Umbrella Academy fic: Thicker Than Blood (4/13)
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-
Diego took off down the hall at a run and nearly collided with Five when he rematerialized. He skidded to a halt, slamming into a wall to avoid tackling his brother, and cursed. “What the hell is going on?”
Five responded, looking harried. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Clearing the basement--”
“Well, stop,” Five said. “The family is home. When I finished clearing my half, I started to explore upstairs.”
“Let me guess,” Diego said, heart pounding. “You found them in the panic room?”
Five looked at him quizzically. “How did you know that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Diego said, his jaw working. He felt sick, honestly. But there was no time for that. He adjusted his grip on his knife out of reflex. “You found the bomb?”
“Attached to the locking mechanism and hooked up to a timer,” Five said. “I can’t get the family out safely and deactivate the bomb. I need help.”
Diego’s mind was reeling, going faster than he could keep up with. This guy, whoever he was, had staked out this house, this particular house. He’d broken in without triggering the alarm just to set up a bomb on the panic room door and then reset the alarm. When the family noticed, they did the smart thing and retreated to the panic room, thus locking themselves into an explosive fate.
It was a stupidly elaborate scheme, the kind Sir Reginald would have loved. But it depended on so many variables, and not just from the unsuspecting family. How could the man be sure the cops wouldn’t show up first? How could he know that Diego would be there? How could he be so sure his timing was impeccable? How could he be so damn sure?
“Diego,” Five said.
Startling, Diego looked at Five again, who glared at him in determination.
“Can you do that? Can you disarm the bomb?”
Diego had trained himself on everything. Before quitting, he’d thought about a place on the SWAT team. He’d fancied the notion of being the first knife expert. “How big is it?”
“Enough to take out the whole block in a fiery explosion while everyone sleeps,” Five said. “But the mechanism looks straightforward enough.”
It was almost funny the assumptions they could make about each other in this family. Of course a bomb was straightforward. Of course they could disarm it. Of course.
“You sure it’s that bad?” Diego asked.
“If I thought I could do this alone, I would,” Five said. “But I know when I need backup. So here I am, asking for backup.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Diego said, forcing himself to focus. “Let’s do the job, then.”
“Good,” Five said, and he turned toward the stairs. “Follow me!”
That wasn’t usually Diego’s things, but lives were on the line, so this time, he’d make an exception.
-o-
It was three flights up, and Five was sweating by the time they got there. “This was easier when I jumped,” he muttered, coming to a stop. “The bomb is right there. The family is on the inside. Two adults, three children. Also some yappy little dog.”
Diego came closer to the bomb, giving it a once over while he pretended not to be as winded as he was. “And you can get them out? I thought you had trouble jumping with people?”
“Well, it’s not exactly like any of it is easy,” Five said, his tone sardonic. “But there’s no other way. If you mess up the bomb, they’re dead -- and so is everyone up and down the street. That’s a chance I’d rather not take if we can help it.”
“You can get them far enough to be clear?” Diego asked, choosing not to think about how that resigned him to be the fall guy if things went bad. He looked at the bomb, counting down with three minutes left. It seemed like things could definitely go bad.
“I can get them outside, then I presume they have working legs,” Five said. “I can have them get the neighbors while they flee.”
Diego winced, wracking his brain to remember the rudimentary lessons about circuitry. He really did spend a lot of time playing with knives. It was perhaps time to widen his skill set. Or, you know, work on a team. “You better get on it, then.”
Five, unexpectedly, hesitated. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “There would be nothing wrong with you leading the evacuation down the street.”
“What, and letting this place blow?” Diego asked.
“We could still save lives,” Five reminded him.
“It’s too risky,” Diego said. “Besides, it’d come back to the Academy. This house, these secrets. We can’t risk it.”
“It’s your choice, Diego,” he said, plain and serious. Sincerity, you might call it. In the way that a 13 year old assassin can be sincere. “I want you to know that. I would look down on you for choosing the easy way.”
“This is the job,” Diego said. “I’m doing it.”
“Okay,” Five said, and he grimaced. “Good luck.”
Diego scoffed like he wouldn’t need it as Five blinked his way into the room.
He looked at the bomb again and swallowed back his curse, his confidence going down with it.
If he had to tell the truth, he’d take that luck right now.
With shaking fingers, he got to work.
-o-
Three minutes and six seconds.
That was how much time Diego had to disarm a bomb, save lives and preserve his family’s legacy.
For the first minute, he worked his way through the circuitry. He cut a wire or two, but it didn’t seem to do anything, not with the timer still ticking down and the device still fully armed. Feeling vexed, he went after the interface instead, surprised when it opened up a computer screen and promptly asked for a password.
Frustrated, Diego spent the next minute with the wires again. He had trouble sorting through them, but he was pretty sure he cut one of the motion activation sensors, for whatever that was worth now. He had to hope that Five had the family clear by now.
The timer flashed from one minute to 59 seconds as the time peeled away. Diego’s heart thudded so loudly that it deafened him. His chest was tight.
What was he doing?
What the hell was he doing?
This wasn’t the job. This wasn’t actually the job.
He wasn’t a bomb specialist. He had no way in hell of knowing what he was doing and one wrong move would not only kill him but everyone who had yet to get clear. No, it was clear, he had to stop messing with the wires.
He looked at the interface again.
It wanted a six digit code.
If Five were here, the little brat could probably tell him how many possible number combinations you could make with six digits. He would probably tell him that the probability of cracking that kind of code was astronomical or something. He’d reason that Diego was better off cutting the wires or just running like hell. Either way, there was no way he was going to randomly get lucky and enter the correct six digit code within 50 seconds.
But what if Diego didn’t have to randomly guess?
What if Diego knew?
Because he didn’t know shit about this guy. Not a single usable thing.
But this guy knew everything about him.
In fact, the guy said it more or less. This whole thing? The whole debacle? It was about Diego. Why? Diego didn’t have a clue, but that was the thing. He didn’t have to have a clue about why. He just needed to know six number. Six numbers that defined him.
The clock read 44 seconds.
It couldn’t be that easy?
But who the hell said anything about this was easy?
41 seconds.
The room inside was quiet, at least. No voices. No yappy dog. No flashes of electricity or glimpses of blue light. Maybe that meant that Five was done, that everyone was safe. Maybe that meant that it was just Diego now.
Maybe it meant a lot of things.
Maybe it meant just on thing.
The clock ticked down to 33 seconds, and Diego’s chest felt like it was ready to burst. The six digits mocked him, and he fought against his instincts. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
With his family, anything was more than possible.
Hell, with his family, anything was likely. Expecting the unexpected. Predicting the impossible. Accepting the improbable.
