what-ifs only made his chest ache and drove him to the bar earlier than usual.)

It hadn't changed in all this time; as the thought crossed his mind, he stood and swept up his keys from the kitchen counter. He needed a drink.

✧ ✧ ✧

Splashing water filled the public bathroom as Five held his bloodied hands under the faucet. He was lucky to have found a bar that was seedy enough to not ask questions and dim enough that it hid suspicious stains on dark clothes. Even as he concentrated on the task of cleaning himself up, he could still feel the weight of the gun in his hand— a relative comfort that he wouldn't be giving up anytime soon. His ears rang with the sound of the gun going off. He was zoned out as he methodically washed up and his vision oscillated between the sink in front of him and the board room, its previous members now slumped in their chairs as blood dripped onto the floor. He never enjoyed the work— that part hadn't changed— but he felt particularly proud of this one; all clean, neat kills and he hadn't wasted a single bullet. The jobs had gotten more challenging as he'd made a name for himself (protected by an alias, of course) and clients became more willing to pay higher amounts.

Once he'd finished getting as clean as he could, he turned off the tap, dried himself off, and left the bathroom to take a seat at the bar. The bartender nodded to him, recognizing his regular customer with a gruff 'Hargreeves.' That was another reason why he frequented this location: they weren't ones for small talk. He didn't even have to say anything as the employee set down his usual vodka.

Only the lonely
Know the way I feel tonight
Only the lonely
Know this feeling ain't right

As soon he registered the song's words, Five didn't hesitate to drink the entire glass in one swallow. The burn of the alcohol took away the sting of the words, though not the thought that even the music was mocking him.

There goes my baby
There goes my heart
They're gone forever
So far apart

Thankfully, the bartender served him another one without him needing to say anything. He wasn't much for talking these days; he didn't need to unless it was to confirm a job. That hadn't always been the case. Initially, his siblings had checked in on him when it became clear that he was spiraling. When all they'd gotten were cagey answers, sneers and glares, they backed off.

But only the lonely
Know why
I cry
Only the lonely

Every so often one or two called just to make sure he wasn't dead, but they'd been worn down on his commitment to his wife. She wasn't coming back, they all said, some sympathetically, others exasperatedly or impatiently. They thought he should move on. But that just went to show that they didn't know her as well as he did. She would never give up.

Only the lonely
Know the heartaches I've been through
Only the lonely
Know I cry and cry for you

Despite his belief, the math wasn't looking promising. He'd worked on his probability maps for years and they kept coming up with impossible answers— things that didn't make sense. Unlike how he'd tried to solve the first apocalypse, there weren't four, neat names that would give him an idea of who he'd need to kill to bring her back. The math just wasn't adding up; he never got the same answer twice. He would try again tonight, he decided. Sometimes drinking helped open his mind to new possibilities.

Then came something he didn't need a probability map to predict: the song that was currently playing speakers came to an abrupt stop, static filling the speakers like a record scratch before it suddenly changed genre and artist.

How I love the kisses of Dolores
Aye, aye, aye Dolores
Not Marie or Emily or Doris
Only my Dolores

Five groaned as the song that had been haunting him for the last three years filled the bar. He couldn't get through one song before Frank Sinatra cut in. He didn't even like Frank Sinatra. He downed his third shot, not even hesitating to have another.

From a balcony above me
She whispers love me and throws a rose. . .

As the bartender placed a new glass before him, he jerked his head to the phone, looking annoyed. "Hargreeves, you got a call. Next time, tell 'em to call at your own place; I ain't your secretary."

Confusion filled him as he nodded in thanks before he followed the man's direction. Guessing it was one of his siblings (he should never have told Viktor about his usual haunts), he grunted out, "what?"

"'Hello to you too, brother,'" Luther replied, his voice close to the speaker so he could be heard over the music in the background.

I would die to be with my Dolores
Aye, aye, aye Dolores

"I'm busy," the brunet answered shortly.

"Uh-huh. Well, hopefully you're not too busy to attend Diego and Lila's thing. Little Gracie's birthday party.'"

Five stilled, his heartbeat growing louder in his ears (blessedly covering up that blasted song.) His blood went cold at the mention of his niece. Her birth had been the last family gathering he'd attended. He'd gone, to everyone's surprise. He'd even held her— the very first child who'd gotten that privilege, which had been the problem. She had been so tiny, so fragile; he'd dashed the brains of children not much older than her with bullets from his own gun. He was a killer. She was in danger every second she was with him.

He'd left the hospital in a rush and hadn't looked back. Not even thoughts of what-might-have-been with his wife could have made him stay. In fact, it was probably for the best that they hadn't had the chance to have children. Would she really wanted to have kids with him? He was already old and tired, for one; he wouldn't have the energy to keep up with them. And, more pressing, what if he hurt his own child? She'd known the lengths he'd needed to go to get back to his— their— family; what if the child adopted his twisted mindset? It was better for everyone if he kept his distance. He was already been responsible for his wife's death; he couldn't put them in danger— he wouldn't survive it.

"I don't go to those things," he snapped. "You know that."

"'I-I know,'" Luther admitted, "'but maybe. . . maybe you could show up just this once? It would be nice to see you before your picture shows up in the obituaries. It wouldn't have to be for long. Oh! And there's going to be booze, against better judgement.'"

". . .Open bar?"

"'You got it. Whatever'll get you to come, buddy. Don't forget a gift!'"

Five made a noncommittal noise.

