Umbrella Academy fic: Changing All the Scenery (3/20)
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
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
THREE
Five has things to do, and he really doesn’t have time to mess around. The problem is that he doesn’t know how to do anything he needs to do. He’s chased the lead about the eye to a dead end, and his siblings are barely functional. They’re all so tied up in their own messes that they’re not going to be any help to him, and he can’t very well rally them to a cause when the only plan he has to go with is stop the end of the world.
It’s vaguely ironic to him, actually, though it’s hard to appreciate the irony, considering the circumstances. All this energy he’s devoted to getting back and he’s failed to consider what the hell he’s supposed to do when he gets here. Sure, saving his family and stopping the apocalypse sound good, but in practical application, he’s coming up short.
Like, very short.
It’s a bit frustrating, actually. With the Commission, jobs had always been simple and to the point. All he had to do was follow instructions to move on to the next thing. Even in the apocalypse, things had been relatively straightforward. The practical reality of not dying had been a pressing and ever present reality. It had manifested in simple measures on a day to day basis.
Now, none of these things were ever fun, but they had been pragmatic, and Five has never been one to want unnecessary distractions. It’s a little terrifying that for the first time in his life, he’s in control of his own destiny and he has no idea what to do.
It’s also disconcerting that the world is going to end and it’s up to him to stop it -- and he doesn’t have a damn clue.
He hates to think that he probably should have slowed down. Taken more time in the apocalypse. Spent more years on the job with the Commission. Maybe then he’d be ready. Maybe then he’d know what to do.
It’s tempting, of course, to go back and just try it again. But the calculations to make another jump would take him too long to do it right, and though he goes over them in the back of his mind, he’s honestly just too scared to try. That’s the bottom line, really. He could jump to the past, haphazard and rushed and it’d probably buy him some time. But he’s already messed this up so badly, being in his 13 year old body. It’s a bit petty, a bit selfish, but he’s worried that if he jumps to the past again without a little more foresight, he’ll mess something up even worse than it already is.
Still, none of this gets to the fact that he needs a plan.
The year is 2019, he reminds himself. The world ends in less than a week.
Damn it, Five needs a plan or it very well may kill him.
Him and the rest of the world.
-o-
It is tempting to get drunk again, but that didn’t exactly get him anywhere before. He thinks about doing some equations, but he needs something to go on. Hazel and Cha Cha are both a concern and a lead, and he weighs the possibility that he either needs to eliminate them to ensure that things can progress forward. There’s also the chance that he needs to leverage them for more information. After all, Five is coming up blank on this whole stopping the apocalypse thing. As links to the Commission, it’s possible that Hazel and Cha Cha could prove a useful source of information.
Or, at the very least, a means to an end.
The problem is, naturally, that Hazel and Cha Cha have orders to kill him. This is inconvenient to say the least, and Five does not want to waste his week trying to stay alive when he should be using it trying to, well, stay alive.
It’s a bit vexing, if he’s honest, and he meanders through the house contemplating the fastest way to consume coffee now when he hears sounds coming from Klaus’ bedroom.
Normally, Five might not pursue this. What Klaus -- or any of his siblings for that matter -- does in his bedroom is nothing he probably needs or wants to know. But Five could use some company; a sounding board, if you will. He’s not sure that Klaus is the best choice, but he’s not sure any of his siblings are actually the best choices, and he’s learned not to be picky about some things.
But as he stands outside Klaus’ doorway, he sees the bloody footprints coming from the bathroom.
He cocks his head, considering.
Klaus’ door is cracked and he looks inside.
He asks, quietly, if Klaus is okay.
He listens, expectantly, as Klaus lies to him.
From there, it doesn’t take much to put together the rest. Klaus shows all the signs, and it might be easy for anyone else to confuse them with being strung out from drugs or alcohol, but Five knows better. He knows what it’s like to be turned inside out. He knows what it’s like to be taken apart and put back together. He knows what it’s like when the pieces don’t fit, when they’re smashed together or stretched too thin. He knows what it’s like when there are some parts that are just missing, lost in the vast stretches of time, never to be seen again.
