Umbrella Academy fic: The First Cut is the Deepest (1/2)
Title: The First Cut is the Deepest
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Fills my lacerations square for hc_bingo. Unbeta’ed. Set as a post-S1 resolution.
Summary: Luther can see what they could be together. They just need someone to keep them together long enough to get there. They just need their Number One.
PART ONE
PART TWO
-o-
Saving the world hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had been very hard.
Living in the aftermath is harder, somehow. Luther’s not sure he can explain it.
He just knows - better than he wants to - that he really can’t deny it.
-o-
It’s hard because there’s no invective. There are no orders. There’s no mission.
It’s just seven different people - seven very different people, bonded by the same distrust and pain. Seven people trying to stay together when all their instincts scream at them to part ways. That’s the choice they all made, one by one by one. Five had run off into the future. Ben had gone and died. Diego had left home at 18 without looking back, and Allison had been not long after booking a trip to Hollywood. Klaus had disappeared in and out of rehab facilities, and Vanya had told him she just couldn’t stay, she couldn’t.
Luther had stayed, of course, until his father sent him off to the moon. Even coming back hadn’t been so much a choice for them as a necessity. It was what you did when your father died. You came home.
Then, you left again.
It’s a tension they feel, for sure. There’s a part of them all that wants to leave, that thinks maybe they should. But they’ve done this thing together, this great, inexplicable thing, and no one will understand it.
So, they stay.
Uncertain and tentative.
They stay.
Day after day.
Until Luther realizes that they’ve made their choice to stay.
It’s up to him, then, to make sure they don’t change their minds.
-o-
Luther is, you see, Number One. He’s been trained not just to fight crime, but for leadership. His father had always been very explicit about that. He wants Luther to be the one that holds them together in the field.
Now, he thinks, maybe he’s the one who has to hold them together in life, too.
Number One.
The loyal son, the good son. The son fulfilling his father’s dreams, realizing the ambition he never lived long enough to see. For all that he should resent that, fight against it, he feels the call. It compels him. Not because he wants to please his father.
No, because his father was right.
Luther can see what they could be together.
They just need someone to keep them together long enough to get there.
They just need their Number One.
-o-
Uncertain at first, Luther starts out slow. He implements a few structural measures about the mansion. There are set meal times, though no enforcement of being there. He updates the training facilities, and he cajoles the others to join him one and one at first. It happens quite naturally that they should train together, and Luther keeps track of their individual progress while keeping the mood light. He doesn’t let them know he’s monitoring them.
He lets others bring it up, naturally at first. Five and Diego talk about it most, the what-comes-next. Diego wants to go on missions; Five agrees. Luther builds on that and asks with a shrug if the family wants to start the Umbrella Academy again.
“For real,” he says. “Training, missions, all of it.”
There is obvious skepticism, but Luther clarifies quickly.
“But on our terms,” he promises. “We do it on our terms.”
-o-
They agree, though it’s not exactly enthusiastic. Luther knows that intellectually, but the prospect of rebuilding the team gets the better of him. In his dad’s office, he finds the old training schedules and regimes, and he can’t help but use them as a starting place. Within weeks, casual training has become fully structured sessions, and Luther goes from cajoling to critical feedback.
It’s necessary, you see. Allison needs to build up her stamina. Klaus needs to focus his powers. Ben needs to solidify his bridge with the living world, and Diego has to get that damn chip off his shoulder. Five is far too independent minded, and Vanya is tentative. As powerful as they all are separately, they’re a mess together.
It’s not the kind of feedback the others take well.
Unsurprisingly, Diego is the first one to protest. “Seriously, you need to scale it back,” he says after Luther breaks down what went wrong in another sparring exercise. They’re splintered, not working as a team. They’re a fractured unit, and that will be a disaster in the field. “We don’t exist as numbers anymore.”
“Technically, some of us do,” Five says, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Five, for all that he is the most skilled fighter, is the least in tune with the team dynamic. He’s a complete wild card. He’s also a total smart ass.
Diego glares at the smallest Hargreeves on Luther’s behalf. “It’s your name, not a rank,” he says. He turns back to Luther, lips pursed in defiance. “And you’re not Number One.”
Luther is still Number One, but he feels like this is a silly argument to have. “I’m just calling it like I see it,” he explains. He looks to the others, who are in varying states of disrepair after their work. “We’re all open to give feedback.”
Allison nods, coming up alongside him. She’s flexing her hand with a wince. “I agree with Luther.”
Diego snorts. “Big surprise there.”
Allison doesn’t back down. “You’re missing all the beats,” she says coolly to Diego.
“I’m compensating for the others,” Diego shoots back. He nods to Klaus and Vanya. “Not everyone is on the same level.”
“Hey, I’m trying here,” Klaus says. “It’s not my fault that I have no idea how my powers work. You spend 20 years being high and see how you handle it.”
Ben rolls his noncorporeal eyes and Luther wishes sometimes that Klaus’ explanations weren’t always so intent on making things worse.
“No, he’s right,” Vanya offers. She’s been an eager, earnest and awkward addition to the team. She is clearly able to destroy them all, which is probably why she’s so tentative. That means, essentially, that she’s nothing more than a willing civilian in most of their combat scenarios, which is less than ideal. “I’m just not getting it.”
Allison reaches out, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll get there.”
“You’re making progress,” Five assures her.
That’s at least in the spirit of things, so Luther smiles and nods in agreement. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses,” he says. “We have to acknowledge that, embrace it.”
“Yeah?” Diego says, chest puffing out almost out of reflex as he steps closer to Luther. “And what are your weaknesses?”
Luther sighs. It’s tempting to rise to the bait - Diego is an asshole a lot of the time - but he’s Number One. Whether or not anyone wants to admit it, it’s true. Luther can’t let them down. “Sometimes I lack creativity and nuance in the field,” he says. “You could say I’m predictable.”
Diego smirks. “Finally, something we can agree on.”
“Look,” Luther says. “If Dad were here-”
That’s the wrong thing to say. The others - even Allison - respond badly. Diego all but punches the wall. Klaus lets out a strangled half-cry. Ben nearly blinks out of existence, and Five’s eyes narrow. Vanya flinches. It’s Allison who looks at him and says, “But Dad’s not here. We wouldn’t do this for Dad.”
Luther nods, the feeling flooding out of his body. “I know that,” he says. “We’re doing it for us. Which is all the more reason to do it right.”
“Whatever,” Diego says, stalking toward the exit. “Your version of right has always been exactly what Dad tells you it is - and I’m not here for that.”
Klaus slinks after him, making a face. “Funny how every time we talk about him, I want to go get high.”
Ben is following after him. “Please don’t-”
“But it’s fun-”
“It’s not fun-”
“Ugh, you’re not fun.”
When they’re gone, Vanya shuffles apologetically to the door. “I’ll work on it,” she promises with a small smile. “And I think we’re getting better.”
In her wake, Five tweaks his eyebrows. “We’re not getting better,” he says under his brother. He shrugs to Luther. “I’ll work with Vanya, but I’ve got no ideas about Klaus.”
That’s something, though it ignores the fact that Five himself is having trouble adjusting to the group. That’s the thing, though. They’re all well intentioned and willing to go the extra mile for each other, but none of them have grasped that change - real change - has to happen.
Being good siblings is not the same thing as being a good team.
They can be both.
They have to be both.
When it’s just him and Allison, she looks at him. Her lips are flat; her expression, tired. “So, that went well.”
He’s holding it together as best he can for the rest of them, and for Allison, too. But there’s a vulnerability with her. She can still see the real human heart beating behind his hairy exterior. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time with her. It’s one of the reasons why he loves her so much.
“I think the Umbrella Academy is something we need, as a family,” he says. “I think it’s what we all want.”
“It is,” she says. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t, but-”
She doesn’t finish the thought.
Luther shrugs. “But what?”
“But we don’t even know what the Umbrella Academy is without Dad,” she says. “For all the bad things he did, he made it simple.”
“Which is why I’m trying to bring some of that back,” Luther says. “Not the bad - but the structure.”
“And the pecking order too?” she asks, her eyebrows up.
He reddens. “No, not like that.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, a little keen.
“Allison-”
“I’m just saying what the others are thinking,” she says. “We want the Umbrella Academy. We don’t want Dad.”
“But maybe one doesn’t exist without the other,” Luther says, and he’s not being contrary. If anything, he’s imploring.
She reaches out, taking him by the hand gently. “That,” she acknowledges, “could definitely be a problem.”
-o-
It’s not a problem.
It’s damn near a disaster.
Instead of coming together, they seem to be growing apart every day. And not in that healthy way you might think. Not in the sense that they are becoming their own people and naturally drifting apart.