A voice like music, lips like wine
What a break if I could make Dolores
Mine all mine

✧ ✧ ✧

The sound of kids' excited yells grated on his ears the second he stepped through the arcade doors. He regretted coming instantly and thought about backing out, but then he would've wasted perfectly good money on the present he'd brought. He could send it in the mail like he had all the other ones, but—

"Five, you're here!" Luther's cheerful greeting cut through the pinging of video games and children's shouts. He flinched, his eyes darting to the door as the blond closed the distance between them. He was quickly succumbed to a very unwelcome one-armed hug that he wiggled free from as soon as possible. "I can't believe you actually came! Wait 'till I tell the others!"

"That's great," he muttered, straightening the wrinkles Luther's hug had put in his suit. "I'm here, alright? I was promised free booze. Can we get to that?"

Luther's grin widened. "Of course, of course. Right this way. But, uh, you might want to say hi to the others first. They're, uh—" He glanced toward the far end of the arcade, where Diego was locked in an intense game of air hockey with some of the kids and Lila was teasing him mercilessly from the sidelines. Klaus stood off to the side, in a long overcoat and surgical gloves on his hands, watching Claire carefully. Ben's back was to them as he looked through the alcohol inventory for something he liked.

Five gritted his teeth. "I'd really rather not."

But Luther wasn't having it. "Come on, man. It's family." He clapped Five on the shoulder, ignoring the scowl he received. "It's been years. You could at least say hi."

The thought of enduring awkward, strained small talk with his siblings made Five's stomach churn. He hadn't seen them— really seen them— since the day Gracie had been born. They didn't know him anymore. They didn't know what he'd become. It was better that way.

But Luther was already dragging him toward the others, his towering frame making any form of subtle escape impossible. Five sighed, resigned to his fate, and mentally counted how many shots it would take to get through the night without completely losing it.

As they approached, Diego looked up from his game, his face shifting from surprise to suspicion. "Well, well, look who decided to show up." He flipped the hockey paddle in his hand, smirking. "I thought you hated kids' parties, Five."

"I do," Five said flatly. "I was bribed."

Diego snorted. "Booze, right? That's the only thing that could drag your ass here."

"It's about time, you bitch!" Lila exclaimed, abandoning her entertainment of poking fun at her husband to clap hand down on the brunet's shoulder, hard enough to rattle him. "Here I was thinking I'd have to keep telling Gracie that her Uncle Five was off in the Arctic directing a live action version of Happy Feet."

Klaus grinned and gave him a two-fingered wave, though he didn't move from his 'safe zone' of six feet away from everyone. "Good to see you, hermano mayor. We've had to make sure that these kids were brought up on the straight-and-narrow without you."

"That's incredibly ambitious of you," Five remarked, "seeing as how her parents are bargain Batman and Mata Hari."

"Aww," Lila cooed, putting a hand to her chest as if touched. "There's the old man sass we've missed! What'd you get the little terror for her birthday? I bet it's something practical, like a grenade."

More than ready to not be the center of attention anymore, he grumbled, "I'm not that hopeless with children. It's age-appropriate."

Lila eyed him skeptically. "For a five-year-old or for you?"

"Most people would ask if there's a difference," Diego snarked, smirking at him.

Five narrowed his eyes, shooting his brother a sharp look. "Maybe I should've gotten you a muzzle instead."

"Always with the love, brother."

The brunet ignored him and looked toward the bar. "If you lot are done, where's the booze?"

Luther grinned and pointed to where Ben was still inspecting the bottles. "Over there, help yourself."

Behind him, he could feel his siblings exchanging glances but he didn't care. (At least, all except Diego, who had turned back to the air hockey game to find the kid he'd been playing against had taken advantage of his unguarded goal. His eyes widened in outrage. "You little cheat!") He was here, wasn't he? He knew they were surprised he'd shown up but also probably relieved to see him alive and well— well, as much as he ever was these days. But, he'd done his part. Now, he just wanted to disappear into the background and let the alcohol dull the ache in his chest. The ache that always grew worse in places like this: full of laughter and noise and life. Places that only reminded him of how empty his own had become.

He dropped his gift off at the present table before he headed towards the bar. As he grabbed a plastic cup and poured himself a generous amount of vodka, he tried not to think about his absent wife. About how she would've loved this— watching the kids run around, laughing at Diego's over-competitive nature, probably teasing him for being such a grump. But she wasn't here, and no amount of pretending or alcohol would change that.

Just as he was about to take a sip, a high-pitched voice broke through his thoughts. "Uncle Five!"

The birthday girl launched herself towards him, uncaring about how she barely knew her distant uncle. Instinctively, he stiffened, and for a brief second, he thought about bolting. But then Gracie wrapped her small arms around his leg in a tight hug, completely unaware of the danger he carried.

For a moment, Five didn't know what to do with himself. He stood there, frozen, looking down at Gracie clinging to his leg like he was some sort of hero, completely unaware of what he was— what he had done. His mind flashed to those cold boardrooms, the bloodstains he'd tried to scrub from his hands earlier in the bar. He wasn't supposed to be here, surrounded by balloons and squealing kids. He wasn't supposed to have anyone look at him like this.

But Gracie didn't let go. She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with excitement, completely oblivious to his discomfort. "Uncle Five! You're here! Mommy said you weren't gonna come, but you did!"

Five tore his eyes away from his niece's innocent expression and cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. . . didn't want to waste a perfectly good gift."

Gracie giggled, squeezing his leg tighter before she finally let go and bounced on her toes. "What did you get me? Is it a pony? Mommy says I can't have one but maybe you got me one anyway!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You think I'd haul a pony into an arcade?"

She stared at him, completely serious. "You could, though."

Lila sauntered over, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Gracie, honey, Uncle Five is not Santa Claus. He can't just pop ponies out of thin air."

