Umbrella Academy fic: The Start of the Story (9/16)
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
-o-
Five’s getting ahead of himself, just like always. He’s too smart to be this stupid, but that’s how it is.
Maybe this is where the story begins.
Five can’t tell yet.
Five can’t.
-o-
He comes to when Luther is standing on his toes, using one of Diego’s knives to cut him down. His awareness hasn’t solidified yet, and when the rope is sliced clean, he’s falling with no way to stop himself. The rush of air around him is short lived, and Diego catches him easily while Allison guides them to the floor.
Klaus and Vanya hover over him as they lay him out. When Allison starts to look at his leg, he grunts and tries to pull away.
It doesn’t do any good.
“We need to see,” Luther tells him, his large shadow looming over them now. “We need to check out how bad it is.”
Five would laugh if he had the energy. This whole thing is not simply bad. It’s a disaster of unmitigated proportions.
Allison prods at his leg again, and Five flinches. The pain is acute enough to break him from his thoughts and he lifts his head, scowling down the length of his too-small body. “It didn’t hit anything vital,” he reports, wincing as Allison lifts the hem of his shorts.
“You don’t know that,” Diego says from beside her.
“Yeah, I do,” Five says. He breathes through the pain to reply as plaintively as he can. “If it had hit something vital, I would be dead by now.”
This does not seem to be as reassuring as he thinks it should be. Logic means so little to his siblings; it’s appalling.
“Well, just humor us, then,” Klaus says. “Because it looks gnarly.”
Five allows that, and decides it’s an irrelevant point to debate. They’ll come to their own conclusions soon enough, and Five has other things to assessed. Namely, his siblings. For all that they were fretting over him, he sees reason to fret over them. Luther’s shirt is still missing from earlier, and the worst of his wounds are still leaking blood. The scars on Diego’s arms are red and raw, and Allison moves tenderly as she bends over Five’s leg. This is not because she’s being careful for Five’s sake; this has everything to do with her broken ribs. Klaus has endured it best with his wet hair drying into curls on the top of his head. And Vanya just looks scared.
He settles his eyes on Vanya.
Vanya.
Allison picks that precise moment to apply pressure to his leg. Five isn’t expecting it, and the sudden surge of pain almost makes him choke. “What the -- hell?” he asks through jagged breaths. He looks down again, seeing that someone’s shirt has been tied around the wounded appendage. He hates the fact that his leg is so skinny that it fits easily. “Are you done yet?”
Allison holds up her hands defensively.
“Of course we’re not done,” Diego says. “You took a bullet to the leg.”
“And you have second degree burns on your arm,” Five says with a scowl. “How does that bleach feel?”
Diego’s impulse toward violence is predictable.
As is Luther’s intervention. “We’re all going to need to get looked over,” he says. “Mom and Pogo will have questions, but we can’t do this ourselves.”
That’s ironic, considering that their entire approach has been to do this themselves. Five exhales in frustration, managing to prop himself up on his elbows. “You are all acting like it matters,” he says. “The Commission could come back at any moment.”
His siblings exchange odd looks. Klaus looks at Five a little sympathetically. “You sure about that, little brother?”
Five hates the nickname immediately, but before he can inform Klaus that repeating such a term of endearment will result in serious injury, he realizes what his siblings are looking at. Not just each other. The warehouse.
More accurately, the bodies in the warehouse.
Shit, they’re everywhere.
All the agents, every last one of them, from the original team to the reinforcements, are all dead. The store clerk, who had been standing no more than a foot away from Five, is sprawled out with his neck broken halfway across the dimly lit area.
He looks back at his siblings, who suddenly have no idea what to say. He locks eyes with Vanya. “Did you do this?”
She looks nervous, a little guilty. “I woke up and saw him coming at you,” she admits. “The others, they were yelling, and the sound of their voices, their panic -- I’ve never felt it that powerful before.”
“She’s learning to control it, too,” Luther says, and it’s hard to say, but it sounds like a note of pride. “Everyone around us was killed, but not a scratch on us.”
“She’s turning into our secret weapon,” Diego agrees.
“Yeah, at least we know when Vanya’s around, it doesn’t matter how badly we screw up,” Klaus says, and he’s joking but he’s not. No one is laughing.
Five struggles, mindful of his bound leg, as he sits up. “They can still come back,” he says, a little stubborn. “They will.”
“It’ll take time,” Allison says. “We need to get back to the Academy.”
“It doesn’t have to take time,” Five says. “They can pull in and out as fast or often as they see fit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have fresh agents for recon on the ground right now.”
“Well, more reason to book it, then,” Diego says.
“We’re vulnerable here,” Luther agrees.
They’re vulnerable everywhere, but there’s no point in saying it.