No, this is antagonistic. It’s purposeful and it’s cutting and, if Luther’s getting honest, it’s getting out of hand. He never agreed with his dad’s discipline techniques - and he would never imagine to, not now - but he sees the appeal of taking the belt to someone when they’re being an asshole intentionally.
Diego, while still quite eager to train, spend all of his time picking fights with Luther both physically and verbally. Almost all sparring sessions end with Diego threatening him with a knife saying, “I’m not your Number Two.”
It had been meaningful the first time Diego said it - maybe.
After several consecutive days, Luther can barely keep from rolling his eyes.
Diego is by far the most outwardly confrontational about things, but he’s by no means the most difficult. Five, though clearly wanting - and needing - the Umbrella Academy to provide him with a semblance of purpose in a post-pre-apocalyptic world, seems to struggle with basic human decency. He rebuffs Luther’s attempt to create moderate discipline amongst the group. He insists on drinking coffee, never adheres to any kind of bedtime, and often skips meals for no reason other than he apparently can. Luther does his best to respect these measures, but draws the line at a technical 13 year old drinking margaritas at 2 in the afternoon. When he tells Five that’s just not going to work, Five gets a funny look on his face. “Need I remind you, I am twice your age,” he says, taking a long swig of alcohol. “I really don’t think I need your permission.”
Luther holds his tongue. It’s not a question of permission but of permissibility. It’s not about whether or not Five can, but whether or not Five should, but that’s not a nuance Five seems inclined to take to, and considering how quickly and easily Five can disappear, Luther does not want to engage him further on the topic.
Klaus, though better natured, finds sobriety straining.
In return, Luther finds Klaus straining. As someone who is a recovering addict, it is clear that Klaus needs structure. He needs accountability and reliability and all the things Luther is offering. He just clearly doesn’t want it.
Instead of focusing during training, he willfully distracts himself. For no reason, he decides to sit whole training sessions out and he listens to music while they’re going over contingency protocol. Despite the generous deadlines Luther sets, Klaus is perpetually late, and his excuses grow thinner and thinner until he simply shrugs and languidly admits. “I know - I meant to, I did - but then...I just didn’t want to.”
There’s nothing much he can say to that, not without becoming the epitome of everything his siblings hate and resent. So he smiles, grits his teeth and keeps going. He reminds himself that there are plenty of tasks to be done. After all, there are seven of them.
Yes, seven.
Not that Vanya seems remotely ready to be part of the team.
She wants to, of course. She loves the concept. She’s giddy about it all in theory. But when they get into any training exercise that requires her to access her powers, she wilts and retreats almost immediately. When Luther encourages her, promising her that he’ll be there for her, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I mean, what if I blow up the moon again? I don’t think I can do this.”
Even Allison -- his Allison, his beautiful, amazing, talented Allison -- seems to be having trouble focusing. She’s usually his biggest ally. She’ll back him up in any argument, and she’s always the first one to rally by his side.
Unless Claire calls.
When Claire calls, Allison drops everything else. She’ll walk out of any training session. She will literally leave family meetings mid-sentence. When Luther asks her about it, she shrugs as if this is totally normal. “I’m sorry, I am,” she tells him. “But you know how it is, how it has to be for me. Claire comes first.”
It’s valid, of course. Honestly, it’s all valid. As their brother, Luther respects it. He totally does.
As Number One? As the leader of the Umbrella Academy?
He’s really not sure what the hell he’s going to do.
-o-
Luther’s answer to most things is to just keep on.
It had been his primary coping mechanism throughout his teenage years, dealing with his siblings’ increasing signs of rebellion by being a strong and immovable presence. It’s how he managed to be the last one standing, quite literally, until he came face to face with the mission that nearly killed him. Even then, in the aftermath, he’d gone to the moon, he’d followed orders. He’d persisted. He’d kept on.
It’s what he does now, too.
He keeps scheduling family meals. He arranges daily family meetings. He creates training programs, both group and individual, and rounds up his siblings as necessary to complete the designated daily tasks. When they balk, he doesn’t stop. He keeps asking, keeps pushing.
“Just a little more.”
“Come on, just for a little bit.”
“I know you have the time.”
“Please?”
They tolerate this to some degree.
What they do not tolerate as well, however, is Luther’s feedback.
To be clear, feedback is a part of this. Diego needs to learn how to follow orders. Allison needs to think of others first. Klaus has to focus. Five needs to remember he’s part of a team. Ben needs to hone his killer instincts, and Vanya needs to stop being afraid and challenge herself to the level of excellence she is clearly capable of.
These are not innate skills. They are learned, and Luther knows it’s up to him to make sure they learn it.
These skills, however, are not things his siblings are particularly keen to learn. Over the weeks, Luther gets more persistent, and his siblings start to get more resentful. Tensions start to run higher, and family meetings turn contentious. Training sessions turn into fist fights. After one particularly bad day, Luther manages to separate his siblings, kicking Diego to the ground and picking Five up by his coat to keep him off the ground while Klaus wails on the ground and Allison nurses a bloody lip. Ben is all but gone in the melee, and Vanya has taken to hiding by the wall in case something should go wrong.
Or, you know, more wrong.
“Come on,” Luther says, and he’s not yelling. He’s trying not to yell, even as Diego seethes and Five writhes. “We’re supposed to be a team!”
“Yeah, sure,” Klaus says, getting to his feet gingerly. “But aren’t we really supposed to be a good team?”
“Well, it’d help if you’d focus,” Allison snipes.
“Please, you keep checking your phone the whole time,” Diego says, and he pulls away, getting to his feet with a vengeful look at Luther.
“You’re all amateurs,” Five says tersely, glaring at Luther until he sets his brother back on his feet. “And this whole thing is a disaster.”
“Was it always like this?” Vanya asks, a little tentative as she remains her place away from the others. “When you were kids?”
“Not with Dad,” Luther says. “He never would have tolerated it.”
Diego snorts. “But Dad’s not here, asshole.”
Luther has to bite back his reply, which wells up in his throat with so much force that it almost hurts. “Which is why we need to figure something out,” he says instead. He looks at them each in turn. “I’m open to ideas.”
“Individual training plans, mostly,” Diego says. “Limit the group time.”
“But then what about accountability?” Five asks. He shakes his head. “The approach needs to be more systematic. I’ve run some models on this--”
Allison rolls her eyes. “This is more than math,” she says. “And it’s more than a team. We have to be a family.”
“Exactly, family,” Klaus joins in. “So I’m thinking, no training at all. More relaxation. Oh, or we could each learn an instrument, something to channel our energy, and then we’d make a wonderful seven-piece band.”
Vanya is on her feet again, taking a tentative step forward. “But the Umbrella Academy--”
“We should just get a new name altogether--”
“That would be a waste of time--”
“We’re focusing on the wrong things--”
“What about baking instead?”
Several minutes later, Luther feels relieved that he’s managed to get them all to retire to their rooms without further physical violence.
Needless to say, there is no plan in place.
But beggars really can’t afford to be choosers.
-o-
Dad had been an authoritarian, so Luther tries a different approach. Instead of forced group sessions all the time, he makes a point to spend time with each sibling individually. He talks to them about their needs and wants and dreams. He lets them air their complaints, and he comes up with viable solutions. It’s his attempt to make peace.
They appreciate it, at least.
Not that it works.
Sure, it keeps them all going. They all continue to go to family meetings. They all keep up with their training regimens. But they don’t get better.
If anything, the resistance increases. The sense of disarray is continually enhanced. As Luther tries to pull them together, tries to make them a team, they’re further apart than ever. The arguments are more frequent; the dissent is more noted. The discussions become debates. The debates become arguments. The arguments are just shy of physical half the time, and the rest of the time?
Well, Luther isn’t dwelling on the rest of the time.
It seems like they’re losing common ground in everything, except one thing: the Umbrella Academy.
Despite the conflict, despite the controversy, they all want to bring back the Umbrella Academy. Each one, to a person, no doubt.
They just cannot agree, even a little bit, about how to make that happen.
“This talk, this planning -- it’s bullshit,” Diego insists at a family meeting one night. “We just need to get out there, in the field.”
Five nods along. “I agree,” he says. “It’s the only way to really see if we’re ready or not.”
“Uh, we’re not ready,” Allison interjects, her voice laden with doubt. “All we’d do is get our asses kicked -- or worse.”
“But that’s how it is,” Diego says. He flits his hand through the air. “You rise to the challenge or you don’t.”
“Yeah, I’m a little concerned about the don’t, to be honest,” Klaus hedges. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I think it means exactly what you think it means,” Ben adds gravely from over Klaus shoulder.
Vanya shakes her head, brows drawn together. “I’m just not sure I’ve got enough self control. What if I do something? Or what if I hold you all back?”
“But we’re not making progress this way,” Five says, and he’s logical but not unkind. “It doesn’t make sense to keep on like we are. We have to try something new.”