Five shot her an irritated glance. "You're not helping."

Lila smirked but crouched down beside her daughter. "What do you say we open your presents later, okay? I'm sure Uncle Five got you something super special."

Gracie's face lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, Mommy!" She turned back to Five, her face full of gratitude that tugged at something deep within him. "Thanks for coming, Uncle Five! I love you!"

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. Love. He hadn't heard that directed at him in so long. His wife used to say it but now it was just an echo in the hollow shell of his memories. He stared down at Gracie, his throat tight, but managed a stiff nod.

"Yeah. Sure. Love you too, kid." It was a lie, or at least it felt like one— he wasn't capable of love anymore, was he?

Lila smirked at him, a look that said you owe me one as she went to go shout at some kids to behave (she was obviously loving the power trip.) Gracie beamed and skipped off, leaving Five to stand there, swirling his vodka in his cup, trying to shake off the uncomfortable knot forming in his chest. He was barely hanging on, teetering between staying and slipping out the door unnoticed. Before he could truly make a decision, Ben sidled up to him. Thankfully he didn't share the other Hargreeves' overenthusiastic response to his presence. "Five."

"Ben." Five gave a curt nod. Mostly because of his lackluster greeting, he prompted a bit more conversation. "What was it?" he asked, nodding to the man's run-down, just-out-of-prison look. "A Ponzi scheme? White-collar fraud?"

"Crypto exchange. Web three-point-oh, baby," he said proudly. "Feds only went after me because I'm an outsider. A fucking maverick like Elon."

"Well, that and you bankrupted 100,000 people," the brunet pointed out, taking a swig from his glass.

Ben scoffed. "The whole thing was a witch hunt."

"Yeah, well, say what you will. It's still good to have you back. Cheers," he offered in meager comradery.

--

It was easier to stomach the kid's party after a few drinks, their high-pitched voices blending into a mass of sound. He was left alone for awhile after Ben wandered off, but unfortunately his solitude didn't last as long as he would've liked it to. Luther came over as a part of his rounds in making sure everyone was having a good time, grinning at the physically-younger man in an attempt to lighten his mood (it did the opposite.) He joined Five in leaning against the wall of the ball pit, observing the kids running about the place.

"This isn't so bad, right?" he asked. "It could've been worse."

The brunet sighed. "Well, Luther, the night is young."

Luther shook his head, gazing wistfully at the children. "You never wanted kids of your own? Y'know, Sloane and I, we talked about it. We would've killed to have a family. If the world hadn't ended we were gonna have a boy and a girl. Or anything. It didn't matter as long as they were ours."

Five's response was guarded, a deep frown etched into his features. "I was never one for kids. Figured it'd be better if I stayed away. The apocalypse isn't the kind of place to raise them."

"Yeah, but did you and. . . well, y'know—" He broke off, chuckling awkwardly; in the little Five had been around his siblings, it had been made apparent that speaking Dolores' name was the wrong thing to do. "—ever talk about it? Do you know if she—"

Five's hand tightened around his glass as he stiffened at the question. He took another swig from his drink to prolong the need to answer, the liquid burning down his throat. "I am not talking about this with you— with anyone—"

His brother's expression softened. "Come on, man. It might help if you did. You know, not to make this all about me, but I understand better than the rest what it's like to lose the only person you've ever loved to a reset timeline."

The brunet's eyes narrowed, a sneer curling on his lips. He turned to look at Luther, his features twisted into both furious anger and deepest despair. His voice was low and slightly shaky as he growled out, "we are not the same. Wherever Sloane is, at least you know she still loves you. You didn't divorce her after decades of marriage, call her a traitor or a cheater. I didn't just lose her. I lost everything we could've been. I lost the chance to make things right, to be the man I should've been for her. And now I'm just left with the ghosts of what could've been, the memories of every argument and every regret."

He swallowed hard, adding, "all of you talk about loss like it's something you can move past. Don't you think I want to? Don't you think I'd rather not live every damn day like my heart is being ripped out of my chest? I can't. No matter how much I try to bury it, she's still there, haunting me."

Luther stared at him for a moment after he finished speaking, the weight of the other man's words settling on him. He'd known that Five was hurting— anyone with a brain would— but he hadn't realized how much. He chalked up Five letting his more vulnerable side show to the excess amount of alcohol his brother was drinking. His eyes were glassy as he gazed off into space, making it clear he didn't intend to say any more. The blond's voice was quiet and pained as he tried to give some reassurance to his brother: "Five, man, she does love you. She wouldn't have done all that if she didn't."

Five scoffed. "I loved her too, Luther, but that didn't stop me from screwing it all up. I lied to her and pushed her away when she tried to help me. It wasn't enough. If our positions were reversed, I know I wouldn't love me after everything I said." He shook his head bitterly, noting the emptiness of his cup. Patting his larger brother condescendingly on the arm, he muttered, "thanks for the talk, Albert-the-second. I need another drink."

--

At any rate, Five knew he was lucky that his siblings were so understanding. It wasn't like they were well-adjusted members of society themselves so they understood his shortcomings. (It was one of the reasons why he still loved them, even after all of their (and his) mistakes.) But, they were understanding up to a point— and that point was betraying their entire family to the man who'd made their lives hell. It was nearly time for the pinata when the other shoe dropped in the form of Allison making an unexpected appearance.

Lila had gone out to the car to get more sodas only to see her sister-in-law lingering in the parking lot, smoking her vape. They'd bonded over the years in the form of sharing childcare stories, so it hadn't even crossed her mind that bribing Allison to attend the party would have consequences (it had worked for Five, after all!) But, now as the other Hargreeves (with the exception of Viktor, thankfully) stared at their sister in varying degrees of disbelief and mistrust, she was beginning to see how wrong she was.