This guy, the one behind the mall, the one in the basement, he didn’t want Diego dead. He didn’t. Which meant, whatever this bomb’s trick is, it was meant to give Diego an out. This bomb was designed for Diego to disarm.
26 seconds.
This guy knew Diego.
He knew what Diego would think.
Which meant this first, irrational impulse was predictable.
22 seconds.
It was probably right.
The clock ticked down more, 21 seconds, 20 seconds, 19.
And Diego took a ragged, desperate breath, mustered his courage and typed in the six numbers that defined him more than anything else.
10-01-89.
It was stupid, yes. It was illogical, obviously.
But at 17 seconds, the clock stopped and the bomb didn’t explode.
Diego’s breath caught painfully for another two seconds before he realized that he’d done it.
The bomb was disarmed.
He’d saved the family; he’d ostensibly saved Five and the whole damn neighborhood. He’d played the part of the hero just as required.
In short, Diego had completed the job.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe.
Business as usual had never felt so unusual after all.
-o-
The walk back down the stairs was longer than Diego remembered it being. From earlier in the evening to his days as a child, he didn’t recall each step looking so imposing as he scaled his way back down, each footfall just as shaky as the last.
The shakiness didn’t exactly make sense. He had gotten the job done, after all. He’d saved people. And yet, he couldn’t shake the terrible reality that the job wasn’t even close to done. Whoever the maniac was in the basement, he had gotten away presumably. Even if this wasn’t personal -- and Diego wasn’t sure how it couldn’t be, at this point -- it was still unfinished business in Diego’s book.
Still struggling to catch his breath as the adrenaline coursed through his body, he made his way out onto the front porch. The street wasn’t as quiet as it was before -- there were lights on up and down the row of dilapidated houses, and front doors had been left open. The recent activity made the quiet in its stead almost eerie, and Diego was so transfixed by the stillness that he nearly tripped over Five.
Five, as it turned out, was sitting on the porch, propped up against the railing. He roused when Diego ran into him, but the suddenness only threatened to topple him more profoundly, and Diego had to sit down hastily next to him, grab him by the shoulder and keep him upright.
“Five,” he said, a note of anger in his voice. It wasn’t concern; he didn’t have time to be concerned. He was pissed off that the plan had played out as badly as it had. “Why the hell are you still here? I thought you were evacuating the neighborhood.”
What Diego didn’t say was that he thought that Five had safely evacuated himself, too. It was a horrible thought. Diego pressing random numbers on a whim with his brother still in the blast radius. Killing himself for his own stupidity was one thing. Killing Five?
Diego was Number Two. That shit didn’t fly.
With some difficult, Five blinked open his eyes. “I did,” he said, but the words were slurred. It was obvious with closer inspection that Five was pale and shaky. “I got the family out and sent them on their way. I told them to get the rest of the neighborhood out and to keep running for five minutes without looking back. I...I think it worked.”
He said that drowsily, looking around as if the see if he had gotten that part right. The movement of his head seemed to be too much, however, and he gave up the effort.
Diego shook him, trying to bring his attention back around. “So you thought you’d just sit here?” he asked pointedly. “If the bomb had gone off….”
Five mustered up enough energy to look perturbed. “Three kids, two adults -- one of whom was massive, mind you -- and two dogs. Do you have any idea the amount of energy it took to make that many consecutive jumps with passengers? I barely made the last one with the dog. At this point, I’m surprised that I’m even conscious right now.”
“But you were supposed to get out of here,” Diego said, stubborn and insistent.
Five huffed, rolling his eyes as he settled his head back against the railing. “What part of exhaustion is truly so hard for you to grasp?”
“Hey,” Diego said, giving Five another shake. “We’re not done here.”
Five dragged his eyes open and looked none too pleased about it. “We need to be done here,” he muttered. “They were running like hell, and I told the family not to mention us, but they will call the cops sooner rather than later. If they find us here, it’ll be one hell of a mess.”
Diego couldn’t deny that, but he still shook his head. “But we need to check the basement, make sure it’s still clear and lock up again. The weapons…”
Five nodded, increasingly drowsy once again. “We need to secure them,” he said, all but murmuring now. “If they’re still there…”
“Five,” Diego said, prodding him once more. “Five!”
Five mumbled something again, but the words were unintelligible this time. It was annoying -- and really, a bit concerning -- but considering the fact that time traveling with his siblings had left Five nearly catatonic for a week straight, a little sleepiness probably wasn’t that big of a deal. It also wasn’t unexpected.
It was, however, inconvenient.
Sighing, Diego looked up and down the street again, roughly trying to gauge how much time he had left before the cops showed up. He was in Beaman’s good graces at the moment, and with their ties to the property, it wasn’t a suspicious connection. That said, it was an unnecessary complication. If Diego wanted to keep his side gig on the side, without his family’s interference, then he had to wrap this up without anything on the books.
Plus, he didn’t know who he was dealing with yet. If this was personal, then Diego didn’t want the cops sniffing around it -- not even Beaman. Hell, Patch had already been killed because of her attachment to Diego. He couldn’t risk it happening to anyone else.
Besides, if the weapons in the sub basement were found, then that would be a problem.
Thus resolved, Diego made sure Five was secure, easing him down to the ground, tucked out of sight in the shadows in case someone happened by. Then, he got up and made his way quickly back inside. This time, though his legs still felt a little rubbery, he moved quickly, retracing the path down to the sub basement at a much faster pace. The lights were still on; the doors were still open. This time, when he reached the lonely stretch of hallway, he skipped the other doors and charged straight to the one on the end.
Inside, his heart sunk and his stomach clenched.
It wasn’t empty, but it was pretty well cleared out. There were a few boxes left -- one or two of ammo and one of hand grenades -- but the rest of the weaponry -- including that damn rocket launcher -- had been stripped clean. It wasn’t possible with just one guy, which meant that Diego’s secret admirer had had helped.
Which meant this wasn’t random at all. This was targeted; this was plotted. The bomb upstairs had been a test for Diego, maybe. But it had also been a distraction. By keeping Diego preoccupied, it had been possible to clear out the cache. To what end? There was no way to know for sure, but if the mall attack was a prelude, then Diego was pretty sure he didn’t want to find out what came next.
Unfortunately, given the intricacy of the plan and Diego’s role in it, he was pretty sure that he would have no choice in the matter.
That was the way it went, after all.
Life was a series of inevitable realities and no matter how hard Diego tried, he could never, ever escape that.
Damn it, though.
He would go down trying.
-o-
There was a lot to think about, but there was no time to think about it now. Five’s assessment that they needed to get the hell out of dodge made sense, and Diego had frittered away more time than he had already.
On his way back up, he made sure to lock the rooms, turn off the lights and obscure the passageways. No doubt, with more time and more thought, he could have done a better job, but he knew the police was overworked these days. The bomb would raise some red flags, but with no evidence of anything stolen, it wouldn’t be a high priority case.