Que sera, sera.
Five knows there are some things he can change.
He’s just not sure his family’s short sighted viewpoint is one of them.
-o-
They are a sad sight walking home. They’re limping and hunched over, they’re breathless and stiff. The half mile they had walked so effortlessly before seems to take an eternity now. Five tries not to think of it as wasted time -- time wherein the Commission is regrouping and preparing their next plan -- but who is he kidding?
That’s exactly what it is.
They’re slumping off into the night, licking their wounds. They’re finding solidarity, taking comfort in one another. They’re taking stock, as if they can come up with some fortitude that will help them fare better the next time around.
In that light, it’s a little pathetic, honestly. Step by step, each one agonizing and each one pointless.
Five can’t bring himself to say it yet.
Some might call it weakness.
Limping, bloodied and sore, Five knows they would be right.
-o-
When they do get back, it’s nearly morning. Pogo is waiting for them, like he’s been expecting this to happen, and Grace is summoned within moments. Basic triage being what it is, Five is forced to lay down first, and he doesn’t object when their mother hooks up the IV with a smile.
“You’ll start to feel better soon,” she assures him. The needle slides into the crook of his arm and he grimaces. “I’m giving you fluids to replace the blood you’ve lost, and there’s a little something in there to help with the pain, to let you sleep.”
He can feel it, the coolness of the drip as it hits his veins. “They could come back,” he murmurs, flicking his eyes to his siblings. They’re gathered around, staying out of Mom’s way, but they’re sticking close. “They will come back.”
“We’ll be ready for it,” Luther promises.
“All defenses up,” Diego says.
Allison smiles gently. “You don’t need to worry about it for now.”
“Yeah, you know,” Klaus adds. “Just leave this one to us. We totally got this.”
It’s Vanya who takes his hand and squeezes. “It’s going to be okay, Five,” she says. “It’s going to be okay.”
This is a lie.
Five knows it is.
When he wakes up, he’ll have to call them on it. When he wakes up, he’ll have to confront the truth. When he wakes up, there’ll be no avoiding it.
Vanya looks fuzzy now, even as she smiles. The others are starting to blur together.
“I’m going to have to clean his wound first,” his mother says. “It won’t be easy to watch.”
Five blinks, slowly, slower.
When he wakes up.
When he….
When.
-o-
When is an annoying qualification, as far as Five’s concerned. It’s actually quite meaningless, all these times and dates. In the apocalypse, all the days had blurred together. If not for the tally he keeps, he’d have no sense of it at all. Time travel is even worse, quite honestly. The Handler had asked for Five years, but there’s no way to chart the days when you slide in and out of them.
From day to day, week to week, century to century.
He’d stopped asking when in his briefings. Just who and what.
Being linear is harder than he remember, and as young as he looks, Five’s never felt older.
He doesn’t tell his siblings; he doesn’t tell anyone.
Every time he closes his eyes, he’s worried he’ll wake up in the future, in a wasteland. He’s worried that when he wakes up, he’ll find out all of this is just a dream. It wouldn’t surprise him, honestly, even if the prospect balls up like terror lodged in his throat, hard enough to choke on.
Hope is the anchor that moors you in the storm.
And when the storm overpowers you, hope is the thing that drowns you just below the surface.
When
-o-
And then Five wakes up.
He discerns quickly that he’s back at the Academy and that his leg is bandaged and his vitals must have been restored to normal levels. He’s sore and weak and otherwise fine. He’s still in the infirmary, which has been updated and expanded as part of Luther’s efforts to revitalize the Academy. While everything is neat and tidy -- a sure sign that Grace and Pogo have been here recently -- there’s no sign of them now.
Instead, in five identical beds, his siblings are all resting as well. There’s a sixth one, presumably for Ben, whenever Klaus and the others wake up.
For a moment, Five watches them. He considers sneaking out, right here and right now, and finishing what he’s started. If he goes now, he might be able to make the deal with the Commission. He knows the Commission will still take the deal; it’s a deal they’ll always take.
It’s just a deal his siblings won’t let him make.
It’s vexing to him. How he can be a world class assassin and he can’t even outsmart his own emotionally crippled siblings.
Therefore, even as he speculates a solo plan, he knows he can’t do it. He won’t do it. He won’t make them chase him again.
So what’s he going to do?
He sighs, laying back, and looks at the ceiling.
That’s the question, then.
Turning his head, Five sees a pen nearby. He reaches for it, grabbing the first thing he can that will take the ink. Ben will be pissed at him for using his book, but Five doesn’t. He opens to the first page and starts his equation.
He knows the odds aren’t good.
That’s never stopped him before.