"You're right," she muttered to the other woman, "this is incredibly awkward.

The siblings froze as they processed her arrival. Luther was the first to recover, still in host-mode. He smiled brightly as he started forward, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Uh. . . Hey, uh, Allison! Uh. . . Uh. . . Hey! So glad you made it."

She smiled tightly in response, immediately picking up on how unwelcome she was. She felt eyes burning on her face and her gaze fell to meet Five's stony glare. Even though it had been six years since he'd showed up on her doorstep and attacked her, the raw fury and desperation she'd experienced from him was hard to forget. Evidently he still blamed her for Dolores' disappearance even though she didn't know what happened to her. Clearing her throat, Allison pulled out her best acting skills. "Just. . . thought I'd pop in and say hello." She waved the hand holding her keys awkwardly. "Hello."

"Yeah," Luther said. "Great. It's, uh, been a minute, huh? Since we've. . . Yeah."

The brunette nodded robotically. "Yeah. Um. . . Is Viktor here?"

To her relief, he replied, "no, no. He's not here yet, but, uh, he said he was coming, so. . ."

"Yeah. Okay, see you later."

--

It was much later than Five would've liked it to be, but Luther kept insisting that 'no one left before cake' (even though he didn't like sweets.) Just as he managed to slip towards the door, his arm was jerked backwards as firm fingers gripped his elbow. He turned sharply, instinctively lashing out with a punch. Lila expected it and ducked neatly, huffing in irritation at the 'attack. "You've gotten slow in your decrepit age, old man. I could've taken you out by now."

The brunet sneered at her. "You give yourself too much credit. What do you want? I was just leaving."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I stopped you, dumbass. You ever been to a book club meeting?"

Five gave her a blank look. "No, and I don't intend to start now."

"Too bad, you owe me one from earlier. Besides, I think it's a book you'll really like. It's all about time travel and whatever other powers you had that you never mastered."

"Well, at least I had powers of my own instead of borrowing them from others."

Lila smirked at him. "And yet I probably still could time travel better than you."

✧ ✧ ✧

"Alright, what the hell is going on here, Lila?" Five demanded as he followed the brunette up a narrow set of stairs. They'd driven over in her car; once they'd arrived at the nondescript building, he waited outside to let her change. When she emerged, it wasn't the sweatpants and t-shirt he was expecting; instead, she was wearing a fancy dress and had even put on make-up.

"You think I'd invite you to a real book club?" she retorted. "It's a cover. We're meeting about the Keepers, you moron."

"The Keepers?"

"You haven't heard of them? They're a doomsday cult that's obsessed with something called the Cleanse. They think that's how the world's gonna end. They're pretty much nutcases but they've got evidence that'll make you think otherwise," she informed him as they made their way to the designated room.

Five shrugged. "The name sounds familiar. I've been a bit too busy to meddle with lunatics."

Lila rolled her eyes as they reached the door, resting her hand on the knob before they entered. She pinned him with a stern look. "I have a cover to maintain and you better not blow it for me, alright? I don't care what you do, just don't draw attention to yourself and behave. And. . . don't tell Diego."

He arched a brow at that. "That's presumptuous of you that I'd agree to keep secrets from my brother. Why don't you want him to know? He'd understand. . . this." He gestured to the door.

"I'll explain later, okay?" the brunette said dismissively. "It's a special meeting tonight; the founders, Gene and Jean— lovely folks, but don't let them swindle you into playing cards with them— travel around to make presentations at different chapters. Tonight's our night. If things work out, well. . ." Lila trailed off; even she was wary of broaching those dangerous waters. "They might be the right people to ask about, uh, you-know-who."

Five's expression darkened at the mention of his wife. He didn't need Lila to spell it out for him. He'd been chasing dead-end leads for years, grasping at anything that could explain what happened to her, only to come up with nothing every single time.

"Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. "But if this turns into some creepy cult recruitment, I'm taking you down with me."

Lila bared her teeth in a savage smile. "Oh, they will. You've got that whole 'tortured loner' vibe going for you. Perfect for their brand."

He shot her a sharp look, but she just winked and turned the knob, pushing the door open to reveal an elegant but basic room, dimly lit with lamps scattered around to provide light. A projector screen was set up at one end with several rows of chairs sitting in front of it. It was fairly crowded, the other attendees dressed similarly to Lila, the men in suits or dress coats like him.

Lila's transformation into the perfect hostess was immediate. She floated into the room with a bright, charming smile, her entire demeanor shifting as if a switch had been flipped. "Hello, everyone!" she greeted with a lilting voice. "So good to see you all again!"

--

For the second time that evening, Five found himself making reluctant small talk. He'd been given a nametag just like Lila and, upon seeing her write Nancy, he came up with Jerome. He was comfortable with using a false name (more than enough people had questioned 'Five' over the years), but it was definitely something that only suspicious minds like him and Lila would come up with. The people weren't as crazy as she had made them out to be; most just talked about normal, everyday things. There were a few he encountered that spoke about odd memories that seemed like dreams and how they didn't appear to have happened in this timeline, but he could steer clear of them.

He was glad that it was only some time later that a deep voice broke through the low murmur of the partygoers: "if everyone can take their seats the presentation's about to begin."

Lila appeared by his side again and manhandled him over to some chairs, heedless of the glare he shot her way. The rest of the crowd followed suit, shuffling around until everyone had gotten comfortable. A man and woman stepped up to the podium. The brunette hissed: "that's Gene and Jean; her husband's the one with the G."