Five knows what it’s like not to be okay.
And he knows why you say you’re okay anyway.
Yeah, Five definitely knows.
-o-
On some level, Five knows that Klaus needs sympathy, support and comfort. He needs someone to tell him that it’s okay, that things will get better, that whatever happened is something he can eventually move beyond. He should tell Klaus that he knows what it’s like to have time rip away part of you -- possibly the most important part -- and the way it feels to keep living without it anyway.
That’s what a good brother would probably do, and the thought does cross Five’s mind. He’s not a monster, after all.
He is, however, a pragmatist.
There’s no time to deal with Klaus feelings.
They can talk about feelings in a week, when the world isn’t over.
Or they can not talk about it in a week, because the world is over.
Hence the reason why Five can’t talk about it now.
So Five lets Klaus go, grabs a piece of paper and a pencil and gets to work.
-o-
See, now there are variables. Variables that can be identified. Once a variable can be identified, you can control it. Well, maybe not control it, but you can start to predict it. With one variable known, you can start projecting other variables. This is the way you build a mathematically sound plan to save the world.
And it all has to do with the briefcase.
Klaus stole a briefcase.
It’s an action Klaus regrets, no doubt, considering his reaction to it, but that’s not nearly as important as the fact that Hazel and Cha Cha will regret it more. In fact, they won’t merely regret it. They’re completely screwed without.
Five remembers this. Five remembers the importance of a briefcase. When you’re traveling through time, when you can’t remember the year, that briefcase is your only link toward anything -- including your sanity. Without the briefcase, the Commission will forget you.
Worse, you’ll forget yourself.
That means that Hazel and Cha Cha are going to be desperate. Desperation makes you do funny things, and you only have to ask Delores for confirmation. Desperation is also powerfully motivating, and it is the only margin of control he might have over his attackers.
What Five needs, then, is perspective. He’s been driven by desperation this whole time, and it has made his approach sloppy and haphazard. Ultimately, it’s made him wholly ineffective, and the cost won’t just be his life or even his family. It’s going to be the whole damn world.
So Five needs to stop thinking in desperation. He needs to be calm and logical.
He needs to think like the Commission, is what he really needs.
He pauses, thinking about that. He’s been trying so hard to distance himself from the Commission that he’s essentially thrown the baby out with the bathwater. He disagrees quite fundamentally with the aims of the Commission, but he can’t necessarily fault their methods. Something can be smart and effective without being good. This is a distinction that would serve him well right now.
Moreover, he has to remember that the Commission is at play here. This is not merely Five going up against the forces of free will. No, this is a matter of the Commission’s interference playing against his own. They are, in essence, two basketball players at center court. The ball is being dropped and they’re both vying for possession. In this case, the ball is the universe and one of them ones to shoot a hail Mary from half court and the other wants to stall until the buzzer runs out.
Therefore, Five needs to put this situation in perspective. What would Hazel and Cha Cha do? What orders would be sent to them in the first place?
This is a job, then.
A job is simple tasks based on probable outcomes.
Probable outcomes can be weighed and sorted, thus allowing the best possible conclusion to be chosen and enacted. It’s nothing more than a series of simple choices that have a dramatic impact on the bigger picture. Five had wanted a short-cut, using the eye to give him a starting point. But does he need it? Does he really need it?
After all, Hazel and Cha Cha likely have simple orders to kill him. Kidnapping Klaus, killing Diego’s friend, attacking the mansion -- those actions are means to the end, nothing more. Their entire task -- the Commission’s entire premise -- is to eliminate a single variable in order to control the outcome. Five knows it works.
So why doesn’t he do that now?
Sure, the eye could have made things easier, but Five doesn’t need easy any more than he needs happy.
Turning the page, he mutters a few equations to himself, Klaus and his problems long forgotten. He quickly runs out of space on that sheet -- and the next.
Frowning, he throws the paper away and looks for something more substantial. Huffing, he gets to his feet and hurries back to his room, taking the stairs two at a time. He rummages in one of his old drawers until he finds what he’s looking for.
He grins at the piece of chalk.