All Diego had to do was make sure that evidence remained inaccessible.
He also had to get out of the area -- and drag his brother’s ass along with him.
Back upstairs, Diego didn’t bother to secure the house. The family would have to report a break in, and Diego couldn’t do anything about any circumstantial evidence he may have left behind. Instead, he focused on getting out the front door, pausing long enough on the stoop to drag Five back into a seated position.
“Come on,” he said, dragging the smaller brother to his feet. “Time to go.”
Five roused, though he swayed drunkenly. He managed to keep his feet beneath him as Diego right him, but there was no evidence he could have remained upright without help. “What?”
Diego didn’t have time to indulge him. He started forward, keeping a firm grip on Five as he stumbled beside him. “Job’s done. We need to get out of here,” he said, and he gave his brother a look. “The cops are coming, remember?”
Blinking a few times, it was hard to tell what Five remembered. They thumped down the steps toward the car. By the time they hit the walk, Five was moving a little bit more of his own volition, at least. “You secured the basement?”
Diego also didn’t have time to look impressed, but it was reassuring to know that Five wasn’t quite as out of it as he looked. “Sure did,” he said. “You sure that family’s not going to say anything?”
“About the weird kid who jumped them through walls?” Five asked. His eyes were staying open now at least, even if he still looked a little glazed over. “Also, I promised them a reduction in rent for six months if they kept their mouth shut. I didn’t clear that with Pogo, but I figured, desperate times.”
This time, Diego did raise his eyebrows. They were nearly at the curb now, and Diego used Five’s increased awareness to move a little faster. The air was still quiet, but Diego can feel the tension building, like oxygen in his lungs ready to burst. “I’m pretty sure we can work something out,” he said, and he led Five to the car, propping him up a little while he opened the front door.
It swung open heavily with a creak. Five didn’t need to be instructed on what to do; he looked almost relieved to sink down into the seat, and Diego slammed the door shut after him before jogging around to the driver’s side. As he opened the door, he heard the first distant siren. By the time he had sat down, he could hear more.
There was still time to get out, but they were cutting it close. He glanced over at Five. “You buckled?” he asked, hastily pulling his own seatbelt before slipping the key into the ignition.
Five looked put out but followed suit. “As long as you don’t make me sit in the backseat like Luther does.”
Diego almost grinned as he put the car into gear. “So you’re saying you like me better than Luther?”
Five grunted, not a denial or an assent. “I’m saying drive, jackass. Before this job ends up as more of a fiasco than it already is.”
It was the truth, and it was still an exaggeration. Diego pulled away from the curb with a lurch, speeding down the street and making a hard, first turn as soon as he could. In the rearview mirror, the house disappeared from view.
That was the thing though, wasn’t it? That you could walk away all you wanted.
That didn’t mean you left anything behind.
Even when you meant to.
Even when you wanted to.
Even when that was the only thing you were trying to do.
Even then.
Diego hit the accelerator a little harder.
Especially then.
-o-
In a perfect world, Diego would have taken a direct route back to the mansion. This would allow him time to rest and recuperate, going over the details of the night’s events in order to make them parse.
No, that wasn’t true.
In a perfect world, he would never have stopped doing the job. He would have been with the Umbrella Academy to stop the mall attack, thereby preventing tonight from ever occurring.
That didn’t happen, though. So, in the far less than perfect world, Diego was stuck taking the long way home in an attempt to avoid the police dragnet. He drove out, sneaking through a few back alleys and side streets before moving along in the wrong direction on the bluffs that rose and fell near the river valley nearby.
Some might call it the scenic route.
Diego just called it an inconvenience.
Though, he had to be honest, maybe it wasn’t an inconvenience. As long as he was driving, then he wasn’t having to face what happened. While he was still in transit, then he didn’t have to think about what had happened -- not while it was still happening. He didn’t have to think about the smile he would plaster on his face for his siblings. He wouldn’t have to think about the half lies he would tell so he didn’t have to tell them the truth.
He looked at Five again. In the five minutes since they had left the scene, his brother had grown increasingly aware. He was sitting up straighter, his gaze clearing. But he was unusually quiet, and Diego could practically feel the questions he wasn’t asking as they passed each block.
Avoidance would work with the others, but Five was in this too deep. Five had seen too much; he wasn’t going to settle for a half version of the truth.
That was a pity, then. Diego wasn’t sure what the truth was right then.
Had the guy known him? Had he really? Had his birthday really been the passcode? Had this been nothing more than a coincidence? Was Diego making shit up to make himself feel important? Was his detachment from the job and his need to do the job making him see things that weren’t there?
Instead of asking those questions, Diego asked a distracting one instead.
With a nod toward Five, Diego prompted benignly, “Feeling better?”
The car skipped over uneven ground as Five stared out the windshield. The car was moving fast, but not too fast. At this point, speeding home would only attract attention. This far from the crime scene, his best bet was to be unobtrusive.
Five sounded more alert, but that only served to amplify the concern in his voice. “This was a bad idea. I was wrong. I should have done more calculations.”
Diego made a face, eyes on the road again. With all the shit that had gone down, that was the last conclusion Diego would come to. It wasn’t that they had done too much; it was that they had done too little. “No, you weren’t wrong,” he said sharply. “I mean, come on. We saved lives tonight. Actual people are alive because we didn’t sit on our asses and do nothing.”
“Did we, though? The bad guys still got away, and we don’t know anything about them,” Five said. He looked at Diego plainly now.
“That’s not true,” Diego insisted, not meeting Five’s gaze in return. His heart skipped a beat, and his palms were sweaty. The truth was almost sitting there, almost on the tip of his tongue. It burned in his chest, but he held his breath in and didn’t dare speak.
“Well, we know nothing that says our interference was a good idea,” Five continued. “You said they knew it?”
“Yeah, I mean, kind of it,” Diego said, hedging now. He wanted to retreat for some reason. He wanted to go back. “It was weird.”
“That’s not a coincidence,” Five said, shaking his head. Tired as he was, he wasn’t quite perceptive enough to realize just how much Diego was keeping from him. “We didn’t save anyone. We merely put them in danger.”
“Those people would have died without us there,” Diego argued. Because that had to be the point. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t that the point? Diego had thought it was; he had needed it to be.
“But they never would have been in danger in the first place without our involvement,” Five posited.
“These people, whoever they are, they’re responsible for the mall attack,” Diego told him.
“Wait, what?” Five asked. His eyes goggled at that as he looked at Diego in shock.
“Yeah, the guy in the basement, the one who knew me, he killed all those people at the mall,” he said.