“Sure, but the field?” Allison asks. “We’re putting ourselves and others in danger.”
“You’re too tentative,” Diego shoots back.
“It’s called common sense,” Allison retorts cooly.
“Look, just look,” Luther says, stepping in before things continue to degrade. They’ve had this discussion more than once. And they’ve had this argument more than once, too. “We all want to be in the field, but I also think it’s premature.”
“But we’re going crazy here,” Five says.
“Some of us were already crazy, to be fair,” Klaus says.
Ben rolls his eyes.
“But we’ve all been in the field before,” Luther says. “It’s not some quick fix. There are real risks out there.”
“Whatever,” Diego says with a grunt. “At least Dad was never cautious. Say what you will about him, but he knew when to go for it.”
It produces the reaction you might expect. The others look more than a little off put.
Luther sighs. “I’m even talking practical measures,” he says. “Dad had a whole network to support the Umbrella Academy. We have to rebuild those connections, and we need to learn the contingency parameters. We need to have policies for when things go wrong -- which isn’t a question of if but when. So, it makes sense to wait, but we need to keep remembering this goal. We have to address our skills, and I’ll talk to Pogo, have him initiate the old procedures.”
It’s clear, calm, reasonable and moderate.
Naturally, Diego disagrees. “Yeah, since the old procedures worked so well.”
Luther looks at him, long, hard and tired. “I’m still listening for other productive ideas that don’t involve a baptism by fire.”
Stiffly, Diego shrugs, clearly miffed. “I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t,” Luther says. “Unless you have a better, more viable idea, this is what we have for now.”
It’s remarkable to Luther that they take that at face value when Luther himself knows it’s bullshit.
-o-
Pogo is amenable at least, but that’s about the only thing that goes right. Individually, training seems to go a little bit better, but they still are a mess as a group. They aren’t cohesive; they don’t listen. They’re self-centered and short-sighted, and Luther understands that but he can’t shake the nagging thought that it’s going to get them killed.
And that’s the thing that keeps him up at night.
If he’s Number One, if he’s in charge of this Umbrella Academy, then that’s on him. How can he lead them into the field when the risk of one of them not coming back is so high?
Alternatively, if he doesn’t reinstate the Umbrella Academy, will he be able to keep them together? He’ll lose them, one by one, without the structure and purpose of the team.
So he has to pick. Between keeping them together and keeping them safe.
He’s at his wit’s end, to say the least, but he can’t let go. He can’t indulge it.
If he falls apart, who will be left to keep them together?
He wonders if this is how his Dad felt, faced with impossible choices, impossible tasks, and impossible obstacles.
Because that’s what this all feels like now, more than anything: impossible.
Completely, utterly, wholly impossible.
-o-
Naturally, the temptation is there to go full-on Reginald Hargreeves. He wants to verbally take Diego down about five notches half the time, and he wants to take Allison’s phone and tell her that the world doesn’t revolve around her. He wants to tell Klaus how much of a disappointment he is, and he wants to remind Five how his hubris already got him stuck in the apocalypse once so maybe he should shut the hell up for a few minutes. He wants to remind Ben that being dead is not an excuse to be lazy, and he wants to tell Vanya that being special is something that isn’t given when you are born, you have to earn it, and she sure as hell isn’t earning it by hiding behind her doubts.
But that’s not how this is going to work. Luther is not his father. He will not be his father.
Therefore, the job comes second.
Family has to come first.
He checks himself, he holds his tongue, he keeps his temper.
Because for Luther, the family is the job.
And he’s not sure about anything else, but he’s quite confident in that.
-o-
This is how it is, Luther accepts.
This is how it has to be.
Until, one day, it isn’t.
-o-
Pogo takes the call.
In fact, Luther hardly hears the phone ring. For all that they are trained to save the world, they have very little interaction with the world. Apart from Allison’s reliance on her cell phone to keep in contact with Claire, there is very little outside contact. In fact, when the phone rings, Luther doesn’t even know what it is.
He wanders the house to investigate, finding the family phone on the lower level vacant. He hears a voice and makes his way upstairs, tiptoeing his way into his father’s office where he finds Pogo at the desk. He’s just hanging up the receiver now.
Pogo is old -- just how old, no one is exactly sure -- but he’s been old the entire time Luther’s known him. Serious and steady is the best way to describe him, though when Luther comes into the office, wide eyed and confused, Pogo’s expression is nothing short of grave.
“There’s been a call,” he explains.
Luther blinks stupidly. “A call?”
Pogo shifts his weight, lips thinning even more. “For the Umbrella Academy.”
“Oh,” Luther says, his stomach churning. “Oh.”
-o-
At first, he’s not sure he wants to call them together. He doesn’t want to induce conflict, and he knows this is an argument in the making. He could make a unilateral decision here -- it’s within his rights, probably. Even if it’s not, it’s not a bad decision and he knows it. It’s the pragmatic way forward.
And yet, Luther’s job isn’t to be pragmatic.
He’s not a dictator.
He’s a leader.
Which means they have to know.
His hesitation can only afford to be momentary. There is some leeway in the matter, but not a lot. These sorts of things are time sensitive, and Luther is aware that he has to be earnest in his attempts to inform his siblings. If he’s going to solicit their opinions, he needs to make sure their opinions actually count.
Fortunately, for once, they offer little resistance. Within two minutes, the whole family -- the whole team -- is assembled in the sitting room.
Luther clears his throat and clasps his hands. It feels awkward. He unclasps them and clears his throat. “For the sake of transparency, I think you should all know we have a pending call,” he explains.
He takes some satisfaction that they seem as confused by this as he was. At least they’re not starting out in completely different mindsets. “A call?” Vanya asks on behalf of them all.
Luther nods. “A request,” he clarifies as carefully as he can. “For the Umbrella Academy.”
They stare at him, wide eyed and somewhat expectant. Diego bobs his head. “What kind of request?”
“It’s a hot tip,” he says. “Someone has word that there’s going to be a hit at an art gallery downtown tonight. One of those elite, private kind of places.”
Allison looks innately skeptical. “So why don’t they call the cops if this tip is so hot?”
That’s a good question; the right question. Luther feels proud. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s been training them to think like this or because he’s completely infatuated with everything Allison does. “Like I said, it’s private ownership,” Luther explains. “Owner used to know Dad, liked his way of doing things. They thought they’d enlist us first before hiring private guns.”
Klaus’ eyes google a bit. “Guns? So it’s either us or mercenaries?”
“But that’s not what we do, is it?” Ben asks. “We work within the law.”
“Technically, yes,” Luther says. “But Pogo has vetted the request. This guy isn’t a criminal. He just doesn’t quite trust the local cops to get the job done. And with the level of the artwork in his care--”
“He doesn’t want to take any chances,” Five concludes. He gives a small shrug. “It’s not a bad move. Local cops aren’t going to exert the manpower needed to prevent a real hit.”
“So, in some ways, it’s the perfect starter job,” Diego says with a shrug. “We get some experience, build up our street cred again, with limited potential fallout. I’m not seeing the hesitation.”
“Well,” Luther hedges. “The hesitation is just that we’re still working out the kinks. I mean, you’ve seen us in training.”
“Hey, for the record, I think we’ve made a lot of progress,” Klaus says. “I mean, I haven’t had a laughing fit while trying to summon the dead in ages, and I really think I’m onto something with this levitation bit. Needs a little control--”
“A lot control,” Luther clarifies with a frown. “We don’t really function as a cohesive unit, is what I meant.”
“Sure, but our lack of cohesion is still better than most people would perform after years of refinement,” Five argues. “I completely agree we need some work, but I hardly think we’re not up for the task.”
“But it’s the real deal,” Luther points out. “Real bad guys. Real ammunition. They’ll be trying to hurt us.”
“Well, we’re going to have to face it sooner or later,” Allison says. She shrugs, just a tad apologetic. “It’s not like the extra training sessions are getting us there.”
Luther feels a tug inside him, almost a sense of dreaded inevitability. The tide is turning against him, and as much as he wants to exert his power and his influence, he can’t. Because he’s not his father. He won’t be his father.
Even when sometimes he thinks he should be.
“Are you all sure, then?” he asks quietly. “Is this really what you want to do?”
“It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?” Vanya asks. “This is what we’ve all signed up for.”
There’s solidarity; agreement.
It’s the first thing they’ve agreed on in weeks.
Luther can’t fight that.
Well, maybe he can, but ultimately, he won’t.
He nods, swallowing back his trepidation.
“Okay, then,” he says. “We’ll take the job.”
-o-
They have agreed on this job.
That is, probably, the only thing they agree on. From the very get go, things feel wildly out of control. Diego argues that they need a faster response time while Allison lectures them all about doing things the right way. Five complains that they all have to go in the same car, and Klaus feels compelled to argue about the route while Ben inadvertently floats in and out of existence in front of the windshield while claiming it’s not his fault. Vanya tries to back out several times, and they’re well behind schedule by the time Luther actually gets them to the job.