Then he turns his eyes up to the untouched walls with something that can only be compared to hope.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
THREE
Five has things to do, and he really doesn’t have time to mess around. The problem is that he doesn’t know how to do anything he needs to do. He’s chased the lead about the eye to a dead end, and his siblings are barely functional. They’re all so tied up in their own messes that they’re not going to be any help to him, and he can’t very well rally them to a cause when the only plan he has to go with is stop the end of the world.
It’s vaguely ironic to him, actually, though it’s hard to appreciate the irony, considering the circumstances. All this energy he’s devoted to getting back and he’s failed to consider what the hell he’s supposed to do when he gets here. Sure, saving his family and stopping the apocalypse sound good, but in practical application, he’s coming up short.
Like, very short.
It’s a bit frustrating, actually. With the Commission, jobs had always been simple and to the point. All he had to do was follow instructions to move on to the next thing. Even in the apocalypse, things had been relatively straightforward. The practical reality of not dying had been a pressing and ever present reality. It had manifested in simple measures on a day to day basis.
Now, none of these things were ever fun, but they had been pragmatic, and Five has never been one to want unnecessary distractions. It’s a little terrifying that for the first time in his life, he’s in control of his own destiny and he has no idea what to do.
It’s also disconcerting that the world is going to end and it’s up to him to stop it -- and he doesn’t have a damn clue.
He hates to think that he probably should have slowed down. Taken more time in the apocalypse. Spent more years on the job with the Commission. Maybe then he’d be ready. Maybe then he’d know what to do.
It’s tempting, of course, to go back and just try it again. But the calculations to make another jump would take him too long to do it right, and though he goes over them in the back of his mind, he’s honestly just too scared to try. That’s the bottom line, really. He could jump to the past, haphazard and rushed and it’d probably buy him some time. But he’s already messed this up so badly, being in his 13 year old body. It’s a bit petty, a bit selfish, but he’s worried that if he jumps to the past again without a little more foresight, he’ll mess something up even worse than it already is.
Still, none of this gets to the fact that he needs a plan.
The year is 2019, he reminds himself. The world ends in less than a week.
Damn it, Five needs a plan or it very well may kill him.
Him and the rest of the world.
-o-
It is tempting to get drunk again, but that didn’t exactly get him anywhere before. He thinks about doing some equations, but he needs something to go on. Hazel and Cha Cha are both a concern and a lead, and he weighs the possibility that he either needs to eliminate them to ensure that things can progress forward. There’s also the chance that he needs to leverage them for more information. After all, Five is coming up blank on this whole stopping the apocalypse thing. As links to the Commission, it’s possible that Hazel and Cha Cha could prove a useful source of information.
Or, at the very least, a means to an end.
The problem is, naturally, that Hazel and Cha Cha have orders to kill him. This is inconvenient to say the least, and Five does not want to waste his week trying to stay alive when he should be using it trying to, well, stay alive.
It’s a bit vexing, if he’s honest, and he meanders through the house contemplating the fastest way to consume coffee now when he hears sounds coming from Klaus’ bedroom.
Normally, Five might not pursue this. What Klaus -- or any of his siblings for that matter -- does in his bedroom is nothing he probably needs or wants to know. But Five could use some company; a sounding board, if you will. He’s not sure that Klaus is the best choice, but he’s not sure any of his siblings are actually the best choices, and he’s learned not to be picky about some things.
But as he stands outside Klaus’ doorway, he sees the bloody footprints coming from the bathroom.
He cocks his head, considering.
Klaus’ door is cracked and he looks inside.
He asks, quietly, if Klaus is okay.
He listens, expectantly, as Klaus lies to him.
From there, it doesn’t take much to put together the rest. Klaus shows all the signs, and it might be easy for anyone else to confuse them with being strung out from drugs or alcohol, but Five knows better. He knows what it’s like to be turned inside out. He knows what it’s like to be taken apart and put back together. He knows what it’s like when the pieces don’t fit, when they’re smashed together or stretched too thin. He knows what it’s like when there are some parts that are just missing, lost in the vast stretches of time, never to be seen again.
Five knows what it’s like not to be okay.