-o-
By the time the others wake up, Five has scrawled through the entire book. He’s started making cross reference notes on gauze pads, sitting up on his bed with his leg as still as possible. It’s starting to ache -- the drugs are wearing off -- but he’s steadfastly ignoring it as his latest equations continue to confirm Five’s initial speculation.
The plan had always been the only one that would work.
But that didn’t mean that the variables couldn’t be changed for their benefit.
The trick is convincing his family of this.
He waits until they’re all awake, sitting up, looking disheveled before he starts in. “Well, that was an absolute failure,” he says, taking some pleasure as their faces fall. They all know that he’s telling the truth, but they’ve been consoling themselves in the fact that they all made it out alive. There are kinder ways to do this, but this is going to be the most effective. Five doesn’t have a calculation to prove that. He doesn’t need one, not when it comes to his family. “In fact, I don’t think it could have gone poorer.”
Luther looks like Five may have hit him. The stitches on his abdomen are still visible, as if bandaging the hairy exterior was too much work. “It didn’t go that bad.”
Diego, whose burns have been covered, has already found one of his knives to fiddle with. “You’re the one who went off book, smart ass,” he says. “What were you thinking? Offering the deal?”
The looks on their faces show that they share Diego’s opinion.
Five rolls his eyes. “I was trying to save your lives, as you recall,” he says. “Not that you appear very grateful for it.”
“We already told you,” Allison says. “We don’t want that. None of us are expendable.”
“I know,” Five says. “That’s what I’ve been tell you all along. But none of you seem to get it.”
“To be fair, how can we get it?” Klaus asks. He shrugs, gesturing to the others. “Come on, like any of you understand when he starts talking about equations and probabilities.”
Ben has manifested again. He gives Klaus a withering look. “I don’t think this is about equations.”
Klaus points at Five, indignant. “He’s writing them everywhere! How is this not about equations?”
“It’s about the odds,” Five clarifies for him, both validating Klaus and reminding him that he’s an idiot. “The odds of us all dying because we’re unable to think about sacrificing one.”
“But we got out,” Vanya says, like that’s the only thing that matters. And maybe it is, this time. Next time, Five has his doubts. “We have to focus on that.”
“No,” Five says, voice starting to rise. “That’s what we need to not focus on. We barely got out of there alive. Barely. And at what cost? The Commission has more intelligence on us now. When they come back for us again -- and they will come back for us -- they’re going to know even better how to neutralize us.”
“And so we neutralize them,” Luther declares. “Again.”
It’s feel-good belief. It’s strength of character.
It’s also ridiculous. “The risk is nonsensical,” Five says. “This all-for-one crap doesn’t make sense on a purely mathematical level.”
“Oi, with the numbers!” Klaus says.
Diego tips his head in implicit agreement. “Your math is shit, Five.”
“No, my math is right,” Five reminds them. “It has been since the beginning. Everything I’ve told you has come true.”
“But we’re family,” Luther says before anyone else can come up with a pithy reply. He shakes his head. “That’s always got to be at the heart of every choice we make, no matter the odds.”
“You think I don’t get that?” Five says. “Why do you think I keep making that offer?”
“Wait,” Klaus says, holding up a finger. “Is this where you try to justify your self destructive behavior for the greater good? Because I can think of better self destructive habits, let me tell you--”
Five shakes his head with a glare. “Because that offer is the only plan that preserves the family,” he says. He waves his new book of calculations at them to prove his point. “The odds are that we all die if we do nothing. I’ve already seen you all die; I don’t want to do it again. If my freedom can guarantee yours, then that’s not just good odds. That’s what families do for each other.”
It’s a bit more than they’re expecting, and their silence is telling. They still think Five’s an asshole, probably because he is, but still.
Luther finally exhales, speaking for them all. “And we’re saying, throw out the odds,” he says. “Let’s just face what comes as best we can. Together.”
“That’s foolish,” Five says. “I can’t let you walk in blindly, not when you’ll all probably die. I can’t have you all dying on my account.”
“And we’re supposed to let you die on ours?” Allison asks. “I know you’re selfish, Five, but come on.”
“No, you come on,” Five says. “We can’t keep fighting the Commission. They have infinite resources, I’ve told you this. We don’t.”
“But we won twice,” Diego says with some emphasis now. Clearly, he thinks this matters. “I mean, look at the facts. They dispute your odds. With Vanya, we’re basically invincible.”
Vanya looks moderately uncomfortable with the attention.
Five is downright repulsed. “You don’t understand,” he says. “Our odds grow less and less every time we face them. They get to hit the reset button after every fight. We don’t. While we’re here trying to recover, the Commission is already out there, planning their next attack.”
“So we keep doing it then,” Luther says with all the elegance of a blunt force object.