Five’s mind was visibly working. “But why would something so broad like a domestic terrorist incident be linked to something so targeted like a home invasion?” he asked. He wrinkled his nose, as if the thought involved were almost too much for him at the moment. “That doesn’t make sense, not from a terrorism perspective.”
“Well, maybe they needed a weapons source,” Diego said. “Something without political ties.”
It wasn’t a bad conjecture, but it was idle conjecture. It was conjecture Diego was coming up with because the alternatives were too hard to grapple with right now.
Five wasn’t going to allow him that out, however. “That’s not implausible, but the coincidence is too great,” he said. “If this was an attack of convenience, then where was the actual convenience? Finding that cache would take more time and planning than the full scope of the mall attack.”
Diego felt his stomach tighten. He kept his hands stiff on the wheels. “So maybe they did take more time on that hit,” he said. “Maybe they planned the attack on the house first and did the mall as an aside.”
Five was practically gaping at him now, and Diego knew it was with reason. He knew it because he’d been wrestling with the same thoughts all along. He’d been wrestling, and he wanted -- he needed -- someone else to say it for him.
“But that would mean that they didn’t target the mall and then target us,” Five said. “It means that they targeted the mall as a part of their plan to target us.”
Five let out a breath, and he looked dazed again.
Diego almost didn’t trust himself to speak. He trusted himself less not to. “This guy, the one downstairs. He was weird, man. He wasn’t normal.”
Five’s exhaustion was showing again. Wearily, he shook his head and didn’t ask Diego to explain. “This is a mistake. We should have told the others. We need to tell them as soon as we get home.”
Fingers flexed on the wheel, Diego felt his hackles raise. The curve of the road dipped closer to the river, which rushed not far below beyond the rusted guardrail. “No, absolutely not,” he said, and he hoped that if he sounded resolute that it wouldn’t betray the utter irrationality of his position. Whatever the hell was going on here, Diego was one guy, and his head was spinning. He lacked perspective. He needed clarity.
But this whole thing was irrational. All of it. The fact that they were as powerful as they were and none of them felt compelled to be here, except for Five, who was just bored. That was irrational, more than the rest. They made their choice; Diego respecting it.
The fact that he didn’t want to tell them was notwithstanding. And really, what was he going to say? Was he going to tell him that this asshole knew Diego by name? Was he going to explain how he guessed the six digit code? This was about Diego, see. This was about Diego.
This wasn’t about family.
“Diego--”
Five was speaking, had been speaking. Diego pulled himself from the reverie, eyes fixed on the road. The river was high with recent rains; it looked dark and cold.
“Diego,” Five said again, and the pale hue of his skin only accentuate how emphatic he looked. “We need to tell them everything.”
Diego’s lip curled. “They didn’t want the job, and this is the job,” he said. “My job.”
“So, what? I’m not even counting now?”
Diego gave him a critical look. “You came along because you were bored. That’s hardly a commitment.”
Five looked perturbed, in a way that a typical 13 year old shouldn’t be able. “You can’t let your silly pride get in the way of what’s smart,” he said. “I know you’re young, so you think you’re invincible, but having people to back you up is everything. Don’t be so foolish as to ignore that.”
“I tried, remember?” Diego asked, voice cutting sharply now. “They all needed time.”
“And you’re not willing to give them that?” Five demanded. “All the sacrifices we’ve made for each other, and you’re willing to throw it away for time.”
The words were dripping with sarcasm. Diego rolled his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk,” he said. “You walked out of the house to do your own thing before any of us. You left.”
It was a little bit of a low blow -- a lot of a low blow. He had never believed in fighting fair, after all. He would take his punches wherever he could get them, and a winning blow was a winning blow, no matter how it was delivered.
To his dismay, Five merely narrowed his eyes, as if assessing Diego. “So that’s your answer then? You’re really going to leave?”
Diego had always thought if he could dish it out, he ought to be able to take it, but Five’s comment still hits him like a punch to the gut. He startled, thankful that he was driving on a straight section of the road as it loped down by the banks. “What?” he asked, voice almost cracking. He laughed, but it was a small, desperate sound. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you’re going to,” Five said, and he appeared to be concentrating rather hard to make the observation. Maybe that was his exhaustion; maybe Five was still that bad with people. “It’s written all over your face.”
Diego looked ahead again, trying to look pissed off more than anything. That didn’t matter; none of this mattered. That wasn’t the point of this anyway. Five was the one who was taking them off topic now. “It wouldn’t matter if I did,” he said shortly. “That’s what people do, you know? It’s called living your life.”
It was what people did to be happy.
It was what people did to protect themselves.
It was just what people did.
This only seemed to be more illogical to Five than anything else. “But people are stupid by and large. You don’t throw away what matters most.”
Diego was insulted, and he didn’t think his response was unduly petulant. Five was a prick. “And who the hell are you to decide that for me?”
Five was the one who looked 13, but Diego was pretty sure he was the one who sounded it now. Family did that to him, more than anything else. Family brought out this side of him, this side that he hated. This part where he was never good enough, where he never quite fit in. It was stupid to pretend like it was all about the job.
Five, for all that he could be a smartass, looked surprisingly sympathetic. “I just know what I threw away when I left,” he said. “And I know what I had to sacrifice to get it back. It’s not a mistake I intend on making again. I think you’d be happier if you didn’t either.”
Diego made a face, casting a glare at his brother. “I’m not you,” he said. “And you’re full of shit anyway.”
“I know what I’m talking about.”
“Whatever, okay?” Diego said, turning toward one of the bridges to take them back toward the mansion. “Let’s just go home.”
“And what?” Five asked. “Pretend like nothing happened?”
At a traffic light before the bridge, Diego shook his head. “You can’t tell them.”
“Of course I can’t,” Five said. “You haven’t even told me the full story yet.”
Diego pressed his lips together. It would be silly to hope that Five was too tired to remember this conversation. The prick was fully coherent now, and he looked like shit, but he was talking with his full faculties. “There’s nothing to tell.”
It was a stupid, obvious kind of lie.
Those were Diego’s specialty.
Five snorted in the seat next to him, face composed warily as the light turned green and Diego started across the bridge.
“Family is hard, I know that. Sometimes it feels impossible,” Five told him, as Diego pointedly didn’t look at him. “But you can’t leave it behind, Diego. Not even if you want to.”
He turned toward Five, a retort on his lips, but they were cut short when Five’s face contorted.
“Look out!”
Diego turned forward just in time to see the headlights coming at him. The car veered heavily into his lane, and Diego had minimal time to react. He jerked the wheel, slamming on the brakes. Tires squealed on the pavement, and Diego had a half second to think that maybe he’d averted disaster this time.
But then the other car rammed into him, plowing them sideways, and Diego didn’t have time to yell a warning before the car was sent spinning through the barrier, careening recklessly to the dark water below.
Right, wrong, or anything in between.
