Umbrella Academy fic: Thicker Than Blood (2/13)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
-o-
It didn’t go off without a hitch, but then, these things never do. His family was all scared of consequences and mistakes and whatever -- but that was life in the field. It was messy by nature, almost by design. If you were afraid of a little mess, then saving people wasn’t the right business for you.
That wasn’t to say that Diego didn’t learn a few things. First, his response time was slow. It took him longer than he remembered to get changed, and sneaking his way out of the house had been a pain. His car needed a tune up, and he was pretty sure that the rattling of the engine didn’t make stealth something in his wheelhouse. The car was old and built to last. He’d installed bulletproof windows and reinforced the doors. That thing was indestructible.
When it was running.
He made a mental note to have it looked at when he got back. He could pass off car maintenance as his hobby when his siblings asked what he was up to. It would work.
As for the rest, well, that wasn’t exactly perfect either. He managed to get around the cops, but when he finally got inside, he found the clerk had already escaped and the perp was a quivering mess. Diego had been ready to use force, but at the merest suggestion that this could end peacefully, the perp dropped his gun and nearly threw himself, sobbing, into Diego’s arms.
Thankfully, Beaman had responded to the call, so when Diego came out with a sobbing kid, he knew not to shoot. It was hardly the dramatic save Diego had been hoping for, but it felt pretty good when Beaman shook his hand afterward.
“This is off the record, of course,” he said, starting to grin. “But I’m glad you’re back.”
Diego grinned back, trying to remember the last time he’d felt this alive. Probably back when he was stopping the apocalypse and saving the world. The high wasn’t exactly the same, but it was as close as he’d gotten in months.
“Don’t worry,” he assured the detective. “Because I’m glad to be back, too.”
-o-
Back at the Academy, they hadn’t even noticed he was gone.
That figured, didn’t it?
Diego went off to save the world, and they were so wrapped up in themselves that they didn’t even notice. Not that Diego was doing this for praise, but it did drive home the point of how self absorbed the Hargreeves were.
That was just as well, Diego said as he cleaned his gear and laid it out for another use.
That made it even easier for him to keep being the hero he was meant to be.
-o-
Diego didn’t have strong objections to lying. True, his secret identity as a vigilante had been a poor kept secret among the police force, but it wasn’t like he went around telling everyone his business. After all, it was his business. Withholding information didn’t have to be petty or vindictive, which is the way his father had played it. Sometimes it was just a practicality.
There were some things that just didn’t need to be known. Simple as that.
So not telling his siblings that he was patrolling the streets in his free time wasn’t really a big deal. They had told him, multiple times now, that they had their own things to attend to. As far as Diego could tell, this was an apt compromise to let them do what they needed while Diego did what was right.
It worked, more or less.
Except for as much as the city needed Diego, apparently his siblings did too. They always wanted his help or his advice with pointless things. Could he help with the dishes? Did he know how to fix the security camera running from the front porch? What did he think about the rats in the cellar? Did he want to have dinner with them?
Diego did what he could, but sometimes he picked his places. Mom always got an affirmative. Five, too, since he so rarely asked. Allison was a yes only when she asked sufficiently nicely, and no one could ever say no to Ben. He tended to give Vanya the benefit of the doubt, seeing as the White Violin was still a new thing and Diego didn’t want to risk the end of the world because he didn’t want to go to a concerto next weekend. Luther was always a flat out no by default, though sometimes Diego found ways to agree without agreeing if he thought Luther might have a point.
And Klaus was complicated.
Klaus had always been complicated, though. Diego was at least used to that. Because he was always asking for shit and Diego was always saying no. Yet, without fail, Diego still found himself doing Klaus bidding anyway. If he might have hoped this was something that changed with sobriety, Diego would have been wrong. Instead, sobriety had merely given Klaus the means to emotionally manipulate every situation to his benefit.
And you better believe that he did just that. Not malicious; not Klaus. It was just a second nature to him, probably a defense mechanism for being Number Four without any discernible value in the field growing up. Psychologically, it made sense.
Practically, it was annoying.
That was how Diego ended up driving Klaus to an AA meeting on a Tuesday afternoon. He had been retreating to his room after lunch to listen to the scanner when Klaus had intercepted him. Diego had tried to rebuff him but five minutes later, there they were, sitting in Diego’s car, pulling out of the garage.
Klaus beamed. “This is so nice of you,” he said. “I would walk, I would. But it’s a long walk, you know? And it goes through a few questionable neighborhoods. Well, not really questionable unless you know the right alleys to turn down, and I do. I really do. And I don’t want to go down them, but it’s a temptation, and I just think -- I don’t need that. I don’t.”
Diego scowled at him as he pulled the car onto the street. “That’s the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Uh, no, it’s not,” Klaus said. “I know I have given you a lot worse excuses. Remember when I said that I was scared of the dog in the corner house?”
“Yeah, the pit bull,” Diego said.
“That dog is the sweetest thing in the world,” he said. “I’m not scared of it at all.”
Diego gave him a deadly side eye. “You lie to me?”
“It’s a creative interpretation of the truth,” Klaus said. “I am scared of the dog because if I see the dog then that means I’m walking and ugh, I hate walking.”
Diego turned a corner with a roll of his eyes. “You need to get your license.”
Klaus lit up at that. “I know! The AA meetings are a part of that,” he said. “I mean, according to my parole officer from my last drug conviction. It’s weird, isn’t it? How we go back and change the world but we can’t even fix the stupid things in our own lives?”
Diego pressed his lips together and purposefully tried not to think about it. Being unable to prevent Patch’s death in the amended timeline was one of the biggest sticking points he’d had in the aftermath. Five had tried to explain the math to him, but all Diego had heard was shitty excuses for why the woman he loved couldn’t be saved when the rest of the world could.
“Anyway,” Klaus continued, lackadaisical. “The process is probably good for me, right? Getting sober. 12 steps. I mean, I’m on step six. I’ve never been past step two before and I’m on six!”
Klaus was annoying, but that was actually good news. He dipped his head in something of a concession. “I think the meetings are good for you,” he said. He shot Klaus a look. “But so is walking. You could count it as part of your training.”
He was joking, of course. And he wasn’t joking, of course. At all.
Klaus laughed anyway. “But I am training. So much!”
Diego did not attempt to hide his skepticism. Given the number of times he’d bailed Klaus out of jail, there was no need to pretend. “I see no evidence of that.”
Klaus rolled his eyes in the most dramatic fashion possible. “Well, it’s not physical training, obviously. But then, my powers aren’t exactly physical now, are they?”
It was clear that Klaus thought this an adequate, even a good, defense. Diego’s skepticism increased tenfold. “All the more reason to focus on the physical side of things,” he said. “In a fight, you’re going to need well honed physical skills in order to compensate for how out there your powers are.”
“Uh, who needs well honed physical skills when you can manifest the dead to do it for you?” Klaus asked, and it was his turn to be skeptical. “Also, did you know I could levitate?”
This perked Diego’s ears. It wasn’t often that any of his siblings said anything related to actual combat that made any difference to him, but the power to levitate could play nicely into a field game. “Really?”
“I think so, or I might,” Klaus clarified, sounding a little sheepish now. “I mean, it’s possible that I just got vertigo and fell down the stairs but I fell really slowly and I swear that I hovered before I hit the ground because there wasn’t a mark on me.”
Diego’s hopes died as quickly as they had been kindled. “You think telling me you fell down the stairs is going to convince me you’re field worthy?”
“Well, no,” Klaus said. “But then who said I was trying to be field worthy? Honestly, I’m just trying to be sane enough to keep Ben around without plunging myself into a depressive episode that can only be self medicated with alcohol and stimulants. Lots and lots of stimulants.” He seemed to sigh a little at the thought. “Ugh, are we there yet? I really, really need AA today.”
Diego wasn’t trying to be submissive of Klaus’ drug cravings, but frankly, he didn’t give a shit about the drug cravings. At least not now. Minding Klaus was an exhausting and often full time job, and Diego didn’t have the time or energy for such shit anymore. “You’re aiming too low.”
Klaus’ eyebrows shot up. “I’ve been on drugs since I was 13, if you’ll recall,” he said. “I think staying sober is aiming as high as I can.”
“Sure, but sobriety isn’t the endgame,” Diego said, stopping the car at a stoplight. “It’s a means to an end.”