"Wow. Wowie!" the woman— Jean— exclaimed. She put her hands on her hips as she examined the crowd before her. "I mean, holy shit! Pardon my French, but look at all these beautiful shining faces. It is too much. Thank you for being here. We have a big night planned, because tonight, we will be discussing. . ." The projector lit up the screen with the title of their slideshow. "The Umbrella Effect."

The audience let out quiet gasps of awe as Five exchanged a guarded glance with Lila. Jean continued: ". . .and how I believe we can return to a restored and correct timeline." The slide switched to reveal a comic book with the title of The Umbrella Academy. Five vaguely remembered the paraphernalia that had accompanied the Umbrella's rise to fame but he'd left before it had made any impact on him. "Now, what do we mean when we talk about the Umbrella Effect? Well, some people refer to it as 'timeline sickness.'"

"These artifacts from other timelines, like the shared memories so
many of us have experienced, huh?" There was more murmuring and she nodded sympathetically. "Yup. Memories the powers that be would have you believe are just figments of our imaginations."

Gene picked up the speech as an all-too-familiar photograph appeared on the screen. "A dapper dandy holding an umbrella, standing on the grassy knoll." Pamphlets advertising Klaus' cult came next. "An obscure sex cult called Destiny's Children." Another photograph appeared, showing the Umbrellas posing in front of the bank on their first press release. "A litter of child superheroes in short pants, from which we derive the name of this phenomenon: the Umbrella Effect."

"Question is. . . who benefits from covering this up?" Jean wondered.

"The elites, of course," her husband replied. Images of Reginald and a woman around his age flicked by, most were paparazzi photos taken from a distance. "The ruling class has always been threatened by the truth. But they cannot stop the truth, now, can they?" The crowd answered with a resounding no! Gene nodded approvingly. "No, I didn't think so."

"These artifacts are proof that we're living in the wrong timelines. . ."

Certificate of Birth
[. . . ]
PLACE OF BIRTH: Indianapolis, Indiana
DATE OF BIRTH: August 1, 2004
NAME: Dolores Gimbel

The rest of Jean's speech was lost on Five. Even as more images replaced the one of the birth certificate, the words he'd just read remained burned into his mind. It couldn't be right. It shouldn't be. Five sat rigidly in his chair, his pulse hammering in his ears as the rest of the presentation turned into background noise.

He blinked, struggling to keep his expression neutral. It was impossible. His wife had never existed in this timeline and yet here it was: cold, hard evidence of her birth. His stomach churned as a wave of anger crashed over him. Years. He'd spent years searching for answers— following leads, theories, anything he could get his hands on. And now, here was something; where had this been in his most desolate moments? If he'd even had a scrap of a promise of finding her, he'd have doubled his efforts tenfold.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. This can't be real. But the sight of her name, the certainty of her existence in any timeline, sent his mind spinning.

"Five?" Lila's voice was a distant echo, cutting through the fog of disbelief.

He blinked again, forcing himself to focus. Lila was watching him carefully, her brow furrowed in concern. She'd picked up on his reaction but now wasn't the time for explanations. His hands were shaking and he quickly shoved them into his pockets to hide the tremor from her.

"What the hell was that?" he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lila followed his gaze to the screen, her eyes narrowing. "The birth certificate?"

"Yes, the birth certificate," he snapped. His heart was racing, a mix of rage and hope warring within him. "That's her. That's Dolores."

Lila's eyes widened in shock. Like all of the Hargreeves, she knew not to speak Dolores' name aloud; it had been half a decade since Five had even verbally acknowledged her existence in their presence. Hearing him say her name now, without hesitation, was jarring.

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. For once, she looked genuinely uncertain, caught off guard by the revelation. She knew she'd have to deal with the fall out if he got his hopes up only for it to be all for nothing, but she'd also spent these past years watching him suffer. Surely the world wouldn't be so cruel as to give him a shred of hope only to rip it away again?

Five dragged his eyes back to the screen. The certificate had changed, replaced by more nonsense images about the Umbrella Academy. His breath quickened. He needed answers but more than that, he needed to know if she could come back. There had to be a way to undo what had been broken; he'd made more progress in one night than he had in six years. These Keepers had to know something about what had happened to the so-called 'anomalies.'

His jaw tightened as he shot a glance at Lila. "We need to talk to them," he muttered under his breath, the urgency in his voice undeniable.

The brunette's eyes flicked to the crowd, then back to him. She nodded slowly, her usual flippant attitude replaced with something more serious. "After the presentation," she whispered. "I'll get us an introduction."

--

The rest of the presentation passed in a blur. Five forced himself to sit through it, though every instinct screamed at him to get up and demand answers. But societal pressure and Lila's nails digging into his arm held him in place, his hands still jammed in his pockets, fingers twitching with every passing slide. When the presentation finally concluded, Gene and Jean thanked everyone with the same too-friendly smiles, inviting them to stay for further discussion. The crowd began to disperse, people heading for the refreshments, while some formed small groups, excitedly discussing the theories they'd just heard.

Lila leaned over, her voice still a murmur, "alright, we'll go talk to them, but you need to be subtle. If you go in guns blazing, they'll shut down faster than you can blink. You know how these types are."

Five didn't respond. His gaze was locked on the couple, who were speaking with a small group of followers near the front of the room. He took a deep breath, forcing down the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over. Stay calm, stay focused.

Lila stood up, smoothing out her dress. "Follow my lead."

She approached the couple with the same casual charm she'd used earlier, weaving through the clusters of people with practiced ease. Five followed a step behind, his hands still clenched, his jaw tight. As they neared, Gene spotted them and gave a welcoming nod.