This was really going to suck.
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-
Diego took off down the hall at a run and nearly collided with Five when he rematerialized. He skidded to a halt, slamming into a wall to avoid tackling his brother, and cursed. “What the hell is going on?”
Five responded, looking harried. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Clearing the basement--”
“Well, stop,” Five said. “The family is home. When I finished clearing my half, I started to explore upstairs.”
“Let me guess,” Diego said, heart pounding. “You found them in the panic room?”
Five looked at him quizzically. “How did you know that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Diego said, his jaw working. He felt sick, honestly. But there was no time for that. He adjusted his grip on his knife out of reflex. “You found the bomb?”
“Attached to the locking mechanism and hooked up to a timer,” Five said. “I can’t get the family out safely and deactivate the bomb. I need help.”
Diego’s mind was reeling, going faster than he could keep up with. This guy, whoever he was, had staked out this house, this particular house. He’d broken in without triggering the alarm just to set up a bomb on the panic room door and then reset the alarm. When the family noticed, they did the smart thing and retreated to the panic room, thus locking themselves into an explosive fate.
It was a stupidly elaborate scheme, the kind Sir Reginald would have loved. But it depended on so many variables, and not just from the unsuspecting family. How could the man be sure the cops wouldn’t show up first? How could he know that Diego would be there? How could he be so sure his timing was impeccable? How could he be so damn sure?
“Diego,” Five said.
Startling, Diego looked at Five again, who glared at him in determination.
“Can you do that? Can you disarm the bomb?”
Diego had trained himself on everything. Before quitting, he’d thought about a place on the SWAT team. He’d fancied the notion of being the first knife expert. “How big is it?”
“Enough to take out the whole block in a fiery explosion while everyone sleeps,” Five said. “But the mechanism looks straightforward enough.”
It was almost funny the assumptions they could make about each other in this family. Of course a bomb was straightforward. Of course they could disarm it. Of course.
“You sure it’s that bad?” Diego asked.
“If I thought I could do this alone, I would,” Five said. “But I know when I need backup. So here I am, asking for backup.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Diego said, forcing himself to focus. “Let’s do the job, then.”
“Good,” Five said, and he turned toward the stairs. “Follow me!”
That wasn’t usually Diego’s things, but lives were on the line, so this time, he’d make an exception.
-o-
It was three flights up, and Five was sweating by the time they got there. “This was easier when I jumped,” he muttered, coming to a stop. “The bomb is right there. The family is on the inside. Two adults, three children. Also some yappy little dog.”
Diego came closer to the bomb, giving it a once over while he pretended not to be as winded as he was. “And you can get them out? I thought you had trouble jumping with people?”
“Well, it’s not exactly like any of it is easy,” Five said, his tone sardonic. “But there’s no other way. If you mess up the bomb, they’re dead -- and so is everyone up and down the street. That’s a chance I’d rather not take if we can help it.”
“You can get them far enough to be clear?” Diego asked, choosing not to think about how that resigned him to be the fall guy if things went bad. He looked at the bomb, counting down with three minutes left. It seemed like things could definitely go bad.
“I can get them outside, then I presume they have working legs,” Five said. “I can have them get the neighbors while they flee.”
Diego winced, wracking his brain to remember the rudimentary lessons about circuitry. He really did spend a lot of time playing with knives. It was perhaps time to widen his skill set. Or, you know, work on a team. “You better get on it, then.”
Five, unexpectedly, hesitated. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “There would be nothing wrong with you leading the evacuation down the street.”
“What, and letting this place blow?” Diego asked.
“We could still save lives,” Five reminded him.
“It’s too risky,” Diego said. “Besides, it’d come back to the Academy. This house, these secrets. We can’t risk it.”
“It’s your choice, Diego,” he said, plain and serious. Sincerity, you might call it. In the way that a 13 year old assassin can be sincere. “I want you to know that. I would look down on you for choosing the easy way.”
“This is the job,” Diego said. “I’m doing it.”
“Okay,” Five said, and he grimaced. “Good luck.”
Diego scoffed like he wouldn’t need it as Five blinked his way into the room.
He looked at the bomb again and swallowed back his curse, his confidence going down with it.
If he had to tell the truth, he’d take that luck right now.
With shaking fingers, he got to work.
-o-
Three minutes and six seconds.
That was how much time Diego had to disarm a bomb, save lives and preserve his family’s legacy.
For the first minute, he worked his way through the circuitry. He cut a wire or two, but it didn’t seem to do anything, not with the timer still ticking down and the device still fully armed. Feeling vexed, he went after the interface instead, surprised when it opened up a computer screen and promptly asked for a password.
Frustrated, Diego spent the next minute with the wires again. He had trouble sorting through them, but he was pretty sure he cut one of the motion activation sensors, for whatever that was worth now. He had to hope that Five had the family clear by now.
The timer flashed from one minute to 59 seconds as the time peeled away. Diego’s heart thudded so loudly that it deafened him. His chest was tight.
What was he doing?
What the hell was he doing?
This wasn’t the job. This wasn’t actually the job.
He wasn’t a bomb specialist. He had no way in hell of knowing what he was doing and one wrong move would not only kill him but everyone who had yet to get clear. No, it was clear, he had to stop messing with the wires.
He looked at the interface again.
It wanted a six digit code.
If Five were here, the little brat could probably tell him how many possible number combinations you could make with six digits. He would probably tell him that the probability of cracking that kind of code was astronomical or something. He’d reason that Diego was better off cutting the wires or just running like hell. Either way, there was no way he was going to randomly get lucky and enter the correct six digit code within 50 seconds.
But what if Diego didn’t have to randomly guess?
What if Diego knew?
Because he didn’t know shit about this guy. Not a single usable thing.
But this guy knew everything about him.
In fact, the guy said it more or less. This whole thing? The whole debacle? It was about Diego. Why? Diego didn’t have a clue, but that was the thing. He didn’t have to have a clue about why. He just needed to know six number. Six numbers that defined him.
The clock read 44 seconds.
It couldn’t be that easy?
But who the hell said anything about this was easy?
41 seconds.
The room inside was quiet, at least. No voices. No yappy dog. No flashes of electricity or glimpses of blue light. Maybe that meant that Five was done, that everyone was safe. Maybe that meant that it was just Diego now.
Maybe it meant a lot of things.
Maybe it meant just on thing.
The clock ticked down to 33 seconds, and Diego’s chest felt like it was ready to burst. The six digits mocked him, and he fought against his instincts. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
With his family, anything was more than possible.
Hell, with his family, anything was likely. Expecting the unexpected. Predicting the impossible. Accepting the improbable.
This guy, the one behind the mall, the one in the basement, he didn’t want Diego dead. He didn’t. Which meant, whatever this bomb’s trick is, it was meant to give Diego an out. This bomb was designed for Diego to disarm.