Klaus frowned. “Yeah, no, pretty sure it was the endgame,” he said. “I mean, the original endgame was to see Dave, and then the endgame was to keep Ben around, but AA has helped me see that sobriety in and of itself is of personal importance to me. It is the only way I can embrace the real me, live my full life.”
The light turned green and Diego grimaced. “That’s the shit you tell yourself to stay sober,” he said. “But you’re doing that for a reason.”
Klaus looked a little taken aback. “You really do want me to be out there as part of the team, don’t you?”
The question was genuine, but it was so utterly inconceivable that Diego made a face. “Well, sure,” he said, not sure how this was in doubt at all. Wasn’t this what they were trying to do? Wasn’t this the point? Wasn’t this why they were all still here?
Those were the assumptions Diego had been working with, but with a sideways glance at Klaus, he was struck with the fact that he might be the only one.
Klaus hedged. “Despite the fact that I show absolutely no proclivity toward combat,” he said.
Diego scoffed outright. “You fought in Vietnam!”
“Because I was in love! No one said I was any good at it,” Klaus countered.
“Dude,” Diego said, but he was mentally reeling now. The constant foundation of his life coming back had been to rebuild the Umbrella Academy. To fight as a team on their own terms. But the terms didn’t work if the others didn’t want to do their duty. His look to Klaus was incredulous as he navigated the traffic. “You manifest the dead and levitate and who the hell knows what else. With you, we are even more versatile than ever as a team.”
It was sound logic. Confident, resounding and reassuring.
And utterly unconvincing. “Life is more than a fight, Diego.”
Diego slammed on the brakes as they pulled up to another stoplight. Diego felt his face flush, the emotion getting the better of him now. “But fighting is what we can give back to the world.”
“Well, maybe,” Klaus said with a one-shouldered shrug. “But I’m sober for the first time, like, ever. I’m starting to think about other things I can give.”
The light changed and Diego started on the gas again. He pursed his lips, hands tight on the wheel. “Hopefully not your scarves.”
Klaus’ mouth dropped open. “Hey!”
Diego shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
Klaus was not mollified. If anything, the slight against the scarves had offended him more than anything else. “Well, I’m just saying: you’re a wee bit narrow minded.”
“No,” Diego said, turning on his blinker as he turned a corner toward the church where Klaus met with AA. “I’m focused.”
“Yeah, focused is another way of saying narrow minded. Or addicted, if you prefer.”
Diego pulled into the lot and took the first spot. “You’re full of shit today, Klaus.”
“I’m full of shit everyday, dear brother,” Klaus said as Diego killed the engine. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Diego drew the keys from the ignition. “Of course you’re wrong,” he said. “You can’t say that someone is an addict just because they know what’s most important and refuse to compromise.”
“No, but you can call someone an addict who is so obsessed with a singular thing that they literally can’t relax without that thing,” Klaus said. “Like you. Calling all your family meetings about the Umbrella Academy. You. Locking yourself in a room with a police radio. You. Trying to get us to train and to work--”
“Because that’s what you have to do!” Diego exploded now. “You all sit around like it’s just magically going to happen!”
“We’re just living our lives for the first time ever,” Klaus said. “I’m sober. Vanya’s special. Luther isn’t on the moon. Allison is honest. Ben’s dead, but he’s able to manifest more now, and Five’s still a crazy bastard, but he hasn’t talked about world destruction in, I don’t know, at least two months.”
Diego shook his head. “I’m not saying that having a hobby isn’t good--”
“But they’re more than hobbies,” Klaus said. “They’re life! We’re living!”
“For what?” Diego asked. “You being sober -- it’s cool and I’m proud of you, but what’s next? And Vanya. She’s got her powers, but she’s just going to sit around and play the violin? And Five, no matter what you say, is still locked in is room writing shit on the wall instead of getting out there and saving the world.”
“Does everything need a reason?” Klaus asked.
Diego’s eyes almost goggled. “Yes!”
Klaus sighed, like he was a little disappointed. “That’s what an addict would say.”
Diego groaned, slumping back against the car seat. “Whatever, man. Just go to your stupid meeting.”
“I’m serious, though,” Klaus insisted.
Diego grunted his disapproval. “Yeah, seriously annoying.”
“You have to recognize unhealthy habits,” Klaus ventured.
Diego glared at him. “Wanting to help people isn’t unhealthy.”
Klaus eyes were big and more earnest than ever. Asshole. “It is if you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”
“There can’t be wrong reasons!” Diego all but shouted at him.
Klaus held up his hand, as if in surrender. “Just consider -- just for a moment -- that, I don’t know. You do you, just for a little bit. Take some time, get to know yourself. Like the rest of us.”
“And if me doing me is saving people?” Diego asked him.
“Well, maybe you don’t know yourself very well,” Klaus suggested. “I mean, I get it. Number Two. Knife throwing. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. You’re the difficult type to love--”
“Get the hell out of the car,” Diego said.
“But if you try, Diego, just try--”
Diego unsheathed a knife. “Get out of the car or I swear to God--”
Klaus fumbled with the door, opening it and stumbling out. He leaned down before closing it. “You’ll pick me up in an hour?”
Diego rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”
Klaus smiled at him broadly. “So that’s a yes?”
-o-
That night, Diego was so restless that he could barely sit through dinner. Mom had made it this time, though, so he felt obliged, and she really did make a good roasted chicken and her mashed potatoes were to die for. He ate three servings just to see her smile.
His siblings spent their time talking and sharing stories. Vanya’s rehearsals and Luther’s new security cameras and Allison’s visitations and Five’s incongruent stories about how he still didn’t have a normal appetite from years of scavenging in the apocalypse. Klaus talked about how well AA went today, and Ben was reading a new book and it was all nice and well and good.
Needless to say, Diego excused himself as soon as he could.
“What about dessert?” Mom asked.
Diego paused to smile at her. “I’ll come down for it later, Mom. I promise.”
She brightened.
Diego, for that instant, was tempted to stay. For her sake, for his own. Hell, for the rest of them, too.
But that police scanner was upstairs. His gear was pressed and ready. Diego felt the need to move too strongly now, far too strongly to stay still any longer.
“I promise,” he said.
He’d do it later, he reasoned as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Later, when he had time. Later, when his work was done. Later.
-o-
It was just as well that he didn’t stick around for dessert. When he flipped the police scanner on, he found the perfect all almost immediately.
Robbery. Armed suspect fleeing on foot. No more than three miles away.
If he moved now, Diego could intercept and catch the guy.
If.
Hell, no.
When.
-o-
Diego made excellent time. His renewed training regimen now included mission prep, and he’d refined his times back to normal operating procedures. Since he knew the area so well, he was able to take his car on a few of the less known alleyways, and he caught sight of the chase no more than ten minutes after the initial call.
Chase was a general term. The force was out in full, actively canvassing. Diego had to turn off the main roads to avoid a roadblock, and he used his expansive knowledge to estimate how far the perp could make it and then he used his intuition to deduce the most likely path of escape.
Some would call it luck, but Diego didn’t believe in luck. He believed in his own skills, so when he veered off, navigating a few blocks back away from the barricade, he had no doubt. He made a turn into another side street, and his headlights landed on a form. It scurried out of the way, but Diego recognized the nature of the movement. Evasive.
He stopped the car, rolling down the window.
“Hey!” he called, one hand on the wheel while the other pulled out his favorite knife. “Hey, you!”
The figure turned back, short, pale skin, blonde hair. Red hoodie and ripped jeans. Matched the description to a t.
“Hold up!” he called.
The figure moved quickly, firing off two quick shots at Diego. The guy was quick on the draw but his aim was shit. One bullet dinged the hood and another nicked the windshield. He was as well fortified as a tank, however. It didn’t do shit.
Diego grinned.
The other guy had shot first.
Which meant when he threw his knife?
It would totally be self defense.
The guy raised his gun to fire again. The shot went wide, but Diego’s knife found its target perfectly. It landed, hard and deep in the upper right shoulder. High enough to disarm the guy and deep enough to keep him from running, but not enough of either to kill him.
The guy cried out, gun clattering as he fell to his knees. Diego got out of the car, engine still running, as he crossed over.
“Shouldn’t have run,” he said, kicking the gun a little further from the man’s reach. Diego shrugged, pulling out a zip tie. “Still, I’m kind of glad you did.”