And he knows why you say you’re okay anyway.
Yeah, Five definitely knows.
-o-
On some level, Five knows that Klaus needs sympathy, support and comfort. He needs someone to tell him that it’s okay, that things will get better, that whatever happened is something he can eventually move beyond. He should tell Klaus that he knows what it’s like to have time rip away part of you -- possibly the most important part -- and the way it feels to keep living without it anyway.
That’s what a good brother would probably do, and the thought does cross Five’s mind. He’s not a monster, after all.
He is, however, a pragmatist.
There’s no time to deal with Klaus feelings.
They can talk about feelings in a week, when the world isn’t over.
Or they can not talk about it in a week, because the world is over.
Hence the reason why Five can’t talk about it now.
So Five lets Klaus go, grabs a piece of paper and a pencil and gets to work.
-o-
See, now there are variables. Variables that can be identified. Once a variable can be identified, you can control it. Well, maybe not control it, but you can start to predict it. With one variable known, you can start projecting other variables. This is the way you build a mathematically sound plan to save the world.
And it all has to do with the briefcase.
Klaus stole a briefcase.
It’s an action Klaus regrets, no doubt, considering his reaction to it, but that’s not nearly as important as the fact that Hazel and Cha Cha will regret it more. In fact, they won’t merely regret it. They’re completely screwed without.
Five remembers this. Five remembers the importance of a briefcase. When you’re traveling through time, when you can’t remember the year, that briefcase is your only link toward anything -- including your sanity. Without the briefcase, the Commission will forget you.
Worse, you’ll forget yourself.
That means that Hazel and Cha Cha are going to be desperate. Desperation makes you do funny things, and you only have to ask Delores for confirmation. Desperation is also powerfully motivating, and it is the only margin of control he might have over his attackers.
What Five needs, then, is perspective. He’s been driven by desperation this whole time, and it has made his approach sloppy and haphazard. Ultimately, it’s made him wholly ineffective, and the cost won’t just be his life or even his family. It’s going to be the whole damn world.
So Five needs to stop thinking in desperation. He needs to be calm and logical.
He needs to think like the Commission, is what he really needs.
He pauses, thinking about that. He’s been trying so hard to distance himself from the Commission that he’s essentially thrown the baby out with the bathwater. He disagrees quite fundamentally with the aims of the Commission, but he can’t necessarily fault their methods. Something can be smart and effective without being good. This is a distinction that would serve him well right now.
Moreover, he has to remember that the Commission is at play here. This is not merely Five going up against the forces of free will. No, this is a matter of the Commission’s interference playing against his own. They are, in essence, two basketball players at center court. The ball is being dropped and they’re both vying for possession. In this case, the ball is the universe and one of them ones to shoot a hail Mary from half court and the other wants to stall until the buzzer runs out.
Therefore, Five needs to put this situation in perspective. What would Hazel and Cha Cha do? What orders would be sent to them in the first place?
This is a job, then.
A job is simple tasks based on probable outcomes.
Probable outcomes can be weighed and sorted, thus allowing the best possible conclusion to be chosen and enacted. It’s nothing more than a series of simple choices that have a dramatic impact on the bigger picture. Five had wanted a short-cut, using the eye to give him a starting point. But does he need it? Does he really need it?
After all, Hazel and Cha Cha likely have simple orders to kill him. Kidnapping Klaus, killing Diego’s friend, attacking the mansion -- those actions are means to the end, nothing more. Their entire task -- the Commission’s entire premise -- is to eliminate a single variable in order to control the outcome. Five knows it works.
So why doesn’t he do that now?
Sure, the eye could have made things easier, but Five doesn’t need easy any more than he needs happy.
Turning the page, he mutters a few equations to himself, Klaus and his problems long forgotten. He quickly runs out of space on that sheet -- and the next.
Frowning, he throws the paper away and looks for something more substantial. Huffing, he gets to his feet and hurries back to his room, taking the stairs two at a time. He rummages in one of his old drawers until he finds what he’s looking for.
He grins at the piece of chalk.
Then he turns his eyes up to the untouched walls with something that can only be compared to hope.