“Forever?” Five asks. He raises his eyebrows. “Because that’s what they can do. That’s what they will do.”
Luther seems to take his words as a challenge, and he squares his shoulders and raises his chin. He cuts an impressive figure without the layers of clothing he uses to hide behind. “If we have to, yes.”
Five is not one to be intimidated, however. “Then it’s only a matter of time before one of us is taken out,” he says. “And when that happens, the rest of us will fall back, and they’ll pick us off, one by one. You keep telling me that no one here is expendable, but all of the Commission’s agents are. If you don’t care about the odds, fine. But you should care about that.”
His point is valid.
More than valid, it’s good.
They know it’s good, and his siblings are quiet for a moment. It’s Ben, hovering on the spare bed they leave open for him, who finally speaks. “So what then?”
And that’s the point that Five’s been going for. That’s why he chose this tact. He needed them to ask for it. That’s the only way he can get them to listen to the plan without rejecting it outright.
“Well, it’s not easy,” Five admits, but he picks up his book of notes again. He shakes it in the air. “But I have one plan left. One plan that tips all the odds in our favor. One plan that lets us win, all of us.”
He’s worked hard to build to this point, and he’s pleased to see that it’s not all been in vain. His siblings are taking him seriously, and it’s still a bit remarkable to him how gratifying it is to have someone actually believe in you. Delores had always done what she could, bless her, but stuck together alone at the end of the world doesn’t give you a lot of options. She had to believe in him or they’d both stop existing.
His family has the choice.
Despite Five’s ups and downs during this whole ordeal, they’re choosing him this time.
“What is it?” Luther asks on behalf of them all.
Five feels more resolute than he has in months. Years, maybe. Shit, maybe decades. He tries to remember the indignation that had led him out the front door the first time he was 13, and it’s nothing compared to the way he feels right here, right now.
He doesn’t want to let them down.
That’s a thing, right? Wanting to be there for people? That’s family.
“Well, it starts off pretty simple,” Five says. “I turn myself over to the Commission.”
The trust in their expressions falls immediately, and their protests are loud, overstated and many.
“What?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Wow, I thought I could only feel like this when I was high--”
“No, absolutely not.”
“But I thought we talked about this!”
Five holds up his hands, drawing them to silence. Clearly, he’s jumped the gun, so to speak. With the influx of feel-good emotions, he’s let himself get carried away. His siblings need a bit more hand holding with things like this. Try as they may, they still can’t see the big picture, not like Five can. In other words, his family trusts him, they believe in him, but they still think he’s batshit crazy sometimes.
The fact that they could be right is not worth considering at the moment.
“No, hear me out,” he says, and he’s starting to feel good about this for some reason. For a lot of reasons. Because the calculations work. Because the equations balance. Because his family is here. “It’s not what you think.”
They’re cautious, each and every one of them. Vanya presses her lips together, and she bites first. “Then what?”
His eyes are lighting up, he can feel it. He can feel the swell of adrenaline as it starts to course through him. He’s always enjoyed field work, probably more than he should. Their dad never trained them to be killers, but Five’s always found the back and forth of combat to be exhilarating. Killing for the Commission had sapped the energy from it, and he’d perfected his approach for the maximum efficiency, but it had never felt the same as it had when he was a kid.
When he was with his family.
It’s coming back to him, again, now more than ever. All the things their old man did wrong, maybe he did something right. Maybe this energy, this synergetic vibrancy, was what he had envisioned all along.
Five’s got a bad habit of proving Reginald Hargreeves right. He’d regret it, but he doesn’t regret it at all right now.
“We have to stop looking at this short term,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s not about the next fight or the one after that. We have to focus on the long game.”
They haven’t dismissed him yet, so that’s something. Luther has his eyes narrowed in focus as he prompts Five to go on. “Okay.”
Five nods, his enthusiasm building. “And sometimes you need to lose a battle in order to win a war.”
This is clearly not an answer that they like -- Diego is all but scowling -- but no one objects outright even if it’s obvious that they have no idea what he’s talking about. “What does that mean exactly?” Allison asks. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Well, try,” Five says. “Because my life depends on it.”
This may seem ominous to some, but as this is the first time Five’s talked about a plan in which he isn’t forfeiting himself for the rest of his days, it’s actually optimistic.
“That makes me feel so much better,” Klaus quips.
“Just let him talk,” Ben says.
“The plan,” Vanya says over both of them. “Tell us the plan.”
Five’s actually grinning by this point. “Just hear me out before you say anything,” he says. “Because the ends will definitely justify the means in this case.”
-o-
The end, as it turns out, is just another word for the beginning. And history repeats itself, and time changes everything, and Five’s standing on the edge of forever. It’s okay this time. He’s not alone.