The man seethed obscenities, but he squealed in pain as Diego tied his hands together. Another ziptie secured his feet. The bag of money and belongings was nearby, proving the man’s guilt plain enough.
“Now, stay there,” Diego said, looking the guy in the face and pulling the knife back out. The man let out an agonizing scream and Diego patted him on the head. “And the cops will be here in time to keep you from bleeding out.”
It was a damn good exit. It was damn good work. Diego wiped the blade of the knife clean as he made his way back to the car. He sat down in the driver’s seat, watching as the man heaved for air. He sheathed the knife and got his gun out.
Beaman, present for you on Gerald Street. You’re welcome.
He smirked as the message went through, waiting just long enough for the sound of sirens to approach. As the lights came round the corner, Diego was already gone.
Dinner with the family was nice. Dessert with mom would be amazing.
But this?
Saving people?
That was the shit that mattered.
-o-
He lingered, even if he didn’t have to. He parked just outside the police tape, close enough to see but far enough to be ignored. Beaman was the first on scene, naturally, so while he looked at Diego’s car, he did not dispatch an officer to try to take his statement.
Beaman had his hands full anyway.
He made the arrest; he recovered the stolen items. Thanks to Diego, an open case was as good as closed.
Diego stayed long enough to watch the guy be loaded into an ambulance, Beaman riding alongside him. When he finally made his way home, he thought about it to himself.
His siblings had no idea what they were missing.
-o-
Back at home, it was nearly midnight when Diego made his way in. He was careful to stow his supplies in a back, making a note to do an extra load of laundry to clear up all the blood before anyone noticed in the morning. He came in through the back way, padding lightly through the house, stopping in the kitchen to snag a drink.
Crime fighting was hard work, thank you very much.
When he flicked on the light, the room was empty, but he noticed a plate on the table. There was a generous piece of chocolate cake with a note.
Missed you for dessert! Hope this hits the spot. Cold milk is in the fridge. I can make you brownies tomorrow.
Mom’s impeccable cursive was easy enough to recognize.
Diego looked at the cake, laid out just for him and chewed his lip. He had promised her he’d be back, and he knew that she had to charge at 9 PM sharp. He knew that when he promised, and he hadn’t even thought about it out there. There were priorities, after all. In the field, you couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Still, the thought of mom cutting the cake and waiting for him was not an image he liked. Guiltily, he drew out the glass of milk and sat down, forcing himself to eat and drink the entire thing. On the back of the note, he scrawled his reply.
Best cake ever. You’re the best, Mom. Sorry for missing you -- rain check until tomorrow. Brownies sound great.
He put the dishes in the sink and left the note next to Mom where she was charging in front of the hall of pictures. He stayed for a moment, watching her. For all that had changed, she had always been the same. A constant in an unsteady life. Leaving the Academy had been easily. Leaving his siblings had been doable. Leaving her?
Well, it had nearly killed him.
But he was back now.
He was here.
And just because he was running side jobs on his own didn’t mean he intended to go anywhere. He could do both; he could. He could play the hero, and he could still be part of the family.
It didn’t have to be a contest, after all. It couldn’t be. How could you compare the two? A criminal behind bars and your mother? That shit didn’t have to parse. Besides, Mom would understand. Of all of the idiots in this family, Mom would always understand.
He consoled himself with that thought as he made his way up to bed.
And he fell asleep so quickly that he didn’t have to think about whether that was a good thing or not.
-o-
It got harder to hide.
The late nights were one things. The blood in the laundry room was another. Fortunately, Diego spent a lot of time playing with knives so no one thought it was unusual that he spent so much time sharpening them, but he did leave a mask lying around from time to time.
His siblings noticed, of course, but they didn’t want to notice so it didn’t come to anything. That was the thing about his siblings: ignorance was bliss.
All the more reason for Diego to play the hero.
If they wanted a reprieve, then he’d happily give it to them.
-o-
Another night out; another round of saves. He stopped a domestic incident from escalating. He made sure a drunk woman didn’t shoot up a liquor store. Nothing spectacular, but two saves in one night. Diego was getting his groove back on.
It would only get better from here.
-o-
So he never went to breakfast anymore, and he found reasons to skip out on dinner. Klaus asked to train and Diego was too sore so he made up an excuse. Luther wanted to talk a communication system, but the details were too boring. Allison asked about upgrading the suits, which sounded like a good idea, but Diego couldn’t think about it right now. Five had some thoughts about the mathematical breakdown of their powers in combat, but the math made Diego’s head hurt and he’d been up way too late last night to bother.
“Another time,” he said.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he suggested.
“You get on that and let me know,” he said.
Another week gone and Diego realized that the dessert with Mom was still pending.
Priorities, though. He had to remember his priorities.
He kissed Mom’s cheek when he got in late again.
Saving people trumped everything.
He lingered, a hand in her hair before turning away to head up the stairs to bed.
Even family.
-o-
The pattern was easy enough to establish.
By day, he was your average family man.
By night, he was the city’s crime fighting vigilante.
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. The nights he had down, but they got longer and longer. One night he didn’t get back until 3 AM. His family didn’t ask; Diego didn’t tell. It was what it was.
-o-
Then, one night, a case was harder than anticipated. After ending up in hand to hand with a pack of thugs, Diego was pretty sure he had two cracked ribs and a black eye. He could bind the ribs himself well enough, but the black eye was going to be a problem.
When he rolled out of bed around 1 PM the next day, his siblings did notice.
“Training accident,” he told them with forced indifference. “Not that any of you would know.”
“Hey, we train!” Klaus objected.
“We have been picking it up,” Luther said.
“A lot,” Allison added.
“We find that training is better during the daylight. You know, when people are actually awake,” Five quipped.
Diego grunted but didn’t argue.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” Vanya asked.
“It’s just a black eye,” Diego said. “It means I’m doing something right.”
He let the implication linger. They weren’t dumb, his siblings. They would understand the insult well enough.
“Whatever,” he said, getting off the couch and going back to his room. “I have some shit to do anyway.”
They watched him leave, he was pretty sure. He couldn’t be positive, though.
Because Diego didn’t look back.
-o-
When he got to his room, he closed his door. With a sigh, he flopped on the bed and regretted it. His ribs ached with fresh intensity. When he caught his breath, he opened his eyes to look at the ceiling.
Instead, Ben stared back at him. He was frowning.
“Shit,” Diego said. “Don’t you knock?”
Ben shrugged. “That’s a lot to ask for someone who’s noncorporeal.”
Diego huffed, levering himself up as best he could without wincing. “Well, give a guy some heads up,” he muttered. “It’s called privacy.”
“Uh huh,” Ben said, and he stood back, eyeing Diego critically. “Pretty sure that’s code for keeping secrets.”
Diego made a face of offense. “What?”
“We’re Hargreeves,” Ben reminded him. “Secrets were part of the deal. One of the many parts I hated.”
Diego settled himself back against his pillow, trying to look comfortable even if he didn’t feel that way. “Are we really going to play the who had the shittier childhood game?”
“No,” Ben said. “I don’t care about the past. Right now, though, seems pretty important.”
Diego groaned. He was too tired for Ben’s self righteous thing. “I’m too tired to play your vague guessing games. If there’s something you want to say, then you might as well say it.”
Ben shrugged again. “I’ve got nothing to say; I’m not the one keeping secrets.”
“It’s not keeping secrets,” Diego said. “It’s called living my life. I don’t anyone getting their panties in a twist every time Vanya plays a new song or Five starts an equation. If you want to talk about problems, then let’s address Klaus’ growing stockpile of yarn.”
Ben was not amused -- and undeterred. “You’re not training at night.”
Stubbornly, Diego crossed his arms over his tender chest. “How do you know? When Klaus is sleeping, you’re not here.”
“Klaus is an insomniac. I’m up a lot.”
Diego scowled. “So, I’m out and about? That’s not a problem.”
“You’re doing your thing again, aren’t you?” Ben said. “You’re playing superhero.”
“Oh, whatever--”
“I saw you in the mask last night,” Ben said.
Diego closed his mouth.
Ben tipped his head. “I should tell the others.”
“Then do,” Diego said. “Like I said, there’s no secret.”
“Then why do it like that?” Ben pressed. “At night, in dark.”