Things do not go better upon arrival. The person who hired them is not around, and Pogo has managed to arrange for the normal security detail -- a two man job -- to go home for the night. This is intended to minimize complications, but Luther simply sees it as a small way to preserve any chance they have at building a reputation from this job. Because if anyone saw them now, they would never imagine that the Umbrella Academy could be an effective crime fighting unit.
They argue about positions. They bicker over process. No one stays at their post, and they are so busy butting heads that they almost talk right through the alarm tripping on the exterior.
“Hey!” Luther calls to silence them. He dips his head toward the monitor, where a sizeable strike force is amassing at the gate. The others gather closer, growing silent for the first time all night. “We have to put this stuff behind us now. If we’re going to do this, we need to be totally united. Do we agree?”
Diego’s face is solemn. Allison blinks her dark eyes. Klaus nods a few time convulsively, and Five presses his lips into a thin line. Ben flickers once or twice and solidifies, and Vanya lets out a long, slow breath.
“Okay,” Luther says, wishing he felt more confident than he did. “Then let’s do this.”
-o-
The attack is clearly being orchestrated by professionals. They have skill and precision and experience -- none of which the Umbrella Academy can match. The fact that they have superpowers is probably the only thing that keeps the whole ordeal from being a complete and utter disaster.
The group has divided throughout the house to expedite the job, and Luther has no choice but to follow suit. There is much debate over the fact, but eventually he sends Diego, Klaus and Ben to the basement while he leads Five, Allison and Vanya to attack the primary attack party in the main hall.
There are moments of brilliance, of course. He and Allison can read each other well, and Five takes extra care with Vanya. They do manage to take down several of the assailants, but they’re not quite effective enough to prevent a full retreat. With a lack of overall organization, there is no plan for this, and Luther is dismayed by how quickly the attack squad regroups and reorganizes. Diego, Klaus and Ben come upstairs, breathless and somewhat worse for wear, and there is barely a minute to regroup before the next wave comes.
“Damn, these guys are trained!” Diego says.
Allison is dabbing at a cut on her lip. “And well armed.”
“Uh, yeah, and they really aren’t running away,” Klaus hems. “I mean, I thought they’d run away by now!”
“No, these guys are professionals,” Five says with a shake of his head. “They won’t quit until the job is done.”
“Which means what for us, then?” Ben asks.
Vanya is sober and wide eyed. Shakier than she has been all night. “That we have to take them down,” she says. “Or they’ll take us down.”
There’s a part of Luther who wants to call for retreat. It’s probably the smarter tactical move. Even with their success so far, they are still outnumbered. And their resolve is at the precipice.
What would their father do?
What would his siblings have him do?
What does Luther think should happen?
These factors, these pressing factors, are all at odds with one another and Luther doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how this ends. He just knows that he can’t decide.
There’s no time, anyway.
There is a noise at the door. Luther swallows. “Well, then,” he says, pulling himself up to full strength for the sake of the others. “It’s time.”
-o-
The second wave of fighting is even more haphazard than the first. That’s not to say it’s wholly ineffective -- on their own, each member of the Umbrella Academy is strong enough. Diego pins a few with his knives. Allison goes hand to hand and holds her own. Klaus and Ben are getting better, and they manage to make short work of another few. Vanya is the most unsteady of them all, but she follows in Five’s wake and they seem to have a certain balance among them. Luther takes out a handful with his bare hands and he thinks for a moment -- just a beautiful, fleeting moment -- that this might all work out after all.
The moment passes.
And Luther is left, face to face, with reality.
They aren’t ready for the field. The Umbrella Academy is not a united front. They are a mess; they are selfish and inconsistent and utterly splintered. They have saved the world, this is true, but it’s not enough to save them from disaster.
And disaster is coming.
Disaster is here.
The crazy part is that Luther sees it happening.
He sees it, step by step, almost like it is happening in slow motion.
That is his job, after all. It is what he was trained to do as Number One. His father had taken it quite seriously, and the instruction had been explicit and strict. It was Luther’s responsibility, his sole responsibility to anticipate all possible avenues during a mission. If Luther was to be his father's surrogate in the field, then he had to have this insight. He had to see how any given situation would unfold before it ever came to pass. Such foresight was more powerful than any other strength Luther would possess, and his father made sure he never forgot it.
The others had never understood.
Never.
They still don’t; they can’t.
That’s a flaw now. That’s a possibly fatal flaw.
The others had always thought his training was entirely physical, focusing on harnessing his natural, brute strength -- but that had always come easily for him. It didn’t take training to lift a grown man. It didn’t require practice to throw him out a window.
No, training had been needed for context. His training had been about learning when and how to make those kind of life and death decisions for the betterment of the family. He’d been coached on contingencies. His father had drilled him on failsafes. Luther had learned, more than anything else, how to protect the academy.
His father’s words were still etched into his memory. He can still practically hear them, echoing in his ears.
It’s your job to bring your siblings home above all else. You have to look out for them, all of them. They all have their jobs to do, but they are your Number One. Put them first always.
That part hadn’t come naturally, but Luther had always been eager to please. In this, he had been a diligent student. Not the smartest, not the most clever, but the most committed. The most dedicated. Luther tried harder than the others -- always had. He took his obligations seriously. If he didn’t, he hated to think what would happen.
He hadn’t even been able to conceptualize it as a child. Abstract warnings. Disassociated fears. Untethered threats.
Then Five had disappeared.
Then Ben had died.
The world had gone and ended.
And it isn’t abstract anymore. It isn’t disassociated or untethered. It is real, it is prescient.
To no end. Because Luther can work hard but it isn’t hard enough. Luther can oblige but he never has enough to give. No matter how much he anticipates, he cannot avert disaster. He can’t keep them together. One by one, he has watched them walk out the door and not look back before.
He wonders -- he wonders -- if they will do it again.
Before, when they had first left, he’d consoled himself that it was easier this way. He’d told himself it was more efficient; there were fewer variables in the field.
And it had been, in some ways.
But in his efficiency, he’d been vulnerable.
And he’d never been happy.
This is what he wants: the Umbrella Academy.
This is all he’s ever wanted.
He just doesn’t know how to keep it. He’d thought maybe breaking with that training would free them all, make them want to stay.
But now he’s faced with the fear -- the pressing fear -- that that lack of discipline may come at a far greater cost.
It’s his mistake; it’s his. He’s known all along, but he’s made the choice to look the other way. His training has been screaming in his ear, and he’s turned his back to it.
He’s made choices.
They’ve made choices.
Those choices are being called to account -- right here, right now.
The thing is, none of the choices being made are bad. In fact, when considered in isolation his siblings are making sound, reasonable and caring choices.
Sometimes, all the right choices turn out right.
Maybe there are no right choices.
Maybe there are just choices.
Choices you can’t take back.
No matter how much you wish you could.
Allison, in an effort to expedite the process, rumors one of the assailants toward the nearest exit. This, however, puts the guard in Klaus’ path. To accommodate the change, Klaus projects Ben across the room, thus blocking Diego’s path toward his assailant. Diego compensates instinctively, bending his knife on a different trajectory. Meanwhile, Vanya is still new to combat. As she struggles to get her bearings, Five is distracted. He jumps in her direction instead of keeping his assigned position.
Theses decisions are made in isolation. They are made with skill, precision and the best of intentions. They are still, however, isolated from one another.
They cannot play out in isolation.
They’re connected, intertwined irrevocably.
Inseparable.
This is when it happens
Five completes his jump, cutting through space with a flash of blue. As he materializes, Diego’s knife bends, curving into the blue as it tears and comes together once more. For a second, neither quite exists fully. Then, the next second, they exist together. Two objects, solid and unyielding, occupying the exact same space.
Five comes back to this plane, still in motion, but he comes to a staggering stop. He looks down, more surprised than anything. He looks down and sees what Luther has seen coming.
Diego’s knife.
Buried to its hilt.
Directly in Five’s chest.
For a surreal moment, everything stops. Five stands, mouth hanging open. He looks down at the knife almost like he doesn’t understand what it is. He reaches his hand up, still half poised mid stride, and he touches his chest. His fingers come away bloody.
Diego stares, horrified. Allison inhales sharply, his voice stolen in breathless surprise. Klaus stops in his tracks, hand to his mouth in shock while Ben flickers in and out. Vanya is the one who calls out, her voice laden with panic and grief. “Five!”
Five looks at his hand. He looks at the others. Finally, he looks down to the growing red spot on his front. “Shit,” he says, giving voice to what they’re all thinking.
Then he looks up again, color draining from his face, before his knees give out and he crumples to the ground.