That’s the variable in every equation that changes everything.
-o-
This plan, it might just work.
Not because it’s Five’s plan. Not because the equations work out.
Because his family is on board.
Will that be the critical difference?
Well, it’s about time to find out.
-o-
Time is of the essence.
Then again, Five’s waited decades to spend time with his family, so he thinks this is worth the wait. There’s no immediate sign of the Commission, but they keep their defenses up. Inside the Academy, Five explains everything his siblings need to know to make this work. It requires a fair amount more from them, but they’re teachable when they choose.
They’re all choosing it now.
When Five finishes his lessons, it seems only right to take their advice back in turn. He’s not trying to be sentimental or fatalistic about this, but carpe diem is not the worst way to live. The Commission is bad at that -- they think time is immeasurable without acknowledging that the human body’s finality still adds value that the clinical calculations at the home office can never substantiate.
Five knows, though.
He knows because he spent most of his life wanting to go back and relive on day, one dinner, one second. Sometimes, more often than people think, singular moments matter.
Five can’t be sure how many he has left.
So he better make them count.
-o-
Luther hates this plan more than the rest, though he tries his best not to say it. He hates that it’s a big plan and that he has such a small role. He hates that most of it is outside his control. Luther is not a control freak, not like Five.
Luther is, by contrast, a man who think it’s his responsibility to protect his family.
He and Luther have that in common, at least. They express it in manifestly distinct ways, but it’s still shared ground. Five doesn’t acknowledge it often, but he acknowledges it now.
“I left it all in my notes,” he says after they’re done one night. “I’ve been as explicit as possible, in case you have questions.”
Luther is looking at the notes, but Five knows he can’t see them.
Five sighs. “I know you have concerns.”
Luther shakes his head. “You said it yourself, it’s the only plan that works.”
“Sure, but you still have concerns,” Five says. He rocks back on his heels, puts his hands in his pocket. “You wouldn’t be Number One if you didn’t.”
At this, Five looks up. Five still remembers their conversation, the one in the stolen van after he’d just gotten back. Luther had called Five out for thinking he was better than the rest of them, and Five had validated it with a punctuated point.
It’s funny. Five still thinks he’s better than Luther and the rest in a lot of ways. Most ways.
But he’s also able to see why Luther was his father’s Number One.
Not for skill or intellect -- hell, no. But for something less definable. Something less teachable.
“You never thought it made sense, why Dad made me first,” Luther observes.
Five shrugs, not exactly apologetic. “Dad’s choices were made for utilitarian reasons, but then he pitted us against each other like it might make a difference.”
“Utilitarian,” Luther says, chewing his lip. “Sounds like something you’re appreciate.”
“I understand it, anyway,” Five says. “The rankings were never about who was better. It was just about who was more useful.”
Luther looks a little hurt by this, and he looks down again.
At this, Five sighs. “Look, I am nearly twice your age. I’ve done more than you can possibly know,” he says. “But we can’t forget that my insistence on being better is what made me skip ahead to the future in the first place. Sometimes, someone who can make the best decision for the greater good is more important than someone who can defy the laws of physics.”
This is quite magnanimous for Five. It’s marginally gratifying that Luther at least recognizes it. “So you’re sure about the plan? Really sure?”
“It requires us all to be fully committed to our parts,” Five says. “I know I can do my part, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have doubts about the rest of you.”
Five hasn’t said it explicitly as a challenge. Luther lifts his chin a little, rising to it anyway. “I’ll make sure the rest gets done,” he says with conviction now. “I mean, it’s all in here, right?”
“It’s all in there,” Five says. “With various contingencies and failsafes as well.”
“Then you trust us,” Luther says with growing confidence now. “We won’t let you down, you have my word.”
Luther’s not the best thinker, but he’s a man of his word, through and through. He’s Number One not merely for strength, but for loyalty.
“But you have to promise me something in return,” Luther implores.
Five cocks his head, curious.
“When you do your part, you have to promise me that you don’t lose the plot,” he says.
Five frowns. “I was able to plan my way back home for the better part of three decades,” he starts.
Luther shakes his head. “That’s the details,” he says. “I’m talking about the big picture. The reason why we’re doing this.”
Five listens, no snarky comeback for one.
“Family,” Luther reminds him. “We’re not trying to save the world. We’re not trying to even stop the Commission. We’re doing this for family. And I know what’s about to happen, and I know how easy it’ll be to forget--”
“I won’t,” Five promises, and it’s not a rash promise, it’s not hasty. It’s not presumptuous or perturbed. It’s just a promise. “I’ll remember the big picture.”
Luther smiles, a grin as big as his heart. “Then I think everything is going to be just fine.”
-o-
Diego’s take is not so inspired.