“Because that’s when a lot of shit goes down,” Diego said. “It’s logic.”
“No, logic is waiting for the rest of the team,” Ben said.
“I tried. No one was ready. You all kept telling me, so I stopped asking,” Diego said.
“And decided to do it yourself?” Ben asked.
“Why not?”
Ben’s look was longsuffering. “It’s dangerous.”
That rationale was almost laughable. In fact, it was laughable. Diego would have laughed more if his ribs didn’t hurt so damn much. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Ben wasn’t laughing, however. “What you’re doing is reckless.”
This time, Diego went ahead and rolled his eyes. It was like listening to the old man lecture him about how to be careful, how to be smart. A lot of shitty ways of telling him to follow orders more like Luther, which was about the only order he could never abide by. “I’m not an amateur at this,” he said. “I’m good at what I do.”
He had hoped his statement would stand for itself, but Ben’s skepticism suggested otherwise. “You’re not that good. If you were, you wouldn’t have ended up with a black eye and broken ribs.”
Like Ben was one to criticize, being dead and all. Diego was an asshole, but even he had his limits -- at least where Ben was involved. It was one thing to eviscerate a living sibling, but a dead one? Well, Diego had to draw his line in the sand somewhere.
Without the obvious insult off the table, he settled for petulance instead. “Whatever.”
Such tactics had never worked with their dad. It had only served to piss him off, which was why Diego had resorted to it so often. Ben wasn’t their dad, however. The flippancy had the frustrating effect of making Ben even more earnest.
Which, for the record, Diego would not have thought possible, but there Ben was, practically pleading with him. “You can’t put yourself at risk like this.”
Diego made a sweeping gesture with his hand in frustration. “I have to! I mean, you, of all people, should get why it matters to save a life.”
“Of course I do, but you can’t save everyone -- that’s the horrible truth of it,” Ben said.
“But if we work harder, maybe we can save more,” Diego said. “Just think about it. If we’d been focused the way we’re supposed to be, we could have saved you.”
“My death was one hundred percent preventable,” Ben said. “But the only way you could have saved it? Was by not being superheroes.”
The logic was infuriating. He shook his head. “That’s not how it works, dude. You can’t hide your head in the sand, pick and choose. Not when you have the powers we have.”
Ben wrinkled his nose. “That’s exactly how it works. All we do is pick and choose. Even with your police scanner, you pick and choose. And helping one person means you’re not helping someone else. Acknowledging that is sanity, not ignorance.”
“So we can’t save everyone,” Diego relented. “But it’s up to us to pick the greater good.”
“And why isn’t the greater good family?” Ben asked. “Maybe the right thing is to pick family.”
Diego’s mouth puckered sourly. “That’s bullshit.”
Ben was unyielding. “No, that’s love.”
It was a dividing line. It was a difference of opinion that had no middle ground. Ben didn’t get it; Ben didn’t understand. Diego wasn’t going to beat his head against a wall on a fool’s errand. Not when it had already been beat up enough in one day.
He sighed. “Are you going to tell them?”
Ben managed to look mature and responsible. The fact that he was ethereal probably gave him an unfair advantage in most things outside of breathing and physically interacting with the world at large. “Am I going to tell them that you’re running around stupidly on your own at night, wearing a mask and looking for new ways to nearly get killed?”
If Ben was hoping to make Diego sheepish, he was going to have to keep hoping.
Exasperated, Ben huffed. “No, I’m not going to tell them,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you should. It’s not like they’re not going to figure it out anyway.”
“Uh, well, they haven’t yet,” Diego reminded him. “They’re all busy, remember? Doing pointless shit?”
It wasn’t the most diplomatic response. “Diego--”
Ben was gearing up for some kind of lecture, for some kind of important point, for some kind of emotional climax and whatever. Diego didn’t have the patience for it right now. Maybe ever. His emotional capacity had been expended thanks to his family for the next ten years. No wonder he wanted to go throw knives at people.
“Just don’t, okay?” he said. “Everyone else around here gets to do whatever the hell they want. They get to wait until they’re ready. I have to be all deferential to their shit, so why not mine? Why can’t I do what I need to do? Why can’t I wait until I’m ready?”
“You can,” Ben said. He cocked his head, eyebrows up. “But the real question isn’t when. It’s why. Why aren’t you ready? Why are you keeping this from us?”
Ben clearly had spent too much time thinking since he died. That was probably an unfortunate side effect of death. When you couldn’t interact with the world, of course you would be prone to self reflection. But really. “Because you’re all annoying enough to try to stop me,” he said. “And maybe I’m just having fun. Without you or your blessing. Maybe I’m having fun.”
He said it with anger.
At Ben’s look, Diego realized belatedly that he’d said it without certainty, however. “Yeah,” Ben said with a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe you are.”
With his point made, Ben disappeared through one of the walls. It was a dramatic exit in every way, but that didn’t make Ben right. It didn’t.
Of course, it didn’t make Diego right, either, but whatever.
Okay?
Diego closed his eyes with a grunt.
Whatever.
-o-
Diego hadn’t intended to nap, but he was tired. He probably would have slept all day if not for the tenderness of his ribs. Every time he moved, they were jarred and he woke up again. Around dinner, he gave up entirely and decided to humor his family by showing up for a meal.
Besides, Ben had said he wouldn’t tell, but Ben was dead and the Hargreeves could be convenient liars when he situation arose. Diego trusted his siblings with his life. That was, consequently, about the only thing he trusted them with.
Also, he was hungry. If he didn’t have a good meal, he’d never make it through the night.
So, you know how it was.
Priorities.
-o-
Dinner was a necessity, and for all the shit Dad had put them through growing up, he had never been stingy with food. Pogo made sure they ordered all the best ingredients, and Mom was programmed to be an impressive chef with an unparalleled knowledge of how to create food that was flavorful and nutritious. Honestly, of all the things he’d missed when first moving out of the house, the cooking had been the hardest thing to live without.
So if he had to endure his family’s pointless chitchat to consume a good meal, then that seemed like a fair trade off. Besides, it wasn’t always bad. There were times when Diego liked hanging out with his siblings.
This wasn’t one of those times.
Halfway through, Diego was bracing himself against the table to stabilize his ribs while doing his best not to yawn wide enough to attract attention. His siblings, for their part, were talking about nothing.
No, they were talking about everything.
Just nothing important.
“I know Dad never wanted strangers in the house, but we’ve got so much space. It seems silly to let it go to waste,” Vanya was saying. “A studio would be perfect so I could practice without bothering anyway, and by conducting lessons there, we could easily make a little extra income.”
That was, of course, a security risk.
“It wouldn’t be too hard to create a hard barrier, fortified for security reasons,” Luther reasoned.
“Also, there’s some sense in keeping ourselves closer to home,” Allison said. “Not that we should be recluses here or anything, but the most vulnerable times are transit.”
That was a major allowance, and it presumed that they wanted to maintain a normal schedule without regard to the demands of the Academy.
“And I like it,” Klaus said with some enthusiasm. “I like that we’re trying to mix things a bit more, you know? So it’s not all business, all the time. Dad was always running this like we were soldiers or something, but we can be people now, right? People and superheroes?”
“I was thinking that we needed to create shifts anyway to monitor both security and possible incoming cases,” Five added. “There’s seven of us, and to think that we all need to be on duty all the time during non-emergent situations is superfluous. It would be a waste of valuable resources.”
Diego made a face. Wait, what were they saying?
Vanya smiled brightly. “So you really think it’s a good idea?”
No, it was a terrible idea, but before he could open his mouth, Ben glared at him from across the table. It would figure, wouldn’t it? The dead brother was the only one with an ounce of awareness.
“We think it’s a great idea,” Luther said, as if he spoke for everyone. His siblings looked contented enough to reinforce the notion. Apparently, Diego’s thoughts were irrelevant.
It was just as well; it was their loss. It was sure as hell ironic, then. That Diego, who hated their father more than any of the rest, was the only one to fulfill the destiny he’d determined. On his own terms, however. Only on his own terms.
He shoveled another bite of food into his mouth and looked down at his plate. If they didn’t want his opinion, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to be obliged to share it, and Ben could shove off for all Diego cared. Let them build studios. Let them earn money on the side. Let them do whatever they wanted for whatever reasons they deemed suitable.
They would do their things.
Diego would do theirs.