The failed end to the first successful mission of the Umbrella Academy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Fills my lacerations square for hc_bingo. Unbeta’ed. Set as a post-S1 resolution.
Summary: Luther can see what they could be together. They just need someone to keep them together long enough to get there. They just need their Number One.
PART ONE
PART TWO
-o-
Saving the world hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had been very hard.
Living in the aftermath is harder, somehow. Luther’s not sure he can explain it.
He just knows - better than he wants to - that he really can’t deny it.
-o-
It’s hard because there’s no invective. There are no orders. There’s no mission.
It’s just seven different people - seven very different people, bonded by the same distrust and pain. Seven people trying to stay together when all their instincts scream at them to part ways. That’s the choice they all made, one by one by one. Five had run off into the future. Ben had gone and died. Diego had left home at 18 without looking back, and Allison had been not long after booking a trip to Hollywood. Klaus had disappeared in and out of rehab facilities, and Vanya had told him she just couldn’t stay, she couldn’t.
Luther had stayed, of course, until his father sent him off to the moon. Even coming back hadn’t been so much a choice for them as a necessity. It was what you did when your father died. You came home.
Then, you left again.
It’s a tension they feel, for sure. There’s a part of them all that wants to leave, that thinks maybe they should. But they’ve done this thing together, this great, inexplicable thing, and no one will understand it.
So, they stay.
Uncertain and tentative.
They stay.
Day after day.
Until Luther realizes that they’ve made their choice to stay.
It’s up to him, then, to make sure they don’t change their minds.
-o-
Luther is, you see, Number One. He’s been trained not just to fight crime, but for leadership. His father had always been very explicit about that. He wants Luther to be the one that holds them together in the field.
Now, he thinks, maybe he’s the one who has to hold them together in life, too.
Number One.
The loyal son, the good son. The son fulfilling his father’s dreams, realizing the ambition he never lived long enough to see. For all that he should resent that, fight against it, he feels the call. It compels him. Not because he wants to please his father.
No, because his father was right.
Luther can see what they could be together.
They just need someone to keep them together long enough to get there.
They just need their Number One.
-o-
Uncertain at first, Luther starts out slow. He implements a few structural measures about the mansion. There are set meal times, though no enforcement of being there. He updates the training facilities, and he cajoles the others to join him one and one at first. It happens quite naturally that they should train together, and Luther keeps track of their individual progress while keeping the mood light. He doesn’t let them know he’s monitoring them.
He lets others bring it up, naturally at first. Five and Diego talk about it most, the what-comes-next. Diego wants to go on missions; Five agrees. Luther builds on that and asks with a shrug if the family wants to start the Umbrella Academy again.
“For real,” he says. “Training, missions, all of it.”
There is obvious skepticism, but Luther clarifies quickly.
“But on our terms,” he promises. “We do it on our terms.”
-o-
They agree, though it’s not exactly enthusiastic. Luther knows that intellectually, but the prospect of rebuilding the team gets the better of him. In his dad’s office, he finds the old training schedules and regimes, and he can’t help but use them as a starting place. Within weeks, casual training has become fully structured sessions, and Luther goes from cajoling to critical feedback.
It’s necessary, you see. Allison needs to build up her stamina. Klaus needs to focus his powers. Ben needs to solidify his bridge with the living world, and Diego has to get that damn chip off his shoulder. Five is far too independent minded, and Vanya is tentative. As powerful as they all are separately, they’re a mess together.
It’s not the kind of feedback the others take well.
Unsurprisingly, Diego is the first one to protest. “Seriously, you need to scale it back,” he says after Luther breaks down what went wrong in another sparring exercise. They’re splintered, not working as a team. They’re a fractured unit, and that will be a disaster in the field. “We don’t exist as numbers anymore.”
“Technically, some of us do,” Five says, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Five, for all that he is the most skilled fighter, is the least in tune with the team dynamic. He’s a complete wild card. He’s also a total smart ass.
Diego glares at the smallest Hargreeves on Luther’s behalf. “It’s your name, not a rank,” he says. He turns back to Luther, lips pursed in defiance. “And you’re not Number One.”
Luther is still Number One, but he feels like this is a silly argument to have. “I’m just calling it like I see it,” he explains. He looks to the others, who are in varying states of disrepair after their work. “We’re all open to give feedback.”
Allison nods, coming up alongside him. She’s flexing her hand with a wince. “I agree with Luther.”
Diego snorts. “Big surprise there.”
Allison doesn’t back down. “You’re missing all the beats,” she says coolly to Diego.
“I’m compensating for the others,” Diego shoots back. He nods to Klaus and Vanya. “Not everyone is on the same level.”
“Hey, I’m trying here,” Klaus says. “It’s not my fault that I have no idea how my powers work. You spend 20 years being high and see how you handle it.”
Ben rolls his noncorporeal eyes and Luther wishes sometimes that Klaus’ explanations weren’t always so intent on making things worse.
“No, he’s right,” Vanya offers. She’s been an eager, earnest and awkward addition to the team. She is clearly able to destroy them all, which is probably why she’s so tentative. That means, essentially, that she’s nothing more than a willing civilian in most of their combat scenarios, which is less than ideal. “I’m just not getting it.”
Allison reaches out, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll get there.”
“You’re making progress,” Five assures her.
That’s at least in the spirit of things, so Luther smiles and nods in agreement. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses,” he says. “We have to acknowledge that, embrace it.”
“Yeah?” Diego says, chest puffing out almost out of reflex as he steps closer to Luther. “And what are your weaknesses?”
Luther sighs. It’s tempting to rise to the bait - Diego is an asshole a lot of the time - but he’s Number One. Whether or not anyone wants to admit it, it’s true. Luther can’t let them down. “Sometimes I lack creativity and nuance in the field,” he says. “You could say I’m predictable.”
Diego smirks. “Finally, something we can agree on.”
“Look,” Luther says. “If Dad were here-”
That’s the wrong thing to say. The others - even Allison - respond badly. Diego all but punches the wall. Klaus lets out a strangled half-cry. Ben nearly blinks out of existence, and Five’s eyes narrow. Vanya flinches. It’s Allison who looks at him and says, “But Dad’s not here. We wouldn’t do this for Dad.”
Luther nods, the feeling flooding out of his body. “I know that,” he says. “We’re doing it for us. Which is all the more reason to do it right.”
“Whatever,” Diego says, stalking toward the exit. “Your version of right has always been exactly what Dad tells you it is - and I’m not here for that.”
Klaus slinks after him, making a face. “Funny how every time we talk about him, I want to go get high.”
Ben is following after him. “Please don’t-”
“But it’s fun-”
“It’s not fun-”
“Ugh, you’re not fun.”
When they’re gone, Vanya shuffles apologetically to the door. “I’ll work on it,” she promises with a small smile. “And I think we’re getting better.”
In her wake, Five tweaks his eyebrows. “We’re not getting better,” he says under his brother. He shrugs to Luther. “I’ll work with Vanya, but I’ve got no ideas about Klaus.”
That’s something, though it ignores the fact that Five himself is having trouble adjusting to the group. That’s the thing, though. They’re all well intentioned and willing to go the extra mile for each other, but none of them have grasped that change - real change - has to happen.
Being good siblings is not the same thing as being a good team.
They can be both.
They have to be both.
When it’s just him and Allison, she looks at him. Her lips are flat; her expression, tired. “So, that went well.”
He’s holding it together as best he can for the rest of them, and for Allison, too. But there’s a vulnerability with her. She can still see the real human heart beating behind his hairy exterior. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time with her. It’s one of the reasons why he loves her so much.
“I think the Umbrella Academy is something we need, as a family,” he says. “I think it’s what we all want.”
“It is,” she says. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t, but-”
She doesn’t finish the thought.
Luther shrugs. “But what?”
“But we don’t even know what the Umbrella Academy is without Dad,” she says. “For all the bad things he did, he made it simple.”
“Which is why I’m trying to bring some of that back,” Luther says. “Not the bad - but the structure.”
“And the pecking order too?” she asks, her eyebrows up.
He reddens. “No, not like that.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, a little keen.
“Allison-”
“I’m just saying what the others are thinking,” she says. “We want the Umbrella Academy. We don’t want Dad.”
“But maybe one doesn’t exist without the other,” Luther says, and he’s not being contrary. If anything, he’s imploring.
She reaches out, taking him by the hand gently. “That,” she acknowledges, “could definitely be a problem.”
-o-
It’s not a problem.
It’s damn near a disaster.
Instead of coming together, they seem to be growing apart every day. And not in that healthy way you might think. Not in the sense that they are becoming their own people and naturally drifting apart.
No, this is antagonistic. It’s purposeful and it’s cutting and, if Luther’s getting honest, it’s getting out of hand. He never agreed with his dad’s discipline techniques - and he would never imagine to, not now - but he sees the appeal of taking the belt to someone when they’re being an asshole intentionally.