“I think this is all going to go to shit,” he says, bluntly as he can. He’s only half listened to Five’s latest instructions, and he’s barely picked up his notebook of assignments. “I mean, these things always do.”
It’s not a rousing endorsement, and it suggests that Diego hasn’t been listening nearly as closely as Five might have hoped considering the stakes. That said, he knows Diego has some semblance of an actual point. “That’s why we’re going over the details,” he says. “So we can be prepared.”
This logic does not appeal to Diego. He’s been noncommittal throughout their entire session, lounging on the couch and playing with his knives as Five paces the living room anxiously, making sure the details are clear.
“That’s fine and all, but there’s a different level of prep,” Diego says. He points at Five. “I mean, are you ready for what’s about to come?”
Five stares at him, hoping that the answer is evident. When Diego clearly does not make the connection, Five resists the urge to pick up the notes he’s made especially for Diego and bash him over the head with them. “Yeah,” he says. “I have done more calculations than you can imagine.”
Diego shakes his head, making a face. “Not calculations -- that’s what I’m talking about,” he says. “Are you ready physically?”
Five presses his lips together to keep something caustic from slipping out. It’s tempting, and Five’s not known for being nice and sweet, but if he’s going to enact this plan, then he doesn’t want the last thing he says to Diego to be negative.
Just in case.
Five knows from experience that he doesn’t want to go out on a bad note.
In some cases, it is better to be safe than sorry.
Really, really sorry.
“Yeah, I think I’m good,” he says. Understated is the only way to go right now.
Diego sits up, a little more intent now. The notes are totally forgotten on the coffee table. “Do you remember what we’ve worked on over the last few months? Your endurance training?”
Five stares and has the impulse to laugh. He fights back that impulse, and nods his head. “You mean the runs we went on?”
Five’s not trying to be mean, but Diego looks immediately offended. “We built up your stamina, increased your endurance,” he says. “And the boxing? Fine tuned your motor skills.”
“Yeah,” Five says. “I think I got it.”
“No, you don’t,” Diego retorts. “When you get out there, all by yourself, doing your thing, you’ve got to be prepared for the shit that’s coming. I mean, you’ve got, what, chapters on this stuff?”
“It’s not broken into chapters,” Five says, brows knitted together.
“Not the point,” Diego says. “The point is that you’ve got all this done in theory, but the practical application is going to be different than you think it is.”
“You do remember that I spent years by myself in the apocalypse and then trained as the best temporal assassin ever,” Five reminds him.
“And you came back talking to a mannequin,” Diego counter.
The heat rises in Five’s cheeks. “Don’t you dare talk about Delores that way--”
“Then stop acting like you don’t need to be prepared to endure, no matter how this goes,” he says. “Because once you’re there, once you do this, then it’s all you. And if you can’t pull this off? Then there’s no point in even starting this shit.”
It’s actually thoughtful. A little insightful, even.
Sure, it’s all stuff Five already knows, but Five will take the reminder.
That’s the advantage of not being alone, he figures. He’d be a fool to forget it.
“I have spent a lot of time thinking about your role in all of this, but your point stands,” Five says. “I know my part in this. And I know it won’t be easy. But I think I can do this. There’s really no other way around it.”
“And you’re think you’re ready?” Diego asks, and he’s a little keen on this point. “To do this on your own?”
Five feels his chest tighten by a matter of degrees. He’s spent most of his life on his own. All those years in the apocalypse, all those years with the Commission -- alone has defined him, mostly for worse.
The thought of doing it again.
Any of it.
Alone.
It’s more daunting than he can admit.
“It’ll be hard, I’ll grant you that,” he says finally, nodding his head. “But I’m not really alone this time. Am I?”
At that, Diego has to smile. “Just making sure you haven’t forgotten.”
Five picks up the papers he’s made for Diego and throws them at him. “I don’t think I could,” he says. “Now don’t make me regret it, okay?”
Diego holds up the papers and shrugs. “You said it,” he says. “It’s all part of the plan.”
-o-
The plan.
That’s what Five’s been talking about.
Allison humors him for a while when she takes her one on one, but only for a while. Five can tell her patience is wearing thin. Five has been explaining the nuances to her, point by point for her role, for nearly the last 30 minutes over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She’s barely touched her, and her arms are across her chest, the papers on the table.
Five wants to ignore this, but he finds he can’t. It’s irritating; most things are. He stops short and finally asks, “Am I boring you?”
“No, not at all,” she says. She flips over a page. “It’s a lot of stuff.”
“Stuff that saves all our lives,” Five says, trying to clarify why he’s bothering to do this at all. He had thought it would be a good way to go over things in a way each sibling would respond to. Also, he’d liked the idea of some time together given all the logistics of the plans. He’s just not all that good at any of this. “Stuff that we need to know.”