It was probably better off this way.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
-o-
It didn’t go off without a hitch, but then, these things never do. His family was all scared of consequences and mistakes and whatever -- but that was life in the field. It was messy by nature, almost by design. If you were afraid of a little mess, then saving people wasn’t the right business for you.
That wasn’t to say that Diego didn’t learn a few things. First, his response time was slow. It took him longer than he remembered to get changed, and sneaking his way out of the house had been a pain. His car needed a tune up, and he was pretty sure that the rattling of the engine didn’t make stealth something in his wheelhouse. The car was old and built to last. He’d installed bulletproof windows and reinforced the doors. That thing was indestructible.
When it was running.
He made a mental note to have it looked at when he got back. He could pass off car maintenance as his hobby when his siblings asked what he was up to. It would work.
As for the rest, well, that wasn’t exactly perfect either. He managed to get around the cops, but when he finally got inside, he found the clerk had already escaped and the perp was a quivering mess. Diego had been ready to use force, but at the merest suggestion that this could end peacefully, the perp dropped his gun and nearly threw himself, sobbing, into Diego’s arms.
Thankfully, Beaman had responded to the call, so when Diego came out with a sobbing kid, he knew not to shoot. It was hardly the dramatic save Diego had been hoping for, but it felt pretty good when Beaman shook his hand afterward.
“This is off the record, of course,” he said, starting to grin. “But I’m glad you’re back.”
Diego grinned back, trying to remember the last time he’d felt this alive. Probably back when he was stopping the apocalypse and saving the world. The high wasn’t exactly the same, but it was as close as he’d gotten in months.
“Don’t worry,” he assured the detective. “Because I’m glad to be back, too.”
-o-
Back at the Academy, they hadn’t even noticed he was gone.
That figured, didn’t it?
Diego went off to save the world, and they were so wrapped up in themselves that they didn’t even notice. Not that Diego was doing this for praise, but it did drive home the point of how self absorbed the Hargreeves were.
That was just as well, Diego said as he cleaned his gear and laid it out for another use.
That made it even easier for him to keep being the hero he was meant to be.
-o-
Diego didn’t have strong objections to lying. True, his secret identity as a vigilante had been a poor kept secret among the police force, but it wasn’t like he went around telling everyone his business. After all, it was his business. Withholding information didn’t have to be petty or vindictive, which is the way his father had played it. Sometimes it was just a practicality.
There were some things that just didn’t need to be known. Simple as that.
So not telling his siblings that he was patrolling the streets in his free time wasn’t really a big deal. They had told him, multiple times now, that they had their own things to attend to. As far as Diego could tell, this was an apt compromise to let them do what they needed while Diego did what was right.
It worked, more or less.
Except for as much as the city needed Diego, apparently his siblings did too. They always wanted his help or his advice with pointless things. Could he help with the dishes? Did he know how to fix the security camera running from the front porch? What did he think about the rats in the cellar? Did he want to have dinner with them?
Diego did what he could, but sometimes he picked his places. Mom always got an affirmative. Five, too, since he so rarely asked. Allison was a yes only when she asked sufficiently nicely, and no one could ever say no to Ben. He tended to give Vanya the benefit of the doubt, seeing as the White Violin was still a new thing and Diego didn’t want to risk the end of the world because he didn’t want to go to a concerto next weekend. Luther was always a flat out no by default, though sometimes Diego found ways to agree without agreeing if he thought Luther might have a point.
And Klaus was complicated.
Klaus had always been complicated, though. Diego was at least used to that. Because he was always asking for shit and Diego was always saying no. Yet, without fail, Diego still found himself doing Klaus bidding anyway. If he might have hoped this was something that changed with sobriety, Diego would have been wrong. Instead, sobriety had merely given Klaus the means to emotionally manipulate every situation to his benefit.
And you better believe that he did just that. Not malicious; not Klaus. It was just a second nature to him, probably a defense mechanism for being Number Four without any discernible value in the field growing up. Psychologically, it made sense.
Practically, it was annoying.
That was how Diego ended up driving Klaus to an AA meeting on a Tuesday afternoon. He had been retreating to his room after lunch to listen to the scanner when Klaus had intercepted him. Diego had tried to rebuff him but five minutes later, there they were, sitting in Diego’s car, pulling out of the garage.
Klaus beamed. “This is so nice of you,” he said. “I would walk, I would. But it’s a long walk, you know? And it goes through a few questionable neighborhoods. Well, not really questionable unless you know the right alleys to turn down, and I do. I really do. And I don’t want to go down them, but it’s a temptation, and I just think -- I don’t need that. I don’t.”
Diego scowled at him as he pulled the car onto the street. “That’s the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Uh, no, it’s not,” Klaus said. “I know I have given you a lot worse excuses. Remember when I said that I was scared of the dog in the corner house?”
“Yeah, the pit bull,” Diego said.
“That dog is the sweetest thing in the world,” he said. “I’m not scared of it at all.”
Diego gave him a deadly side eye. “You lie to me?”
“It’s a creative interpretation of the truth,” Klaus said. “I am scared of the dog because if I see the dog then that means I’m walking and ugh, I hate walking.”
Diego turned a corner with a roll of his eyes. “You need to get your license.”
Klaus lit up at that. “I know! The AA meetings are a part of that,” he said. “I mean, according to my parole officer from my last drug conviction. It’s weird, isn’t it? How we go back and change the world but we can’t even fix the stupid things in our own lives?”
Diego pressed his lips together and purposefully tried not to think about it. Being unable to prevent Patch’s death in the amended timeline was one of the biggest sticking points he’d had in the aftermath. Five had tried to explain the math to him, but all Diego had heard was shitty excuses for why the woman he loved couldn’t be saved when the rest of the world could.
“Anyway,” Klaus continued, lackadaisical. “The process is probably good for me, right? Getting sober. 12 steps. I mean, I’m on step six. I’ve never been past step two before and I’m on six!”
Klaus was annoying, but that was actually good news. He dipped his head in something of a concession. “I think the meetings are good for you,” he said. He shot Klaus a look. “But so is walking. You could count it as part of your training.”
He was joking, of course. And he wasn’t joking, of course. At all.
Klaus laughed anyway. “But I am training. So much!”
Diego did not attempt to hide his skepticism. Given the number of times he’d bailed Klaus out of jail, there was no need to pretend. “I see no evidence of that.”
Klaus rolled his eyes in the most dramatic fashion possible. “Well, it’s not physical training, obviously. But then, my powers aren’t exactly physical now, are they?”
It was clear that Klaus thought this an adequate, even a good, defense. Diego’s skepticism increased tenfold. “All the more reason to focus on the physical side of things,” he said. “In a fight, you’re going to need well honed physical skills in order to compensate for how out there your powers are.”
“Uh, who needs well honed physical skills when you can manifest the dead to do it for you?” Klaus asked, and it was his turn to be skeptical. “Also, did you know I could levitate?”
This perked Diego’s ears. It wasn’t often that any of his siblings said anything related to actual combat that made any difference to him, but the power to levitate could play nicely into a field game. “Really?”
“I think so, or I might,” Klaus clarified, sounding a little sheepish now. “I mean, it’s possible that I just got vertigo and fell down the stairs but I fell really slowly and I swear that I hovered before I hit the ground because there wasn’t a mark on me.”
Diego’s hopes died as quickly as they had been kindled. “You think telling me you fell down the stairs is going to convince me you’re field worthy?”
“Well, no,” Klaus said. “But then who said I was trying to be field worthy? Honestly, I’m just trying to be sane enough to keep Ben around without plunging myself into a depressive episode that can only be self medicated with alcohol and stimulants. Lots and lots of stimulants.” He seemed to sigh a little at the thought. “Ugh, are we there yet? I really, really need AA today.”
Diego wasn’t trying to be submissive of Klaus’ drug cravings, but frankly, he didn’t give a shit about the drug cravings. At least not now. Minding Klaus was an exhausting and often full time job, and Diego didn’t have the time or energy for such shit anymore. “You’re aiming too low.”
Klaus’ eyebrows shot up. “I’ve been on drugs since I was 13, if you’ll recall,” he said. “I think staying sober is aiming as high as I can.”
“Sure, but sobriety isn’t the endgame,” Diego said, stopping the car at a stoplight. “It’s a means to an end.”