Diego, while still quite eager to train, spend all of his time picking fights with Luther both physically and verbally. Almost all sparring sessions end with Diego threatening him with a knife saying, “I’m not your Number Two.”
It had been meaningful the first time Diego said it - maybe.
After several consecutive days, Luther can barely keep from rolling his eyes.
Diego is by far the most outwardly confrontational about things, but he’s by no means the most difficult. Five, though clearly wanting - and needing - the Umbrella Academy to provide him with a semblance of purpose in a post-pre-apocalyptic world, seems to struggle with basic human decency. He rebuffs Luther’s attempt to create moderate discipline amongst the group. He insists on drinking coffee, never adheres to any kind of bedtime, and often skips meals for no reason other than he apparently can. Luther does his best to respect these measures, but draws the line at a technical 13 year old drinking margaritas at 2 in the afternoon. When he tells Five that’s just not going to work, Five gets a funny look on his face. “Need I remind you, I am twice your age,” he says, taking a long swig of alcohol. “I really don’t think I need your permission.”
Luther holds his tongue. It’s not a question of permission but of permissibility. It’s not about whether or not Five can, but whether or not Five should, but that’s not a nuance Five seems inclined to take to, and considering how quickly and easily Five can disappear, Luther does not want to engage him further on the topic.
Klaus, though better natured, finds sobriety straining.
In return, Luther finds Klaus straining. As someone who is a recovering addict, it is clear that Klaus needs structure. He needs accountability and reliability and all the things Luther is offering. He just clearly doesn’t want it.
Instead of focusing during training, he willfully distracts himself. For no reason, he decides to sit whole training sessions out and he listens to music while they’re going over contingency protocol. Despite the generous deadlines Luther sets, Klaus is perpetually late, and his excuses grow thinner and thinner until he simply shrugs and languidly admits. “I know - I meant to, I did - but then...I just didn’t want to.”
There’s nothing much he can say to that, not without becoming the epitome of everything his siblings hate and resent. So he smiles, grits his teeth and keeps going. He reminds himself that there are plenty of tasks to be done. After all, there are seven of them.
Yes, seven.
Not that Vanya seems remotely ready to be part of the team.
She wants to, of course. She loves the concept. She’s giddy about it all in theory. But when they get into any training exercise that requires her to access her powers, she wilts and retreats almost immediately. When Luther encourages her, promising her that he’ll be there for her, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I mean, what if I blow up the moon again? I don’t think I can do this.”
Even Allison -- his Allison, his beautiful, amazing, talented Allison -- seems to be having trouble focusing. She’s usually his biggest ally. She’ll back him up in any argument, and she’s always the first one to rally by his side.
Unless Claire calls.
When Claire calls, Allison drops everything else. She’ll walk out of any training session. She will literally leave family meetings mid-sentence. When Luther asks her about it, she shrugs as if this is totally normal. “I’m sorry, I am,” she tells him. “But you know how it is, how it has to be for me. Claire comes first.”
It’s valid, of course. Honestly, it’s all valid. As their brother, Luther respects it. He totally does.
As Number One? As the leader of the Umbrella Academy?
He’s really not sure what the hell he’s going to do.
-o-
Luther’s answer to most things is to just keep on.
It had been his primary coping mechanism throughout his teenage years, dealing with his siblings’ increasing signs of rebellion by being a strong and immovable presence. It’s how he managed to be the last one standing, quite literally, until he came face to face with the mission that nearly killed him. Even then, in the aftermath, he’d gone to the moon, he’d followed orders. He’d persisted. He’d kept on.
It’s what he does now, too.
He keeps scheduling family meals. He arranges daily family meetings. He creates training programs, both group and individual, and rounds up his siblings as necessary to complete the designated daily tasks. When they balk, he doesn’t stop. He keeps asking, keeps pushing.
“Just a little more.”
“Come on, just for a little bit.”
“I know you have the time.”
“Please?”
They tolerate this to some degree.
What they do not tolerate as well, however, is Luther’s feedback.
To be clear, feedback is a part of this. Diego needs to learn how to follow orders. Allison needs to think of others first. Klaus has to focus. Five needs to remember he’s part of a team. Ben needs to hone his killer instincts, and Vanya needs to stop being afraid and challenge herself to the level of excellence she is clearly capable of.
These are not innate skills. They are learned, and Luther knows it’s up to him to make sure they learn it.
These skills, however, are not things his siblings are particularly keen to learn. Over the weeks, Luther gets more persistent, and his siblings start to get more resentful. Tensions start to run higher, and family meetings turn contentious. Training sessions turn into fist fights. After one particularly bad day, Luther manages to separate his siblings, kicking Diego to the ground and picking Five up by his coat to keep him off the ground while Klaus wails on the ground and Allison nurses a bloody lip. Ben is all but gone in the melee, and Vanya has taken to hiding by the wall in case something should go wrong.
Or, you know, more wrong.
“Come on,” Luther says, and he’s not yelling. He’s trying not to yell, even as Diego seethes and Five writhes. “We’re supposed to be a team!”
“Yeah, sure,” Klaus says, getting to his feet gingerly. “But aren’t we really supposed to be a good team?”
“Well, it’d help if you’d focus,” Allison snipes.
“Please, you keep checking your phone the whole time,” Diego says, and he pulls away, getting to his feet with a vengeful look at Luther.
“You’re all amateurs,” Five says tersely, glaring at Luther until he sets his brother back on his feet. “And this whole thing is a disaster.”
“Was it always like this?” Vanya asks, a little tentative as she remains her place away from the others. “When you were kids?”
“Not with Dad,” Luther says. “He never would have tolerated it.”
Diego snorts. “But Dad’s not here, asshole.”
Luther has to bite back his reply, which wells up in his throat with so much force that it almost hurts. “Which is why we need to figure something out,” he says instead. He looks at them each in turn. “I’m open to ideas.”
“Individual training plans, mostly,” Diego says. “Limit the group time.”
“But then what about accountability?” Five asks. He shakes his head. “The approach needs to be more systematic. I’ve run some models on this--”
Allison rolls her eyes. “This is more than math,” she says. “And it’s more than a team. We have to be a family.”
“Exactly, family,” Klaus joins in. “So I’m thinking, no training at all. More relaxation. Oh, or we could each learn an instrument, something to channel our energy, and then we’d make a wonderful seven-piece band.”
Vanya is on her feet again, taking a tentative step forward. “But the Umbrella Academy--”
“We should just get a new name altogether--”
“That would be a waste of time--”
“We’re focusing on the wrong things--”
“What about baking instead?”
Several minutes later, Luther feels relieved that he’s managed to get them all to retire to their rooms without further physical violence.
Needless to say, there is no plan in place.
But beggars really can’t afford to be choosers.
-o-
Dad had been an authoritarian, so Luther tries a different approach. Instead of forced group sessions all the time, he makes a point to spend time with each sibling individually. He talks to them about their needs and wants and dreams. He lets them air their complaints, and he comes up with viable solutions. It’s his attempt to make peace.
They appreciate it, at least.
Not that it works.
Sure, it keeps them all going. They all continue to go to family meetings. They all keep up with their training regimens. But they don’t get better.
If anything, the resistance increases. The sense of disarray is continually enhanced. As Luther tries to pull them together, tries to make them a team, they’re further apart than ever. The arguments are more frequent; the dissent is more noted. The discussions become debates. The debates become arguments. The arguments are just shy of physical half the time, and the rest of the time?
Well, Luther isn’t dwelling on the rest of the time.
It seems like they’re losing common ground in everything, except one thing: the Umbrella Academy.
Despite the conflict, despite the controversy, they all want to bring back the Umbrella Academy. Each one, to a person, no doubt.
They just cannot agree, even a little bit, about how to make that happen.
“This talk, this planning -- it’s bullshit,” Diego insists at a family meeting one night. “We just need to get out there, in the field.”
Five nods along. “I agree,” he says. “It’s the only way to really see if we’re ready or not.”
“Uh, we’re not ready,” Allison interjects, her voice laden with doubt. “All we’d do is get our asses kicked -- or worse.”
“But that’s how it is,” Diego says. He flits his hand through the air. “You rise to the challenge or you don’t.”
“Yeah, I’m a little concerned about the don’t, to be honest,” Klaus hedges. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I think it means exactly what you think it means,” Ben adds gravely from over Klaus shoulder.
Vanya shakes her head, brows drawn together. “I’m just not sure I’ve got enough self control. What if I do something? Or what if I hold you all back?”
“But we’re not making progress this way,” Five says, and he’s logical but not unkind. “It doesn’t make sense to keep on like we are. We have to try something new.”
“Sure, but the field?” Allison asks. “We’re putting ourselves and others in danger.”