Allison sighs, pushing the papers away. “I know all the details, Five. I’ve read this and reread it. I think I’ve memorized it by now if you want me to go through it point by point. I’m not as good at quoting your probabilities, but I think I could do it.”
Five is slightly taken aback. “You said you still had questions.”
“Yeah,” she says. “But not about the details of how we pull this off.”
Five shakes his head, not quite putting this together. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t care about how we do this,” she says. “My whole life, I’ve been able to fill a role when I’m needed, and I fill the role damn well, thank you very much. No matter what it is. I think I can do this.”
“Well, this isn’t a movie part--”
“Five,” Allison says, emphatically now. “I understand the how. But I’m making sure we all still know the why.”
Five stops, cocking his head in confusion. “To stop the Commission, of course.”
“No, that’s the problem,” she says. She gestures toward the papers again. “This isn’t about stopping the Commission or whatever.”
Five is now somewhat vexed. “Then what do you think it’s about?”
“Family,” she says. And she’s thought about this. A lot. “This is about family.”
Five looks at her over the table, feeling like the answer is a bit of a copout. “Well, okay, sure,” Five says. “We all know that. I’m not sure why the distinction matters.”
Allison scoffs. “You keep telling us that the ends are going to justify the means in this one, but if I’m buying into that, then I need to make sure we’re working toward the same end.”
“Either way,” Five argues. “We have to stop the Commission in order to save our family.”
“But if you get down to it, if you know which comes first, then that’ll dictate your decisions,” she says. “And I need to know, if I’m going to be all in with the crazy details you have lined up, that you’ll make the right choice if you have to. If you have to pick between the Commission and the family, you’ll walk away from your vendetta against them and do what you promised us.”
He came prepared for nuance, but here Allison is, presenting it right back. It’s not so much that he doesn’t know any of this; it’s just that he doesn’t often think about it. It’s impossible to deny that you have to make fast decisions, hard decision in the field. And if this goes according to plan, they’ll be his decisions and his decisions alone. There’s an inherent risk putting that much responsibility on one person.
Even if that person is Five.
Maybe especially if that person is Five.
“Everything I’ve done has always been for family,” he reminds her. “You know that.”
“Yeah, but then you went off twice and nearly sold yourself out,” she volleys back.
“To save you!” he says.
“That’s what you’re missing,” she says. “Family includes you. It’s all of us, you and me and Vanya now. I mean, that’s what saved the world, and we finally got it back, the way we want it, and I will not allow anyone to jeopardize that, not even for the best intentions.”
There’s a conviction there that Five actually respects. Allison is unique in this way, probably because she’s been forced to fully understand the difference between the truth and a lie. Five knows he’s got no such luxury. He knows that the years of solitude, his training as a killer -- it muddles the mind. It’s not that Five’s crazy -- he knows exactly what he’s doing -- but it’s that the small things that make sense to everyone else make no sense at all to Five. He’s not got a great sense of time, when you get right down to it, and he still almost recoils every time someone attempts to touch him. He’s curt and says things he shouldn’t, and he tends to forget that the world he’s living in is, in fact, permanent now.
Family is a concept that saved his life. He doesn’t doubt that. This idea that he can save them, that’s the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is now. But family, in a real sense, is more than an emotional crutch. It’s not a vague concept. It’s not theoretical.
There’s a practical side to it, as well.
It’s not a concept to believe in.
It’s a reality to live in.
Five wants to save his family.
His family includes him.
The logic is not one Five carries to its due end as often as he should, and he feels the color rise in his cheeks. Is he embarrassed? Of what? He’s not sure and then he’s also very sure. “This still feels a bit weird to me,” he admits. “Not the most efficient way to go about things.”
Now, Allison is smiling. “One thing I’ve learned as a parent: efficiency is rarely part of the picture.”
“That’s a terrible way to save the world,” Five points out.
“Sure,” she says. “But it’s the only way to save a family.”
Five will admit, she has a point with that.
-o-
Going over the details with Allison is actually somewhat useful.
Going over the details with Klaus, however, is something of an exercise in insanity. You might think that now that Klaus was sober, he was more in control of his faculties. In some circumstances, you might be right. Klaus is increasingly useful in combat. However, that is about the extent of the gains.
He’s still completely impossible in every other context. He’s hardly ever on topic. His contributions are haphazard are best. He’s late, he’s distracted and he tells the worst jokes ever. He never wants to focus, and he still dresses in a way that suggests he doesn’t know how.
After an hour in Klaus room, trying to go over the finer points, Five has made little headway. Klaus, on the other hand, has knitted half a mitten, taken apart half a knitted mitten, dance the macarena, burns an incense candle, made his bed and found (and consumed) half a box of Oreo cookies.