Klaus frowned. “Yeah, no, pretty sure it was the endgame,” he said. “I mean, the original endgame was to see Dave, and then the endgame was to keep Ben around, but AA has helped me see that sobriety in and of itself is of personal importance to me. It is the only way I can embrace the real me, live my full life.”
The light turned green and Diego grimaced. “That’s the shit you tell yourself to stay sober,” he said. “But you’re doing that for a reason.”
Klaus looked a little taken aback. “You really do want me to be out there as part of the team, don’t you?”
The question was genuine, but it was so utterly inconceivable that Diego made a face. “Well, sure,” he said, not sure how this was in doubt at all. Wasn’t this what they were trying to do? Wasn’t this the point? Wasn’t this why they were all still here?
Those were the assumptions Diego had been working with, but with a sideways glance at Klaus, he was struck with the fact that he might be the only one.
Klaus hedged. “Despite the fact that I show absolutely no proclivity toward combat,” he said.
Diego scoffed outright. “You fought in Vietnam!”
“Because I was in love! No one said I was any good at it,” Klaus countered.
“Dude,” Diego said, but he was mentally reeling now. The constant foundation of his life coming back had been to rebuild the Umbrella Academy. To fight as a team on their own terms. But the terms didn’t work if the others didn’t want to do their duty. His look to Klaus was incredulous as he navigated the traffic. “You manifest the dead and levitate and who the hell knows what else. With you, we are even more versatile than ever as a team.”
It was sound logic. Confident, resounding and reassuring.
And utterly unconvincing. “Life is more than a fight, Diego.”
Diego slammed on the brakes as they pulled up to another stoplight. Diego felt his face flush, the emotion getting the better of him now. “But fighting is what we can give back to the world.”
“Well, maybe,” Klaus said with a one-shouldered shrug. “But I’m sober for the first time, like, ever. I’m starting to think about other things I can give.”
The light changed and Diego started on the gas again. He pursed his lips, hands tight on the wheel. “Hopefully not your scarves.”
Klaus’ mouth dropped open. “Hey!”
Diego shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
Klaus was not mollified. If anything, the slight against the scarves had offended him more than anything else. “Well, I’m just saying: you’re a wee bit narrow minded.”
“No,” Diego said, turning on his blinker as he turned a corner toward the church where Klaus met with AA. “I’m focused.”
“Yeah, focused is another way of saying narrow minded. Or addicted, if you prefer.”
Diego pulled into the lot and took the first spot. “You’re full of shit today, Klaus.”
“I’m full of shit everyday, dear brother,” Klaus said as Diego killed the engine. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Diego drew the keys from the ignition. “Of course you’re wrong,” he said. “You can’t say that someone is an addict just because they know what’s most important and refuse to compromise.”
“No, but you can call someone an addict who is so obsessed with a singular thing that they literally can’t relax without that thing,” Klaus said. “Like you. Calling all your family meetings about the Umbrella Academy. You. Locking yourself in a room with a police radio. You. Trying to get us to train and to work--”
“Because that’s what you have to do!” Diego exploded now. “You all sit around like it’s just magically going to happen!”
“We’re just living our lives for the first time ever,” Klaus said. “I’m sober. Vanya’s special. Luther isn’t on the moon. Allison is honest. Ben’s dead, but he’s able to manifest more now, and Five’s still a crazy bastard, but he hasn’t talked about world destruction in, I don’t know, at least two months.”
Diego shook his head. “I’m not saying that having a hobby isn’t good--”
“But they’re more than hobbies,” Klaus said. “They’re life! We’re living!”
“For what?” Diego asked. “You being sober -- it’s cool and I’m proud of you, but what’s next? And Vanya. She’s got her powers, but she’s just going to sit around and play the violin? And Five, no matter what you say, is still locked in is room writing shit on the wall instead of getting out there and saving the world.”
“Does everything need a reason?” Klaus asked.
Diego’s eyes almost goggled. “Yes!”
Klaus sighed, like he was a little disappointed. “That’s what an addict would say.”
Diego groaned, slumping back against the car seat. “Whatever, man. Just go to your stupid meeting.”
“I’m serious, though,” Klaus insisted.
Diego grunted his disapproval. “Yeah, seriously annoying.”
“You have to recognize unhealthy habits,” Klaus ventured.
Diego glared at him. “Wanting to help people isn’t unhealthy.”
Klaus eyes were big and more earnest than ever. Asshole. “It is if you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”
“There can’t be wrong reasons!” Diego all but shouted at him.
Klaus held up his hand, as if in surrender. “Just consider -- just for a moment -- that, I don’t know. You do you, just for a little bit. Take some time, get to know yourself. Like the rest of us.”
“And if me doing me is saving people?” Diego asked him.
“Well, maybe you don’t know yourself very well,” Klaus suggested. “I mean, I get it. Number Two. Knife throwing. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. You’re the difficult type to love--”
“Get the hell out of the car,” Diego said.
“But if you try, Diego, just try--”
Diego unsheathed a knife. “Get out of the car or I swear to God--”
Klaus fumbled with the door, opening it and stumbling out. He leaned down before closing it. “You’ll pick me up in an hour?”
Diego rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”
Klaus smiled at him broadly. “So that’s a yes?”
-o-
That night, Diego was so restless that he could barely sit through dinner. Mom had made it this time, though, so he felt obliged, and she really did make a good roasted chicken and her mashed potatoes were to die for. He ate three servings just to see her smile.
His siblings spent their time talking and sharing stories. Vanya’s rehearsals and Luther’s new security cameras and Allison’s visitations and Five’s incongruent stories about how he still didn’t have a normal appetite from years of scavenging in the apocalypse. Klaus talked about how well AA went today, and Ben was reading a new book and it was all nice and well and good.
Needless to say, Diego excused himself as soon as he could.
“What about dessert?” Mom asked.
Diego paused to smile at her. “I’ll come down for it later, Mom. I promise.”
She brightened.
Diego, for that instant, was tempted to stay. For her sake, for his own. Hell, for the rest of them, too.
But that police scanner was upstairs. His gear was pressed and ready. Diego felt the need to move too strongly now, far too strongly to stay still any longer.
“I promise,” he said.
He’d do it later, he reasoned as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Later, when he had time. Later, when his work was done. Later.
-o-
It was just as well that he didn’t stick around for dessert. When he flipped the police scanner on, he found the perfect all almost immediately.
Robbery. Armed suspect fleeing on foot. No more than three miles away.
If he moved now, Diego could intercept and catch the guy.
If.
Hell, no.
When.
-o-
Diego made excellent time. His renewed training regimen now included mission prep, and he’d refined his times back to normal operating procedures. Since he knew the area so well, he was able to take his car on a few of the less known alleyways, and he caught sight of the chase no more than ten minutes after the initial call.
Chase was a general term. The force was out in full, actively canvassing. Diego had to turn off the main roads to avoid a roadblock, and he used his expansive knowledge to estimate how far the perp could make it and then he used his intuition to deduce the most likely path of escape.
Some would call it luck, but Diego didn’t believe in luck. He believed in his own skills, so when he veered off, navigating a few blocks back away from the barricade, he had no doubt. He made a turn into another side street, and his headlights landed on a form. It scurried out of the way, but Diego recognized the nature of the movement. Evasive.
He stopped the car, rolling down the window.
“Hey!” he called, one hand on the wheel while the other pulled out his favorite knife. “Hey, you!”
The figure turned back, short, pale skin, blonde hair. Red hoodie and ripped jeans. Matched the description to a t.
“Hold up!” he called.
The figure moved quickly, firing off two quick shots at Diego. The guy was quick on the draw but his aim was shit. One bullet dinged the hood and another nicked the windshield. He was as well fortified as a tank, however. It didn’t do shit.
Diego grinned.
The other guy had shot first.
Which meant when he threw his knife?
It would totally be self defense.
The guy raised his gun to fire again. The shot went wide, but Diego’s knife found its target perfectly. It landed, hard and deep in the upper right shoulder. High enough to disarm the guy and deep enough to keep him from running, but not enough of either to kill him.
The guy cried out, gun clattering as he fell to his knees. Diego got out of the car, engine still running, as he crossed over.
“Shouldn’t have run,” he said, kicking the gun a little further from the man’s reach. Diego shrugged, pulling out a zip tie. “Still, I’m kind of glad you did.”