"Well, if it isn't our favorite guest, Nancy!" Gene said with a wide smile. "Enjoy the presentation?"

Lila grinned, the perfect picture of enthusiasm. "Oh, absolutely! It was fascinating. I've heard bits and pieces about the Umbrella Effect before, but hearing it all laid out like that— it really makes you think."

Five barely registered the conversation. His mind was still on that birth certificate, still trying to process what it meant. He needed to hear it from them, needed them to confirm that Dolores had existed and that they knew more.

Jean tilted her head, eyeing him with mild curiosity. "You're new. Who's your friend, Nancy?"

The brunette gave them another blinding smile. "This is my cousin, Jerome. You know how it is— everyone has one of those crazy cousins that no one likes to talk to, and he happens to be mine. I thought he'd benefit from attending one of these meetings; turns out he wasn't as crazy as we thought."

Five glared at her. Gene nodded along as if he understood. "Yes, we all have one of those. Did you have any thoughts on the presentation, Jerome?"

It took a second for the physically-younger man to realize he was addressing him by the fake name he'd given. He forced a tight smile. "Yeah. Interesting stuff." His voice sounded hollow, unable to even pretend to be interested in their drivel.

Lila shot him a warning glance but smoothly continued, "we actually wanted to ask you something. Jerome here has been dealing with some, uh, anomalies in his own life— things that don't quite add up. We were wondering if you had any advice on how to investigate that kind of thing. Maybe something tied to the Cleanse?"

The brief question of 'what the hell's the Cleanse?' crossed Five's mind as he'd missed the rest of the presentation, but he quickly dismissed the thought in favor of watching the couple's reaction. Gene's expression shifted slightly, his smile fading as he glanced at Jean. There was a brief flicker of understanding between them, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Jean's warm smile returned, though there was a sharpness behind it now.

"Oh, anomalies are tricky things," she said smoothly. "They can be very personal. Usually they come in the form of memories, but they can be. . . well, more tangible."

"Like people?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

Jean's eyes flicked to him, her expression unwavering. "Sometimes. Why do you ask?"

Five had never been one for subtlety and his patience was already wearing thin from his niece's birthday party. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "There was a birth certificate. Dolores Gimbel. Born in 2004." He paused, trying to keep the desperation from seeping into his voice. "But she's gone now. Erased. I need to know how— if there's a way to fix it."

The air around them seemed to thicken as Gene and Jean exchanged another look, their expressions unreadable. Jean's smile softened, turning almost sympathetic. "Ah, I see. You've lost someone."

"What do you know?"

Gene cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. "Jerome, we understand your pain, truly. But some things are. . . irreversible. When anomalies are corrected, they're not meant to be undone. The Cleanse is a natural process— one that restores balance."

The brunet took a step closer, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "I'm not interested in your theories. I need to know if she can come back."

Jean shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, but once someone is erased from the timeline, they're gone. The Cleanse ensures that."

✧ ✧ ✧

"Five, I'm sorry," Lila began, speaking with uncharacteristic softness as if she were trying to console her own child. They sat in a mostly empty restaurant, which the brunette had hauled him off to after he'd stalked out of the presentation.

He didn't meet her eyes, keeping his gaze focused on the plate of food in front of him. He wasn't hungry and it looked entirely unappetizing in the face of the news he'd just received. Five's voice was void of emotion as he replied with a shrug, "it's nothing I shouldn't have expected. I've always known getting her back wouldn't be easy and that just. . . fell into my hands. I'm fine."

She clearly didn't believe him, but it wasn't like he was actively trying to convince her. Her words were bracing when she spoke next: "look, those Keepers don't know everything, yeah? I mean, they are doctors, but they got laid off from their university when they started spouting all that nonsense. The evidence of artifacts from different timelines showing up just proves that there's holes in their theories. It's possible the old man's reset didn't take and maybe. . . maybe people are gonna start showing up next. Ray already has, didn't he? And he was way gone in the last timeline. Maybe she'll come in with Sloane and Sissy."

"That sounds like a whole lot of conjecture to me," the physically-younger man muttered. "I'm telling you, it's not going to be that straightforward. If it was, I'd have answers by now. Look, whatever this is, don't say anything to the family just yet. We don't need to give them the same false hope, alright? Not even Diego."

"Absolutely not," she agreed with surprising ease, "I've gotta keep my book club cover under wraps."

Although he didn't care as much as he had a few hours ago, Five would never miss out on an opportunity to give Lila a hard time. In a marginally less apathetic tone, he pointed out, "that's right. You were gonna tell me why you're hiding all this from Diego."

She sighed. "Let's just say the transition from full-time assassin to full-time caregiver to three small children is no picnic. I needed to get outside the house. I saw a sign and took a chance. It's cheaper than therapy."

"Well, at least you never took marriage advice from me," the brunet said heavily. "All I know how to do is screw it up."

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day, Five was woken by the ringing of his landline— the one piece of technology he owned— to be used for emergencies only, as he'd told his siblings. The repetitive noise drilled into his skull, making him groan as he felt a headache coming on. When he shifted to get out of bed, the clink of glass made him looked down. He shoved a few of the empty alcohol bottles out of the way and stumbled out of his room to get the phone. He patted the area around where he knew it was haphazardly until his hand landed on the device. Yanking it from its stand, he put it up to his ear and grunted out a, "hello?"

"'Well, good morning to you too, sunshine! Actually, it's good afternoon,'" Luther greeted him in a too-cheery voice. "'Anyway, I'm calling a family meeting at my place— it's important.'"