26 seconds.
This guy knew Diego.
He knew what Diego would think.
Which meant this first, irrational impulse was predictable.
22 seconds.
It was probably right.
The clock ticked down more, 21 seconds, 20 seconds, 19.
And Diego took a ragged, desperate breath, mustered his courage and typed in the six numbers that defined him more than anything else.
10-01-89.
It was stupid, yes. It was illogical, obviously.
But at 17 seconds, the clock stopped and the bomb didn’t explode.
Diego’s breath caught painfully for another two seconds before he realized that he’d done it.
The bomb was disarmed.
He’d saved the family; he’d ostensibly saved Five and the whole damn neighborhood. He’d played the part of the hero just as required.
In short, Diego had completed the job.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe.
Business as usual had never felt so unusual after all.
-o-
The walk back down the stairs was longer than Diego remembered it being. From earlier in the evening to his days as a child, he didn’t recall each step looking so imposing as he scaled his way back down, each footfall just as shaky as the last.
The shakiness didn’t exactly make sense. He had gotten the job done, after all. He’d saved people. And yet, he couldn’t shake the terrible reality that the job wasn’t even close to done. Whoever the maniac was in the basement, he had gotten away presumably. Even if this wasn’t personal -- and Diego wasn’t sure how it couldn’t be, at this point -- it was still unfinished business in Diego’s book.
Still struggling to catch his breath as the adrenaline coursed through his body, he made his way out onto the front porch. The street wasn’t as quiet as it was before -- there were lights on up and down the row of dilapidated houses, and front doors had been left open. The recent activity made the quiet in its stead almost eerie, and Diego was so transfixed by the stillness that he nearly tripped over Five.
Five, as it turned out, was sitting on the porch, propped up against the railing. He roused when Diego ran into him, but the suddenness only threatened to topple him more profoundly, and Diego had to sit down hastily next to him, grab him by the shoulder and keep him upright.
“Five,” he said, a note of anger in his voice. It wasn’t concern; he didn’t have time to be concerned. He was pissed off that the plan had played out as badly as it had. “Why the hell are you still here? I thought you were evacuating the neighborhood.”
What Diego didn’t say was that he thought that Five had safely evacuated himself, too. It was a horrible thought. Diego pressing random numbers on a whim with his brother still in the blast radius. Killing himself for his own stupidity was one thing. Killing Five?
Diego was Number Two. That shit didn’t fly.
With some difficult, Five blinked open his eyes. “I did,” he said, but the words were slurred. It was obvious with closer inspection that Five was pale and shaky. “I got the family out and sent them on their way. I told them to get the rest of the neighborhood out and to keep running for five minutes without looking back. I...I think it worked.”
He said that drowsily, looking around as if the see if he had gotten that part right. The movement of his head seemed to be too much, however, and he gave up the effort.
Diego shook him, trying to bring his attention back around. “So you thought you’d just sit here?” he asked pointedly. “If the bomb had gone off….”
Five mustered up enough energy to look perturbed. “Three kids, two adults -- one of whom was massive, mind you -- and two dogs. Do you have any idea the amount of energy it took to make that many consecutive jumps with passengers? I barely made the last one with the dog. At this point, I’m surprised that I’m even conscious right now.”
“But you were supposed to get out of here,” Diego said, stubborn and insistent.
Five huffed, rolling his eyes as he settled his head back against the railing. “What part of exhaustion is truly so hard for you to grasp?”
“Hey,” Diego said, giving Five another shake. “We’re not done here.”
Five dragged his eyes open and looked none too pleased about it. “We need to be done here,” he muttered. “They were running like hell, and I told the family not to mention us, but they will call the cops sooner rather than later. If they find us here, it’ll be one hell of a mess.”
Diego couldn’t deny that, but he still shook his head. “But we need to check the basement, make sure it’s still clear and lock up again. The weapons…”
Five nodded, increasingly drowsy once again. “We need to secure them,” he said, all but murmuring now. “If they’re still there…”
“Five,” Diego said, prodding him once more. “Five!”
Five mumbled something again, but the words were unintelligible this time. It was annoying -- and really, a bit concerning -- but considering the fact that time traveling with his siblings had left Five nearly catatonic for a week straight, a little sleepiness probably wasn’t that big of a deal. It also wasn’t unexpected.
It was, however, inconvenient.
Sighing, Diego looked up and down the street again, roughly trying to gauge how much time he had left before the cops showed up. He was in Beaman’s good graces at the moment, and with their ties to the property, it wasn’t a suspicious connection. That said, it was an unnecessary complication. If Diego wanted to keep his side gig on the side, without his family’s interference, then he had to wrap this up without anything on the books.
Plus, he didn’t know who he was dealing with yet. If this was personal, then Diego didn’t want the cops sniffing around it -- not even Beaman. Hell, Patch had already been killed because of her attachment to Diego. He couldn’t risk it happening to anyone else.
Besides, if the weapons in the sub basement were found, then that would be a problem.
Thus resolved, Diego made sure Five was secure, easing him down to the ground, tucked out of sight in the shadows in case someone happened by. Then, he got up and made his way quickly back inside. This time, though his legs still felt a little rubbery, he moved quickly, retracing the path down to the sub basement at a much faster pace. The lights were still on; the doors were still open. This time, when he reached the lonely stretch of hallway, he skipped the other doors and charged straight to the one on the end.
Inside, his heart sunk and his stomach clenched.
It wasn’t empty, but it was pretty well cleared out. There were a few boxes left -- one or two of ammo and one of hand grenades -- but the rest of the weaponry -- including that damn rocket launcher -- had been stripped clean. It wasn’t possible with just one guy, which meant that Diego’s secret admirer had had helped.
Which meant this wasn’t random at all. This was targeted; this was plotted. The bomb upstairs had been a test for Diego, maybe. But it had also been a distraction. By keeping Diego preoccupied, it had been possible to clear out the cache. To what end? There was no way to know for sure, but if the mall attack was a prelude, then Diego was pretty sure he didn’t want to find out what came next.
Unfortunately, given the intricacy of the plan and Diego’s role in it, he was pretty sure that he would have no choice in the matter.
That was the way it went, after all.
Life was a series of inevitable realities and no matter how hard Diego tried, he could never, ever escape that.
Damn it, though.
He would go down trying.
-o-
There was a lot to think about, but there was no time to think about it now. Five’s assessment that they needed to get the hell out of dodge made sense, and Diego had frittered away more time than he had already.
On his way back up, he made sure to lock the rooms, turn off the lights and obscure the passageways. No doubt, with more time and more thought, he could have done a better job, but he knew the police was overworked these days. The bomb would raise some red flags, but with no evidence of anything stolen, it wouldn’t be a high priority case.