“You’re too tentative,” Diego shoots back.
“It’s called common sense,” Allison retorts cooly.
“Look, just look,” Luther says, stepping in before things continue to degrade. They’ve had this discussion more than once. And they’ve had this argument more than once, too. “We all want to be in the field, but I also think it’s premature.”
“But we’re going crazy here,” Five says.
“Some of us were already crazy, to be fair,” Klaus says.
Ben rolls his eyes.
“But we’ve all been in the field before,” Luther says. “It’s not some quick fix. There are real risks out there.”
“Whatever,” Diego says with a grunt. “At least Dad was never cautious. Say what you will about him, but he knew when to go for it.”
It produces the reaction you might expect. The others look more than a little off put.
Luther sighs. “I’m even talking practical measures,” he says. “Dad had a whole network to support the Umbrella Academy. We have to rebuild those connections, and we need to learn the contingency parameters. We need to have policies for when things go wrong -- which isn’t a question of if but when. So, it makes sense to wait, but we need to keep remembering this goal. We have to address our skills, and I’ll talk to Pogo, have him initiate the old procedures.”
It’s clear, calm, reasonable and moderate.
Naturally, Diego disagrees. “Yeah, since the old procedures worked so well.”
Luther looks at him, long, hard and tired. “I’m still listening for other productive ideas that don’t involve a baptism by fire.”
Stiffly, Diego shrugs, clearly miffed. “I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t,” Luther says. “Unless you have a better, more viable idea, this is what we have for now.”
It’s remarkable to Luther that they take that at face value when Luther himself knows it’s bullshit.
-o-
Pogo is amenable at least, but that’s about the only thing that goes right. Individually, training seems to go a little bit better, but they still are a mess as a group. They aren’t cohesive; they don’t listen. They’re self-centered and short-sighted, and Luther understands that but he can’t shake the nagging thought that it’s going to get them killed.
And that’s the thing that keeps him up at night.
If he’s Number One, if he’s in charge of this Umbrella Academy, then that’s on him. How can he lead them into the field when the risk of one of them not coming back is so high?
Alternatively, if he doesn’t reinstate the Umbrella Academy, will he be able to keep them together? He’ll lose them, one by one, without the structure and purpose of the team.
So he has to pick. Between keeping them together and keeping them safe.
He’s at his wit’s end, to say the least, but he can’t let go. He can’t indulge it.
If he falls apart, who will be left to keep them together?
He wonders if this is how his Dad felt, faced with impossible choices, impossible tasks, and impossible obstacles.
Because that’s what this all feels like now, more than anything: impossible.
Completely, utterly, wholly impossible.
-o-
Naturally, the temptation is there to go full-on Reginald Hargreeves. He wants to verbally take Diego down about five notches half the time, and he wants to take Allison’s phone and tell her that the world doesn’t revolve around her. He wants to tell Klaus how much of a disappointment he is, and he wants to remind Five how his hubris already got him stuck in the apocalypse once so maybe he should shut the hell up for a few minutes. He wants to remind Ben that being dead is not an excuse to be lazy, and he wants to tell Vanya that being special is something that isn’t given when you are born, you have to earn it, and she sure as hell isn’t earning it by hiding behind her doubts.
But that’s not how this is going to work. Luther is not his father. He will not be his father.
Therefore, the job comes second.
Family has to come first.
He checks himself, he holds his tongue, he keeps his temper.
Because for Luther, the family is the job.
And he’s not sure about anything else, but he’s quite confident in that.
-o-
This is how it is, Luther accepts.
This is how it has to be.
Until, one day, it isn’t.
-o-
Pogo takes the call.
In fact, Luther hardly hears the phone ring. For all that they are trained to save the world, they have very little interaction with the world. Apart from Allison’s reliance on her cell phone to keep in contact with Claire, there is very little outside contact. In fact, when the phone rings, Luther doesn’t even know what it is.
He wanders the house to investigate, finding the family phone on the lower level vacant. He hears a voice and makes his way upstairs, tiptoeing his way into his father’s office where he finds Pogo at the desk. He’s just hanging up the receiver now.
Pogo is old -- just how old, no one is exactly sure -- but he’s been old the entire time Luther’s known him. Serious and steady is the best way to describe him, though when Luther comes into the office, wide eyed and confused, Pogo’s expression is nothing short of grave.
“There’s been a call,” he explains.
Luther blinks stupidly. “A call?”
Pogo shifts his weight, lips thinning even more. “For the Umbrella Academy.”
“Oh,” Luther says, his stomach churning. “Oh.”
-o-
At first, he’s not sure he wants to call them together. He doesn’t want to induce conflict, and he knows this is an argument in the making. He could make a unilateral decision here -- it’s within his rights, probably. Even if it’s not, it’s not a bad decision and he knows it. It’s the pragmatic way forward.
And yet, Luther’s job isn’t to be pragmatic.
He’s not a dictator.
He’s a leader.
Which means they have to know.
His hesitation can only afford to be momentary. There is some leeway in the matter, but not a lot. These sorts of things are time sensitive, and Luther is aware that he has to be earnest in his attempts to inform his siblings. If he’s going to solicit their opinions, he needs to make sure their opinions actually count.
Fortunately, for once, they offer little resistance. Within two minutes, the whole family -- the whole team -- is assembled in the sitting room.
Luther clears his throat and clasps his hands. It feels awkward. He unclasps them and clears his throat. “For the sake of transparency, I think you should all know we have a pending call,” he explains.
He takes some satisfaction that they seem as confused by this as he was. At least they’re not starting out in completely different mindsets. “A call?” Vanya asks on behalf of them all.
Luther nods. “A request,” he clarifies as carefully as he can. “For the Umbrella Academy.”
They stare at him, wide eyed and somewhat expectant. Diego bobs his head. “What kind of request?”
“It’s a hot tip,” he says. “Someone has word that there’s going to be a hit at an art gallery downtown tonight. One of those elite, private kind of places.”
Allison looks innately skeptical. “So why don’t they call the cops if this tip is so hot?”
That’s a good question; the right question. Luther feels proud. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s been training them to think like this or because he’s completely infatuated with everything Allison does. “Like I said, it’s private ownership,” Luther explains. “Owner used to know Dad, liked his way of doing things. They thought they’d enlist us first before hiring private guns.”
Klaus’ eyes google a bit. “Guns? So it’s either us or mercenaries?”
“But that’s not what we do, is it?” Ben asks. “We work within the law.”
“Technically, yes,” Luther says. “But Pogo has vetted the request. This guy isn’t a criminal. He just doesn’t quite trust the local cops to get the job done. And with the level of the artwork in his care--”
“He doesn’t want to take any chances,” Five concludes. He gives a small shrug. “It’s not a bad move. Local cops aren’t going to exert the manpower needed to prevent a real hit.”
“So, in some ways, it’s the perfect starter job,” Diego says with a shrug. “We get some experience, build up our street cred again, with limited potential fallout. I’m not seeing the hesitation.”
“Well,” Luther hedges. “The hesitation is just that we’re still working out the kinks. I mean, you’ve seen us in training.”
“Hey, for the record, I think we’ve made a lot of progress,” Klaus says. “I mean, I haven’t had a laughing fit while trying to summon the dead in ages, and I really think I’m onto something with this levitation bit. Needs a little control--”
“A lot control,” Luther clarifies with a frown. “We don’t really function as a cohesive unit, is what I meant.”
“Sure, but our lack of cohesion is still better than most people would perform after years of refinement,” Five argues. “I completely agree we need some work, but I hardly think we’re not up for the task.”
“But it’s the real deal,” Luther points out. “Real bad guys. Real ammunition. They’ll be trying to hurt us.”
“Well, we’re going to have to face it sooner or later,” Allison says. She shrugs, just a tad apologetic. “It’s not like the extra training sessions are getting us there.”
Luther feels a tug inside him, almost a sense of dreaded inevitability. The tide is turning against him, and as much as he wants to exert his power and his influence, he can’t. Because he’s not his father. He won’t be his father.
Even when sometimes he thinks he should be.
“Are you all sure, then?” he asks quietly. “Is this really what you want to do?”
“It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?” Vanya asks. “This is what we’ve all signed up for.”
There’s solidarity; agreement.
It’s the first thing they’ve agreed on in weeks.
Luther can’t fight that.
Well, maybe he can, but ultimately, he won’t.
He nods, swallowing back his trepidation.
“Okay, then,” he says. “We’ll take the job.”
-o-
They have agreed on this job.
That is, probably, the only thing they agree on. From the very get go, things feel wildly out of control. Diego argues that they need a faster response time while Allison lectures them all about doing things the right way. Five complains that they all have to go in the same car, and Klaus feels compelled to argue about the route while Ben inadvertently floats in and out of existence in front of the windshield while claiming it’s not his fault. Vanya tries to back out several times, and they’re well behind schedule by the time Luther actually gets them to the job.