"I guess I'll just drop everything and stop by," the brunet snarked; it was never too early in the morning (or afternoon, he supposed) for sarcasm.

They ended the call shortly after that as Luther said he had to get in touch with the rest of their family. Five was glad, at any rate, that his older body could hold alcohol better than when he'd been younger; it took quite a bit of drink now to put him into the state Luther and Diego had found them in at the public library. He was able to pull himself together enough to be presentable and made his way to his brother's apartment.

Of their siblings, Allison had the best housing accommodations, followed by the Hargreeves-Pitts household and Viktor's cabin. Even Klaus had better arrangements as he lived in his sister's basement. But he, Luther and Ben (prison-era, at least) had fared the worst, having the least amount of experience with 'normal life.' The Umbrella's Number One didn't actually live too far from Five's apartment, being in the same shitty neighborhood. But, he had put in a lot more effort to fix it up nicely. (Well, nicely was a relative term.) It could barely fit all of them together, as squished in as they were. They certainly didn't have enough space to sit on the ratty, threadbare couch that now served as Ben's bed.

"Okay, Luther," Five said shortly, "we're here. What is it?"

The blond man stood before them holding a single sheet of paper that showed evidence of once being creased into thirds. He looked down at it to read from it word-for-word. "It says, your brother Viktor has been kidnapped. Follow my exact instructions and no harm will come to him."

Allison took the note from him. Five looked around at the group. "Alright. Any idea on who might be behind this?"

"My money's on you-know-who," Luther offered.

"Dad?" Klaus asked in disbelief, his voice a little muffled from the mask he was wearing. "Come on. Dad didn't kidnap Viktor. He doesn't give a shit about us."

Diego leaned over to his wife to mutter, "it just really hurts when family stabs you in the back." He addressed his siblings in a louder voice: "we can handle this. I mean, who's the team that stopped three apocalypses?"

"Yeah!" Luther agreed enthusiastically.

Five glanced in his brother's direction. "We're not exactly a team anymore, Diego."

Ben lifted the cup of tea he'd made prior to their arrival in a mock toast. "Or ever were."

"Then there's the whole 'no powers' thing," Lila reminded them.

"No. I don't care," the blond insisted. "If Viktor's in trouble, I'm in, right?" He pointed to Diego for confirmation.

The man in question shot a look in his wife's direction before he answered, prompting her to wonder, "what are you looking at me for? I'm not your mother."

He grinned. "I'm in."

"Yes!"

"Okay," Allison broke in, knowing how off-track they could get. "Now what?"

Luther looked at the paper again. "It says we're supposed to meet at Sy's Dry Cleaning on 5th Avenue."

"Perfect. Let's roll."

"Yeah!" Luther said, mimicking his brother's determined attitude.

✧ ✧ ✧

Nobody questioned how or why Five had acquired a gun as he pulled it out while they approached the dry cleaner's, they merely filed behind him and let him take the lead. They entered the building cautiously, noting how strange it was for it to be completely empty, the lights turned off and the racks full of clothes despite it being within the timeframe of normal working hours. Of course, the Hargreeves' compliance didn't last long and soon the group fanned out around the place to look for their brother.

Klaus, now wearing a full gas mask to cover his face, hissed, "guys! Can't you smell that? This place is a chemical wasteland."

Diego's flashlight fell on a lone chair that sat in the middle of the room, occupied by a very familiar figure, his head covered by a black bag. Luther hurried over to him and pulled it off. "Hey, there he is. Looking good, buddy."

Viktor squinted at them as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The second Hargreeves smirked at him. "Couldn't make it to your niece's birthday?"

"Well, I was on the way, and then I got kidnapped, so. . ." he trailed off and gestured to his bonds. "Do you guys wanna untie me, or. . ."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

As Luther and Ben freed him, a new voice spoke from the recesses of the room, prompting Five to lift his gun in its direction. The person's words came out shaky and unsure as he stepped into the beam of the flashlight. "I apologize if my methods are a little crude but this is my first kidnapping."

"Yeah, no shit," Five muttered, his stance never wavering.

"I need your help," the man stated plainly.

The brunet eyed the weapon in his hand. "Well, kidnapping our brother and pointing a gun at us isn't gonna buy you much goodwill."

"It was the only way I could make sure that you came here. All of you. I couldn't leave anything to chance. Especially when it comes to. . . the Umbrella Academy."

Diego shook his head. "No one's called us that in six years."

Five, who hadn't moved from his defensive position, agreed: "sorry, pal. The Umbrella Academy doesn't exist."

"Um. . . Okay, but. . ." the man nervously set his gun down, his entire hand shaking enough to nearly drop it rather than set it on the table. "Okay, but. . . just. . . can-can you explain this, then?"

They stared at the newspaper article he held up. The main image was of Viktor (before he transitioned) and Diego, both of them on a stage holding guitars with amps on the floor nearby. A banner hung above them that read Prime-8s. The story title read: 'THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY' SUPERHEROES PERFORM IN CONCERT.

Diego looked at the paper uncomprehendingly. "When the hell did we have a band? And why am I blond? But, most importantly, why would our genre be punk rock?"

Five ignored his brother's questions. In fact, he only vaguely listened to the man's stuttered explanation of how he'd gotten all of this timeline paraphernalia. He'd zeroed in on the container that sat innocently on top of the rest of the junk: about the size of a mason jar, filled with glowing, golden particles.

✧ ✧ ✧

He had expected his siblings' protests, which he ignored until they changed to an argument about where to have a family meal in celebration of 'saving' Viktor. It was only once they were seated at the hibachi table that Ben brought up his decision again. "We didn't sign up for this, Five, so why did you take the big box of shit?"