All Diego had to do was make sure that evidence remained inaccessible.
He also had to get out of the area -- and drag his brother’s ass along with him.
Back upstairs, Diego didn’t bother to secure the house. The family would have to report a break in, and Diego couldn’t do anything about any circumstantial evidence he may have left behind. Instead, he focused on getting out the front door, pausing long enough on the stoop to drag Five back into a seated position.
“Come on,” he said, dragging the smaller brother to his feet. “Time to go.”
Five roused, though he swayed drunkenly. He managed to keep his feet beneath him as Diego right him, but there was no evidence he could have remained upright without help. “What?”
Diego didn’t have time to indulge him. He started forward, keeping a firm grip on Five as he stumbled beside him. “Job’s done. We need to get out of here,” he said, and he gave his brother a look. “The cops are coming, remember?”
Blinking a few times, it was hard to tell what Five remembered. They thumped down the steps toward the car. By the time they hit the walk, Five was moving a little bit more of his own volition, at least. “You secured the basement?”
Diego also didn’t have time to look impressed, but it was reassuring to know that Five wasn’t quite as out of it as he looked. “Sure did,” he said. “You sure that family’s not going to say anything?”
“About the weird kid who jumped them through walls?” Five asked. His eyes were staying open now at least, even if he still looked a little glazed over. “Also, I promised them a reduction in rent for six months if they kept their mouth shut. I didn’t clear that with Pogo, but I figured, desperate times.”
This time, Diego did raise his eyebrows. They were nearly at the curb now, and Diego used Five’s increased awareness to move a little faster. The air was still quiet, but Diego can feel the tension building, like oxygen in his lungs ready to burst. “I’m pretty sure we can work something out,” he said, and he led Five to the car, propping him up a little while he opened the front door.
It swung open heavily with a creak. Five didn’t need to be instructed on what to do; he looked almost relieved to sink down into the seat, and Diego slammed the door shut after him before jogging around to the driver’s side. As he opened the door, he heard the first distant siren. By the time he had sat down, he could hear more.
There was still time to get out, but they were cutting it close. He glanced over at Five. “You buckled?” he asked, hastily pulling his own seatbelt before slipping the key into the ignition.
Five looked put out but followed suit. “As long as you don’t make me sit in the backseat like Luther does.”
Diego almost grinned as he put the car into gear. “So you’re saying you like me better than Luther?”
Five grunted, not a denial or an assent. “I’m saying drive, jackass. Before this job ends up as more of a fiasco than it already is.”
It was the truth, and it was still an exaggeration. Diego pulled away from the curb with a lurch, speeding down the street and making a hard, first turn as soon as he could. In the rearview mirror, the house disappeared from view.
That was the thing though, wasn’t it? That you could walk away all you wanted.
That didn’t mean you left anything behind.
Even when you meant to.
Even when you wanted to.
Even when that was the only thing you were trying to do.
Even then.
Diego hit the accelerator a little harder.
Especially then.
-o-
In a perfect world, Diego would have taken a direct route back to the mansion. This would allow him time to rest and recuperate, going over the details of the night’s events in order to make them parse.
No, that wasn’t true.
In a perfect world, he would never have stopped doing the job. He would have been with the Umbrella Academy to stop the mall attack, thereby preventing tonight from ever occurring.
That didn’t happen, though. So, in the far less than perfect world, Diego was stuck taking the long way home in an attempt to avoid the police dragnet. He drove out, sneaking through a few back alleys and side streets before moving along in the wrong direction on the bluffs that rose and fell near the river valley nearby.
Some might call it the scenic route.
Diego just called it an inconvenience.
Though, he had to be honest, maybe it wasn’t an inconvenience. As long as he was driving, then he wasn’t having to face what happened. While he was still in transit, then he didn’t have to think about what had happened -- not while it was still happening. He didn’t have to think about the smile he would plaster on his face for his siblings. He wouldn’t have to think about the half lies he would tell so he didn’t have to tell them the truth.
He looked at Five again. In the five minutes since they had left the scene, his brother had grown increasingly aware. He was sitting up straighter, his gaze clearing. But he was unusually quiet, and Diego could practically feel the questions he wasn’t asking as they passed each block.
Avoidance would work with the others, but Five was in this too deep. Five had seen too much; he wasn’t going to settle for a half version of the truth.
That was a pity, then. Diego wasn’t sure what the truth was right then.
Had the guy known him? Had he really? Had his birthday really been the passcode? Had this been nothing more than a coincidence? Was Diego making shit up to make himself feel important? Was his detachment from the job and his need to do the job making him see things that weren’t there?
Instead of asking those questions, Diego asked a distracting one instead.
With a nod toward Five, Diego prompted benignly, “Feeling better?”
The car skipped over uneven ground as Five stared out the windshield. The car was moving fast, but not too fast. At this point, speeding home would only attract attention. This far from the crime scene, his best bet was to be unobtrusive.
Five sounded more alert, but that only served to amplify the concern in his voice. “This was a bad idea. I was wrong. I should have done more calculations.”
Diego made a face, eyes on the road again. With all the shit that had gone down, that was the last conclusion Diego would come to. It wasn’t that they had done too much; it was that they had done too little. “No, you weren’t wrong,” he said sharply. “I mean, come on. We saved lives tonight. Actual people are alive because we didn’t sit on our asses and do nothing.”
“Did we, though? The bad guys still got away, and we don’t know anything about them,” Five said. He looked at Diego plainly now.
“That’s not true,” Diego insisted, not meeting Five’s gaze in return. His heart skipped a beat, and his palms were sweaty. The truth was almost sitting there, almost on the tip of his tongue. It burned in his chest, but he held his breath in and didn’t dare speak.
“Well, we know nothing that says our interference was a good idea,” Five continued. “You said they knew it?”
“Yeah, I mean, kind of it,” Diego said, hedging now. He wanted to retreat for some reason. He wanted to go back. “It was weird.”
“That’s not a coincidence,” Five said, shaking his head. Tired as he was, he wasn’t quite perceptive enough to realize just how much Diego was keeping from him. “We didn’t save anyone. We merely put them in danger.”
“Those people would have died without us there,” Diego argued. Because that had to be the point. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t that the point? Diego had thought it was; he had needed it to be.
“But they never would have been in danger in the first place without our involvement,” Five posited.
“These people, whoever they are, they’re responsible for the mall attack,” Diego told him.
“Wait, what?” Five asked. His eyes goggled at that as he looked at Diego in shock.
“Yeah, the guy in the basement, the one who knew me, he killed all those people at the mall,” he said.
Five’s mind was visibly working. “But why would something so broad like a domestic terrorist incident be linked to something so targeted like a home invasion?” he asked. He wrinkled his nose, as if the thought involved were almost too much for him at the moment. “That doesn’t make sense, not from a terrorism perspective.”