The man seethed obscenities, but he squealed in pain as Diego tied his hands together. Another ziptie secured his feet. The bag of money and belongings was nearby, proving the man’s guilt plain enough.
“Now, stay there,” Diego said, looking the guy in the face and pulling the knife back out. The man let out an agonizing scream and Diego patted him on the head. “And the cops will be here in time to keep you from bleeding out.”
It was a damn good exit. It was damn good work. Diego wiped the blade of the knife clean as he made his way back to the car. He sat down in the driver’s seat, watching as the man heaved for air. He sheathed the knife and got his gun out.
Beaman, present for you on Gerald Street. You’re welcome.
He smirked as the message went through, waiting just long enough for the sound of sirens to approach. As the lights came round the corner, Diego was already gone.
Dinner with the family was nice. Dessert with mom would be amazing.
But this?
Saving people?
That was the shit that mattered.
-o-
He lingered, even if he didn’t have to. He parked just outside the police tape, close enough to see but far enough to be ignored. Beaman was the first on scene, naturally, so while he looked at Diego’s car, he did not dispatch an officer to try to take his statement.
Beaman had his hands full anyway.
He made the arrest; he recovered the stolen items. Thanks to Diego, an open case was as good as closed.
Diego stayed long enough to watch the guy be loaded into an ambulance, Beaman riding alongside him. When he finally made his way home, he thought about it to himself.
His siblings had no idea what they were missing.
-o-
Back at home, it was nearly midnight when Diego made his way in. He was careful to stow his supplies in a back, making a note to do an extra load of laundry to clear up all the blood before anyone noticed in the morning. He came in through the back way, padding lightly through the house, stopping in the kitchen to snag a drink.
Crime fighting was hard work, thank you very much.
When he flicked on the light, the room was empty, but he noticed a plate on the table. There was a generous piece of chocolate cake with a note.
Missed you for dessert! Hope this hits the spot. Cold milk is in the fridge. I can make you brownies tomorrow.
Mom’s impeccable cursive was easy enough to recognize.
Diego looked at the cake, laid out just for him and chewed his lip. He had promised her he’d be back, and he knew that she had to charge at 9 PM sharp. He knew that when he promised, and he hadn’t even thought about it out there. There were priorities, after all. In the field, you couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Still, the thought of mom cutting the cake and waiting for him was not an image he liked. Guiltily, he drew out the glass of milk and sat down, forcing himself to eat and drink the entire thing. On the back of the note, he scrawled his reply.
Best cake ever. You’re the best, Mom. Sorry for missing you -- rain check until tomorrow. Brownies sound great.
He put the dishes in the sink and left the note next to Mom where she was charging in front of the hall of pictures. He stayed for a moment, watching her. For all that had changed, she had always been the same. A constant in an unsteady life. Leaving the Academy had been easily. Leaving his siblings had been doable. Leaving her?
Well, it had nearly killed him.
But he was back now.
He was here.
And just because he was running side jobs on his own didn’t mean he intended to go anywhere. He could do both; he could. He could play the hero, and he could still be part of the family.
It didn’t have to be a contest, after all. It couldn’t be. How could you compare the two? A criminal behind bars and your mother? That shit didn’t have to parse. Besides, Mom would understand. Of all of the idiots in this family, Mom would always understand.
He consoled himself with that thought as he made his way up to bed.
And he fell asleep so quickly that he didn’t have to think about whether that was a good thing or not.
-o-
It got harder to hide.
The late nights were one things. The blood in the laundry room was another. Fortunately, Diego spent a lot of time playing with knives so no one thought it was unusual that he spent so much time sharpening them, but he did leave a mask lying around from time to time.
His siblings noticed, of course, but they didn’t want to notice so it didn’t come to anything. That was the thing about his siblings: ignorance was bliss.
All the more reason for Diego to play the hero.
If they wanted a reprieve, then he’d happily give it to them.
-o-
Another night out; another round of saves. He stopped a domestic incident from escalating. He made sure a drunk woman didn’t shoot up a liquor store. Nothing spectacular, but two saves in one night. Diego was getting his groove back on.
It would only get better from here.
-o-
So he never went to breakfast anymore, and he found reasons to skip out on dinner. Klaus asked to train and Diego was too sore so he made up an excuse. Luther wanted to talk a communication system, but the details were too boring. Allison asked about upgrading the suits, which sounded like a good idea, but Diego couldn’t think about it right now. Five had some thoughts about the mathematical breakdown of their powers in combat, but the math made Diego’s head hurt and he’d been up way too late last night to bother.
“Another time,” he said.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he suggested.
“You get on that and let me know,” he said.
Another week gone and Diego realized that the dessert with Mom was still pending.
Priorities, though. He had to remember his priorities.
He kissed Mom’s cheek when he got in late again.
Saving people trumped everything.
He lingered, a hand in her hair before turning away to head up the stairs to bed.
Even family.
-o-
The pattern was easy enough to establish.
By day, he was your average family man.
By night, he was the city’s crime fighting vigilante.
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. The nights he had down, but they got longer and longer. One night he didn’t get back until 3 AM. His family didn’t ask; Diego didn’t tell. It was what it was.
-o-
Then, one night, a case was harder than anticipated. After ending up in hand to hand with a pack of thugs, Diego was pretty sure he had two cracked ribs and a black eye. He could bind the ribs himself well enough, but the black eye was going to be a problem.
When he rolled out of bed around 1 PM the next day, his siblings did notice.
“Training accident,” he told them with forced indifference. “Not that any of you would know.”
“Hey, we train!” Klaus objected.
“We have been picking it up,” Luther said.
“A lot,” Allison added.
“We find that training is better during the daylight. You know, when people are actually awake,” Five quipped.
Diego grunted but didn’t argue.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” Vanya asked.
“It’s just a black eye,” Diego said. “It means I’m doing something right.”
He let the implication linger. They weren’t dumb, his siblings. They would understand the insult well enough.
“Whatever,” he said, getting off the couch and going back to his room. “I have some shit to do anyway.”
They watched him leave, he was pretty sure. He couldn’t be positive, though.
Because Diego didn’t look back.
-o-
When he got to his room, he closed his door. With a sigh, he flopped on the bed and regretted it. His ribs ached with fresh intensity. When he caught his breath, he opened his eyes to look at the ceiling.
Instead, Ben stared back at him. He was frowning.
“Shit,” Diego said. “Don’t you knock?”
Ben shrugged. “That’s a lot to ask for someone who’s noncorporeal.”
Diego huffed, levering himself up as best he could without wincing. “Well, give a guy some heads up,” he muttered. “It’s called privacy.”
“Uh huh,” Ben said, and he stood back, eyeing Diego critically. “Pretty sure that’s code for keeping secrets.”
Diego made a face of offense. “What?”
“We’re Hargreeves,” Ben reminded him. “Secrets were part of the deal. One of the many parts I hated.”
Diego settled himself back against his pillow, trying to look comfortable even if he didn’t feel that way. “Are we really going to play the who had the shittier childhood game?”
“No,” Ben said. “I don’t care about the past. Right now, though, seems pretty important.”
Diego groaned. He was too tired for Ben’s self righteous thing. “I’m too tired to play your vague guessing games. If there’s something you want to say, then you might as well say it.”
Ben shrugged again. “I’ve got nothing to say; I’m not the one keeping secrets.”
“It’s not keeping secrets,” Diego said. “It’s called living my life. I don’t anyone getting their panties in a twist every time Vanya plays a new song or Five starts an equation. If you want to talk about problems, then let’s address Klaus’ growing stockpile of yarn.”
Ben was not amused -- and undeterred. “You’re not training at night.”
Stubbornly, Diego crossed his arms over his tender chest. “How do you know? When Klaus is sleeping, you’re not here.”
“Klaus is an insomniac. I’m up a lot.”
Diego scowled. “So, I’m out and about? That’s not a problem.”
“You’re doing your thing again, aren’t you?” Ben said. “You’re playing superhero.”
“Oh, whatever--”
“I saw you in the mask last night,” Ben said.
Diego closed his mouth.
Ben tipped his head. “I should tell the others.”
“Then do,” Diego said. “Like I said, there’s no secret.”
“Then why do it like that?” Ben pressed. “At night, in dark.”
“Because that’s when a lot of shit goes down,” Diego said. “It’s logic.”