The man in question leaned down and shifted through the stuff to find the jar that had caught his eye. He placed it on the table with a faint clink. "What I'd like to know is how the daughter of some random dry cleaner ends up with a jar of marigold in the trunk of her car."

Diego was justifiably doubtful of the container's contents. "How do we know that's not just a jar of glow stick juice?"

"Why don't you take a sip and find out, tough guy?" Ben challenged him.

"I will if you will."

Lila shut that particular train of thought down quickly. "Don't even think about it."

"Okay, for the sake of discussion, let's say this is legit. Does anyone here want their power back?" Five asked. "Majority rules."

He was torn on the decision himself. On the one hand, when had his powers done anything good for him? (Well, with exception of letting him meet his wife.) But, on the other hand, if he could time travel again, he might be able to go back to a point where she did exist. He could jump through timelines until he found her instead of living this paltry existence— which wasn't really living at all, not without her.

In the end, his opinion didn't matter; Ben was the only one who was enthusiastic about taking the Marigold, much to his disappointment. He threw his traditional tantrum when he didn't get his way, stomping off with the claim of going to the bathroom. The group took his brief departure as the signal to break up for the night. They were all standing and pushing in their chairs when he returned, unexpectedly more chipper.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey!" he objected over the sounds of their goodbyes. "Where's everyone going? We haven't even gotten to the steak yet!"

"Party's over."

"No! No!" he insisted as a waiter came out, bearing a tray of shot glasses. "Okay. One last shot, on me. For old time's sake. Please!"

Five thought he should've suspected something was up from Ben's unusual politeness, but he was more than ready to go back to his apartment. He still had his killer headache from that morning and didn't have the energy for an argument. Besides, the thought of the Marigold sitting there in the box so unceremoniously— a promise of getting back to his wife— was tempting him more than he'd like to admit. But, as the oldest of the group, he did feel the need to hold himself to a certain standard. He'd agreed to majority rules, so that's how it would stay. It would be easier once the Marigold was out of sight; he could put it out of his mind, too.

The Asian man went for who he perceived as the weakest link, trying to convince Klaus to take part. Despite the sibling's defense of his sobriety, they all ended up giving in. Ben nodded at them with apparent gratefulness. "Thank you. Okay, then. Here's to the nonexistent Umbrella Academy! Kanpai!"

"Kanpai!" They echoed, simultaneously taking the shot together, oblivious to the effects it would have on their lives in the next twenty-four hours.

A/n: sorry for the wait! Hopefully this extra-long chapter makes up for it :) There's a few things that I want to clarify (it's pretty long so if you want to skip it, please just read the first paragraph):

1. I'm really happy that everyone is looking forward to my plot for this season (I am too!) but I'd like to manage your expectations: I'm not doing a complete overhaul. That's a lot of work and would take more time than I have available or motivation than I actually have. I will be fixing my biggest issues with s4 (fivela 🤮, their careers, Klaus being sex trafficked (which added absolutely NOTHING to the plot) Lila's parents being alive, Ray leaving Allison, the ending, etc.) but most of the minor plot points will be the same. Now that you have an example for how the rest of the episodes will go, I just don't want to disappoint anyone too much if someone was expecting bigger changes than what I've already mentioned.

2. The first glaring inconsistency I saw in this season was when they confronted Sy Grossman and he had the Eiffel Tower article. Clearly the writers thought they were being "cool" by alluding to the comics, but they chose the worst way to go about doing this. In s1, the Eiffel Tower mission is mentioned twice: there is a newspaper clip on a wall of the Hargreeves mansion that's about this very event. Also, in s1 e8 when Claire asks Allison for a bedtime story, Allison first tells her the one about the museum, then, when Claire wants a second one, she whines "I wanna hear the one about the Eiffel Tower." (And sure, the picture that goes with the article is different, but they could've chosen a better reference over all.) That's why I changed the article to the reference about Viktor and Diego's band.

3. One thing I didn't understand why it was a thing were all the comments about Diego's weight when he didn't show any signs of having a stereotypical 'dad bod.' In the CIA fight, he was clearly just as fit as he has always been, so I decided to take out the "fat jokes" since they didn't make sense to me and added nothing to the plot (they didn't show Diego struggling with fighting or with his athleticism.)

4. I also didn't like basically any of the jobs they chose for the Hargreeves; none of them really seemed to fit their characters. My other Five fanfic, The Peter Parker Effect, goes into more detail about the changes I made, but here are my HCs: Luther starts out as a stripper, but either becomes a preschool teacher or firefighter (in this book it's the latter; the "loud music in the background" during his first phone call with Five were his coworkers listening music too loud in the station.) Diego is a cop (obviously.) Allison tries acting but finds that she doesn't like it without her powers, so she eventually owns a very successful hair salon. Five isn't in the CIA; either he's retired or a mercenary. Ben is the same since he's the only one I feel fits, as well as Viktor still has his bar. I kept it purposefully vague in this fanfic but you can imagine that those are their jobs instead.

5. If I remember correctly, I didn't write anything about Allison's SA on Luther in s3. Since the show talks about it exactly zero times and the characters show no trauma/regret about it, I'm just going to pretend like it never happened, and all of the awkwardness around Allison is because she betrayed her siblings. If Luther showed any unease around her at all in response to that, I totally would cover it as that's something important that I wouldn't want to write out, but it adds nothing to either of their character arcs over all. I hope you guys are okay with my decision on this since I know it's a sensitive topic (if you do want it to be more impactful to the plot, again, I cover more of it in my other Five fanfic.)