“Well, maybe they needed a weapons source,” Diego said. “Something without political ties.”
It wasn’t a bad conjecture, but it was idle conjecture. It was conjecture Diego was coming up with because the alternatives were too hard to grapple with right now.
Five wasn’t going to allow him that out, however. “That’s not implausible, but the coincidence is too great,” he said. “If this was an attack of convenience, then where was the actual convenience? Finding that cache would take more time and planning than the full scope of the mall attack.”
Diego felt his stomach tighten. He kept his hands stiff on the wheels. “So maybe they did take more time on that hit,” he said. “Maybe they planned the attack on the house first and did the mall as an aside.”
Five was practically gaping at him now, and Diego knew it was with reason. He knew it because he’d been wrestling with the same thoughts all along. He’d been wrestling, and he wanted -- he needed -- someone else to say it for him.
“But that would mean that they didn’t target the mall and then target us,” Five said. “It means that they targeted the mall as a part of their plan to target us.”
Five let out a breath, and he looked dazed again.
Diego almost didn’t trust himself to speak. He trusted himself less not to. “This guy, the one downstairs. He was weird, man. He wasn’t normal.”
Five’s exhaustion was showing again. Wearily, he shook his head and didn’t ask Diego to explain. “This is a mistake. We should have told the others. We need to tell them as soon as we get home.”
Fingers flexed on the wheel, Diego felt his hackles raise. The curve of the road dipped closer to the river, which rushed not far below beyond the rusted guardrail. “No, absolutely not,” he said, and he hoped that if he sounded resolute that it wouldn’t betray the utter irrationality of his position. Whatever the hell was going on here, Diego was one guy, and his head was spinning. He lacked perspective. He needed clarity.
But this whole thing was irrational. All of it. The fact that they were as powerful as they were and none of them felt compelled to be here, except for Five, who was just bored. That was irrational, more than the rest. They made their choice; Diego respecting it.
The fact that he didn’t want to tell them was notwithstanding. And really, what was he going to say? Was he going to tell him that this asshole knew Diego by name? Was he going to explain how he guessed the six digit code? This was about Diego, see. This was about Diego.
This wasn’t about family.
“Diego--”
Five was speaking, had been speaking. Diego pulled himself from the reverie, eyes fixed on the road. The river was high with recent rains; it looked dark and cold.
“Diego,” Five said again, and the pale hue of his skin only accentuate how emphatic he looked. “We need to tell them everything.”
Diego’s lip curled. “They didn’t want the job, and this is the job,” he said. “My job.”
“So, what? I’m not even counting now?”
Diego gave him a critical look. “You came along because you were bored. That’s hardly a commitment.”
Five looked perturbed, in a way that a typical 13 year old shouldn’t be able. “You can’t let your silly pride get in the way of what’s smart,” he said. “I know you’re young, so you think you’re invincible, but having people to back you up is everything. Don’t be so foolish as to ignore that.”
“I tried, remember?” Diego asked, voice cutting sharply now. “They all needed time.”
“And you’re not willing to give them that?” Five demanded. “All the sacrifices we’ve made for each other, and you’re willing to throw it away for time.”
The words were dripping with sarcasm. Diego rolled his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk,” he said. “You walked out of the house to do your own thing before any of us. You left.”
It was a little bit of a low blow -- a lot of a low blow. He had never believed in fighting fair, after all. He would take his punches wherever he could get them, and a winning blow was a winning blow, no matter how it was delivered.
To his dismay, Five merely narrowed his eyes, as if assessing Diego. “So that’s your answer then? You’re really going to leave?”
Diego had always thought if he could dish it out, he ought to be able to take it, but Five’s comment still hits him like a punch to the gut. He startled, thankful that he was driving on a straight section of the road as it loped down by the banks. “What?” he asked, voice almost cracking. He laughed, but it was a small, desperate sound. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you’re going to,” Five said, and he appeared to be concentrating rather hard to make the observation. Maybe that was his exhaustion; maybe Five was still that bad with people. “It’s written all over your face.”
Diego looked ahead again, trying to look pissed off more than anything. That didn’t matter; none of this mattered. That wasn’t the point of this anyway. Five was the one who was taking them off topic now. “It wouldn’t matter if I did,” he said shortly. “That’s what people do, you know? It’s called living your life.”
It was what people did to be happy.
It was what people did to protect themselves.
It was just what people did.
This only seemed to be more illogical to Five than anything else. “But people are stupid by and large. You don’t throw away what matters most.”
Diego was insulted, and he didn’t think his response was unduly petulant. Five was a prick. “And who the hell are you to decide that for me?”
Five was the one who looked 13, but Diego was pretty sure he was the one who sounded it now. Family did that to him, more than anything else. Family brought out this side of him, this side that he hated. This part where he was never good enough, where he never quite fit in. It was stupid to pretend like it was all about the job.
Five, for all that he could be a smartass, looked surprisingly sympathetic. “I just know what I threw away when I left,” he said. “And I know what I had to sacrifice to get it back. It’s not a mistake I intend on making again. I think you’d be happier if you didn’t either.”
Diego made a face, casting a glare at his brother. “I’m not you,” he said. “And you’re full of shit anyway.”
“I know what I’m talking about.”
“Whatever, okay?” Diego said, turning toward one of the bridges to take them back toward the mansion. “Let’s just go home.”
“And what?” Five asked. “Pretend like nothing happened?”
At a traffic light before the bridge, Diego shook his head. “You can’t tell them.”
“Of course I can’t,” Five said. “You haven’t even told me the full story yet.”
Diego pressed his lips together. It would be silly to hope that Five was too tired to remember this conversation. The prick was fully coherent now, and he looked like shit, but he was talking with his full faculties. “There’s nothing to tell.”
It was a stupid, obvious kind of lie.
Those were Diego’s specialty.
Five snorted in the seat next to him, face composed warily as the light turned green and Diego started across the bridge.
“Family is hard, I know that. Sometimes it feels impossible,” Five told him, as Diego pointedly didn’t look at him. “But you can’t leave it behind, Diego. Not even if you want to.”
He turned toward Five, a retort on his lips, but they were cut short when Five’s face contorted.
“Look out!”
Diego turned forward just in time to see the headlights coming at him. The car veered heavily into his lane, and Diego had minimal time to react. He jerked the wheel, slamming on the brakes. Tires squealed on the pavement, and Diego had a half second to think that maybe he’d averted disaster this time.
But then the other car rammed into him, plowing them sideways, and Diego didn’t have time to yell a warning before the car was sent spinning through the barrier, careening recklessly to the dark water below.
Right, wrong, or anything in between.
This was really going to suck.