“No, logic is waiting for the rest of the team,” Ben said.
“I tried. No one was ready. You all kept telling me, so I stopped asking,” Diego said.
“And decided to do it yourself?” Ben asked.
“Why not?”
Ben’s look was longsuffering. “It’s dangerous.”
That rationale was almost laughable. In fact, it was laughable. Diego would have laughed more if his ribs didn’t hurt so damn much. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Ben wasn’t laughing, however. “What you’re doing is reckless.”
This time, Diego went ahead and rolled his eyes. It was like listening to the old man lecture him about how to be careful, how to be smart. A lot of shitty ways of telling him to follow orders more like Luther, which was about the only order he could never abide by. “I’m not an amateur at this,” he said. “I’m good at what I do.”
He had hoped his statement would stand for itself, but Ben’s skepticism suggested otherwise. “You’re not that good. If you were, you wouldn’t have ended up with a black eye and broken ribs.”
Like Ben was one to criticize, being dead and all. Diego was an asshole, but even he had his limits -- at least where Ben was involved. It was one thing to eviscerate a living sibling, but a dead one? Well, Diego had to draw his line in the sand somewhere.
Without the obvious insult off the table, he settled for petulance instead. “Whatever.”
Such tactics had never worked with their dad. It had only served to piss him off, which was why Diego had resorted to it so often. Ben wasn’t their dad, however. The flippancy had the frustrating effect of making Ben even more earnest.
Which, for the record, Diego would not have thought possible, but there Ben was, practically pleading with him. “You can’t put yourself at risk like this.”
Diego made a sweeping gesture with his hand in frustration. “I have to! I mean, you, of all people, should get why it matters to save a life.”
“Of course I do, but you can’t save everyone -- that’s the horrible truth of it,” Ben said.
“But if we work harder, maybe we can save more,” Diego said. “Just think about it. If we’d been focused the way we’re supposed to be, we could have saved you.”
“My death was one hundred percent preventable,” Ben said. “But the only way you could have saved it? Was by not being superheroes.”
The logic was infuriating. He shook his head. “That’s not how it works, dude. You can’t hide your head in the sand, pick and choose. Not when you have the powers we have.”
Ben wrinkled his nose. “That’s exactly how it works. All we do is pick and choose. Even with your police scanner, you pick and choose. And helping one person means you’re not helping someone else. Acknowledging that is sanity, not ignorance.”
“So we can’t save everyone,” Diego relented. “But it’s up to us to pick the greater good.”
“And why isn’t the greater good family?” Ben asked. “Maybe the right thing is to pick family.”
Diego’s mouth puckered sourly. “That’s bullshit.”
Ben was unyielding. “No, that’s love.”
It was a dividing line. It was a difference of opinion that had no middle ground. Ben didn’t get it; Ben didn’t understand. Diego wasn’t going to beat his head against a wall on a fool’s errand. Not when it had already been beat up enough in one day.
He sighed. “Are you going to tell them?”
Ben managed to look mature and responsible. The fact that he was ethereal probably gave him an unfair advantage in most things outside of breathing and physically interacting with the world at large. “Am I going to tell them that you’re running around stupidly on your own at night, wearing a mask and looking for new ways to nearly get killed?”
If Ben was hoping to make Diego sheepish, he was going to have to keep hoping.
Exasperated, Ben huffed. “No, I’m not going to tell them,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you should. It’s not like they’re not going to figure it out anyway.”
“Uh, well, they haven’t yet,” Diego reminded him. “They’re all busy, remember? Doing pointless shit?”
It wasn’t the most diplomatic response. “Diego--”
Ben was gearing up for some kind of lecture, for some kind of important point, for some kind of emotional climax and whatever. Diego didn’t have the patience for it right now. Maybe ever. His emotional capacity had been expended thanks to his family for the next ten years. No wonder he wanted to go throw knives at people.
“Just don’t, okay?” he said. “Everyone else around here gets to do whatever the hell they want. They get to wait until they’re ready. I have to be all deferential to their shit, so why not mine? Why can’t I do what I need to do? Why can’t I wait until I’m ready?”
“You can,” Ben said. He cocked his head, eyebrows up. “But the real question isn’t when. It’s why. Why aren’t you ready? Why are you keeping this from us?”
Ben clearly had spent too much time thinking since he died. That was probably an unfortunate side effect of death. When you couldn’t interact with the world, of course you would be prone to self reflection. But really. “Because you’re all annoying enough to try to stop me,” he said. “And maybe I’m just having fun. Without you or your blessing. Maybe I’m having fun.”
He said it with anger.
At Ben’s look, Diego realized belatedly that he’d said it without certainty, however. “Yeah,” Ben said with a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe you are.”
With his point made, Ben disappeared through one of the walls. It was a dramatic exit in every way, but that didn’t make Ben right. It didn’t.
Of course, it didn’t make Diego right, either, but whatever.
Okay?
Diego closed his eyes with a grunt.
Whatever.
-o-
Diego hadn’t intended to nap, but he was tired. He probably would have slept all day if not for the tenderness of his ribs. Every time he moved, they were jarred and he woke up again. Around dinner, he gave up entirely and decided to humor his family by showing up for a meal.
Besides, Ben had said he wouldn’t tell, but Ben was dead and the Hargreeves could be convenient liars when he situation arose. Diego trusted his siblings with his life. That was, consequently, about the only thing he trusted them with.
Also, he was hungry. If he didn’t have a good meal, he’d never make it through the night.
So, you know how it was.
Priorities.
-o-
Dinner was a necessity, and for all the shit Dad had put them through growing up, he had never been stingy with food. Pogo made sure they ordered all the best ingredients, and Mom was programmed to be an impressive chef with an unparalleled knowledge of how to create food that was flavorful and nutritious. Honestly, of all the things he’d missed when first moving out of the house, the cooking had been the hardest thing to live without.
So if he had to endure his family’s pointless chitchat to consume a good meal, then that seemed like a fair trade off. Besides, it wasn’t always bad. There were times when Diego liked hanging out with his siblings.
This wasn’t one of those times.
Halfway through, Diego was bracing himself against the table to stabilize his ribs while doing his best not to yawn wide enough to attract attention. His siblings, for their part, were talking about nothing.
No, they were talking about everything.
Just nothing important.
“I know Dad never wanted strangers in the house, but we’ve got so much space. It seems silly to let it go to waste,” Vanya was saying. “A studio would be perfect so I could practice without bothering anyway, and by conducting lessons there, we could easily make a little extra income.”
That was, of course, a security risk.
“It wouldn’t be too hard to create a hard barrier, fortified for security reasons,” Luther reasoned.
“Also, there’s some sense in keeping ourselves closer to home,” Allison said. “Not that we should be recluses here or anything, but the most vulnerable times are transit.”
That was a major allowance, and it presumed that they wanted to maintain a normal schedule without regard to the demands of the Academy.
“And I like it,” Klaus said with some enthusiasm. “I like that we’re trying to mix things a bit more, you know? So it’s not all business, all the time. Dad was always running this like we were soldiers or something, but we can be people now, right? People and superheroes?”
“I was thinking that we needed to create shifts anyway to monitor both security and possible incoming cases,” Five added. “There’s seven of us, and to think that we all need to be on duty all the time during non-emergent situations is superfluous. It would be a waste of valuable resources.”
Diego made a face. Wait, what were they saying?
Vanya smiled brightly. “So you really think it’s a good idea?”
No, it was a terrible idea, but before he could open his mouth, Ben glared at him from across the table. It would figure, wouldn’t it? The dead brother was the only one with an ounce of awareness.
“We think it’s a great idea,” Luther said, as if he spoke for everyone. His siblings looked contented enough to reinforce the notion. Apparently, Diego’s thoughts were irrelevant.
It was just as well; it was their loss. It was sure as hell ironic, then. That Diego, who hated their father more than any of the rest, was the only one to fulfill the destiny he’d determined. On his own terms, however. Only on his own terms.
He shoveled another bite of food into his mouth and looked down at his plate. If they didn’t want his opinion, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to be obliged to share it, and Ben could shove off for all Diego cared. Let them build studios. Let them earn money on the side. Let them do whatever they wanted for whatever reasons they deemed suitable.
They would do their things.
Diego would do theirs.
It was probably better off this way.