Things do not go better upon arrival. The person who hired them is not around, and Pogo has managed to arrange for the normal security detail -- a two man job -- to go home for the night. This is intended to minimize complications, but Luther simply sees it as a small way to preserve any chance they have at building a reputation from this job. Because if anyone saw them now, they would never imagine that the Umbrella Academy could be an effective crime fighting unit.
They argue about positions. They bicker over process. No one stays at their post, and they are so busy butting heads that they almost talk right through the alarm tripping on the exterior.
“Hey!” Luther calls to silence them. He dips his head toward the monitor, where a sizeable strike force is amassing at the gate. The others gather closer, growing silent for the first time all night. “We have to put this stuff behind us now. If we’re going to do this, we need to be totally united. Do we agree?”
Diego’s face is solemn. Allison blinks her dark eyes. Klaus nods a few time convulsively, and Five presses his lips into a thin line. Ben flickers once or twice and solidifies, and Vanya lets out a long, slow breath.
“Okay,” Luther says, wishing he felt more confident than he did. “Then let’s do this.”
-o-
The attack is clearly being orchestrated by professionals. They have skill and precision and experience -- none of which the Umbrella Academy can match. The fact that they have superpowers is probably the only thing that keeps the whole ordeal from being a complete and utter disaster.
The group has divided throughout the house to expedite the job, and Luther has no choice but to follow suit. There is much debate over the fact, but eventually he sends Diego, Klaus and Ben to the basement while he leads Five, Allison and Vanya to attack the primary attack party in the main hall.
There are moments of brilliance, of course. He and Allison can read each other well, and Five takes extra care with Vanya. They do manage to take down several of the assailants, but they’re not quite effective enough to prevent a full retreat. With a lack of overall organization, there is no plan for this, and Luther is dismayed by how quickly the attack squad regroups and reorganizes. Diego, Klaus and Ben come upstairs, breathless and somewhat worse for wear, and there is barely a minute to regroup before the next wave comes.
“Damn, these guys are trained!” Diego says.
Allison is dabbing at a cut on her lip. “And well armed.”
“Uh, yeah, and they really aren’t running away,” Klaus hems. “I mean, I thought they’d run away by now!”
“No, these guys are professionals,” Five says with a shake of his head. “They won’t quit until the job is done.”
“Which means what for us, then?” Ben asks.
Vanya is sober and wide eyed. Shakier than she has been all night. “That we have to take them down,” she says. “Or they’ll take us down.”
There’s a part of Luther who wants to call for retreat. It’s probably the smarter tactical move. Even with their success so far, they are still outnumbered. And their resolve is at the precipice.
What would their father do?
What would his siblings have him do?
What does Luther think should happen?
These factors, these pressing factors, are all at odds with one another and Luther doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how this ends. He just knows that he can’t decide.
There’s no time, anyway.
There is a noise at the door. Luther swallows. “Well, then,” he says, pulling himself up to full strength for the sake of the others. “It’s time.”
-o-
The second wave of fighting is even more haphazard than the first. That’s not to say it’s wholly ineffective -- on their own, each member of the Umbrella Academy is strong enough. Diego pins a few with his knives. Allison goes hand to hand and holds her own. Klaus and Ben are getting better, and they manage to make short work of another few. Vanya is the most unsteady of them all, but she follows in Five’s wake and they seem to have a certain balance among them. Luther takes out a handful with his bare hands and he thinks for a moment -- just a beautiful, fleeting moment -- that this might all work out after all.
The moment passes.
And Luther is left, face to face, with reality.
They aren’t ready for the field. The Umbrella Academy is not a united front. They are a mess; they are selfish and inconsistent and utterly splintered. They have saved the world, this is true, but it’s not enough to save them from disaster.
And disaster is coming.
Disaster is here.
The crazy part is that Luther sees it happening.
He sees it, step by step, almost like it is happening in slow motion.
That is his job, after all. It is what he was trained to do as Number One. His father had taken it quite seriously, and the instruction had been explicit and strict. It was Luther’s responsibility, his sole responsibility to anticipate all possible avenues during a mission. If Luther was to be his father's surrogate in the field, then he had to have this insight. He had to see how any given situation would unfold before it ever came to pass. Such foresight was more powerful than any other strength Luther would possess, and his father made sure he never forgot it.
The others had never understood.
Never.
They still don’t; they can’t.
That’s a flaw now. That’s a possibly fatal flaw.
The others had always thought his training was entirely physical, focusing on harnessing his natural, brute strength -- but that had always come easily for him. It didn’t take training to lift a grown man. It didn’t require practice to throw him out a window.
No, training had been needed for context. His training had been about learning when and how to make those kind of life and death decisions for the betterment of the family. He’d been coached on contingencies. His father had drilled him on failsafes. Luther had learned, more than anything else, how to protect the academy.
His father’s words were still etched into his memory. He can still practically hear them, echoing in his ears.
It’s your job to bring your siblings home above all else. You have to look out for them, all of them. They all have their jobs to do, but they are your Number One. Put them first always.
That part hadn’t come naturally, but Luther had always been eager to please. In this, he had been a diligent student. Not the smartest, not the most clever, but the most committed. The most dedicated. Luther tried harder than the others -- always had. He took his obligations seriously. If he didn’t, he hated to think what would happen.
He hadn’t even been able to conceptualize it as a child. Abstract warnings. Disassociated fears. Untethered threats.
Then Five had disappeared.
Then Ben had died.
The world had gone and ended.
And it isn’t abstract anymore. It isn’t disassociated or untethered. It is real, it is prescient.
To no end. Because Luther can work hard but it isn’t hard enough. Luther can oblige but he never has enough to give. No matter how much he anticipates, he cannot avert disaster. He can’t keep them together. One by one, he has watched them walk out the door and not look back before.
He wonders -- he wonders -- if they will do it again.
Before, when they had first left, he’d consoled himself that it was easier this way. He’d told himself it was more efficient; there were fewer variables in the field.
And it had been, in some ways.
But in his efficiency, he’d been vulnerable.
And he’d never been happy.
This is what he wants: the Umbrella Academy.
This is all he’s ever wanted.
He just doesn’t know how to keep it. He’d thought maybe breaking with that training would free them all, make them want to stay.
But now he’s faced with the fear -- the pressing fear -- that that lack of discipline may come at a far greater cost.
It’s his mistake; it’s his. He’s known all along, but he’s made the choice to look the other way. His training has been screaming in his ear, and he’s turned his back to it.
He’s made choices.
They’ve made choices.
Those choices are being called to account -- right here, right now.
The thing is, none of the choices being made are bad. In fact, when considered in isolation his siblings are making sound, reasonable and caring choices.
Sometimes, all the right choices turn out right.
Maybe there are no right choices.
Maybe there are just choices.
Choices you can’t take back.
No matter how much you wish you could.
Allison, in an effort to expedite the process, rumors one of the assailants toward the nearest exit. This, however, puts the guard in Klaus’ path. To accommodate the change, Klaus projects Ben across the room, thus blocking Diego’s path toward his assailant. Diego compensates instinctively, bending his knife on a different trajectory. Meanwhile, Vanya is still new to combat. As she struggles to get her bearings, Five is distracted. He jumps in her direction instead of keeping his assigned position.
Theses decisions are made in isolation. They are made with skill, precision and the best of intentions. They are still, however, isolated from one another.
They cannot play out in isolation.
They’re connected, intertwined irrevocably.
Inseparable.
This is when it happens
Five completes his jump, cutting through space with a flash of blue. As he materializes, Diego’s knife bends, curving into the blue as it tears and comes together once more. For a second, neither quite exists fully. Then, the next second, they exist together. Two objects, solid and unyielding, occupying the exact same space.
Five comes back to this plane, still in motion, but he comes to a staggering stop. He looks down, more surprised than anything. He looks down and sees what Luther has seen coming.
Diego’s knife.
Buried to its hilt.
Directly in Five’s chest.
For a surreal moment, everything stops. Five stands, mouth hanging open. He looks down at the knife almost like he doesn’t understand what it is. He reaches his hand up, still half poised mid stride, and he touches his chest. His fingers come away bloody.
Diego stares, horrified. Allison inhales sharply, his voice stolen in breathless surprise. Klaus stops in his tracks, hand to his mouth in shock while Ben flickers in and out. Vanya is the one who calls out, her voice laden with panic and grief. “Five!”
Five looks at his hand. He looks at the others. Finally, he looks down to the growing red spot on his front. “Shit,” he says, giving voice to what they’re all thinking.
Then he looks up again, color draining from his face, before his knees give out and he crumples to the ground.
The failed end to the first successful mission of the Umbrella Academy.