“It’s the sobriety, let me tell you,” Klaus says, wiping crumbs on his bed, which he is in the process of unmaking for no apparent reason. “I’m hungry all the time. And maybe I was before, but I didn’t know it, or maybe it’s just, like, my way of compensating. The body wants something tasty and if it can’t have those chemicals, the ones in Oreos will have to suffice. Did you realize how many chemicals are in these things? I mean, it’s like, a lot!”
Five is listening and he wishes he wouldn’t. He’s been trying hard at this, but he’s at about the end of himself. He’s not sure how to bring Klaus back on point, and he knows his brother cares -- Klaus always cares -- but he’s not sure Klaus is grasping the full reality of what they’re about to undertake. This plan, it’s not for the faint of heart. This plan, it’s not for people to sit around talking about Oreos.
Klaus isn’t useless anymore.
So why does he insist on acting like he is?
“You do realize that what I’m telling you could save your life and my life,” he says. “That if you get this wrong, there probably won’t be any second chances. No more miracles fixes.”
“It’s important, I got it,” Klaus says, flitting his hand through the air. “You go, turn yourself in, yadda, yadda, yadda.”
“The yadda, yadda, yadda is the part where no one dies,” Five reiterates with remarkable control.
“Oh, don’t worry so much, old man!” Klaus grouses. “I know the plan!”
“But do you?” Five asks, not able to hold back the accusation in his voice. “Because I’ve been trying to get you to confirm any part of it for an hour, and all you can do is tell me that Oreos have preservatives.”
“Is that what they’re called?” Klaus asks. “That makes sense--”
Five shakes his head. “I need you to focus! For the love of -- I need you to focus.”
Klaus blinks, shaking his attention back to Five. “Wait. Are you -- are you scared?”
Five sits back, indignant. “No.”
“You are!” Klaus says with undue glee.
“I’m just concerned that you’re not fully grasping your role in this,” Five counters. And he doesn’t sound petulant. He doesn’t.
But Klaus claps his hands in apparent delight. “You’re terrified!”
Five is ready to be done with this. He starts to the door. “This is a waste of valuable time--”
“No, no, Five, come back,” he says, and he gets moderately serious again. “Really. Please, I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
Five hesitates at the door, and he does turn back with a skeptical look at his brother.
Klaus makes a grand gesture. “It’s probably good that you’re scared--”
Five glares at him.
Klaus holds up his hand in apology. “Nervous,” he clarifies. “I mean, this whole thing, it’s crazy, right?”
Five rolls his eyes. “It’s not crazy. It makes total sense, if you’d just read it--”
“Sure, I’m sure, sure,” Klaus says. “Numbers and probabilities -- but I mean, think about it. All this time, you’re still going after the Commission. I thought the apocalypse was your drug, but I think maybe I was wrong.”
With a huff, Five shakes his head. “I have told you before,” he says, seething with barely constrained rage. “I am not an addict.”
“Yeah, as convincing as that is--”
This time, Five turns away again. “I can’t do this with you, not now.”
“Okay, okay!” Klaus calls after him. “I’m sorry! I am! I’m listening!”
More reluctantly this time, Five tuns back around.
“I think you’re misinterpreting what I’m trying to say right now,” Klaus says.
Five purses his lips. “You’re trying to belittle me by telling me that I’m obsessed and therefore what I have to say isn’t as important as whatever the hell you think you’re doing at this moment.”
Klaus opens his mouth, but he closes it when he can’t quite argue. Before Five can turn away again, he lights upon something resembling inspiration. “Maybe, but the point you’re missing is important.”
“What?” Five says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That you’re an idiot?”
Klaus has that look, that look he gets when he’s being real about something, when it’s not all deflection and drama. “It’s just, I don’t know. I mean, I think you shouldn’t try to pretend like you’re not addicted because you clearly are--”
Five is ready to protest, but Klaus persists.
“And maybe that’s not bad,” Klaus finishes rapidly. He shrugs, a little, helpless sort of shrug. Not the kind where you give up. The kind where you’re accepting the inevitable because you’ve finally realized that it is, in fact, inevitable. “I mean, some addictions might actually be okay.”
Five is skeptical of this conclusion. One has to be around Klaus. There’s no part of him that wants to encourage his brother toward anything resembling addiction -- ever. “Addictions are about surrendering control.”
Klaus holds up his hands to show that he gets it, he agrees. “No, no, I get that, I do,” he says. “And trust me, I’m not pretending that my addiction is a good thing -- I mean, fun. It was fun, okay. Because that feeling you get when you’re high and the world is just--”
He cuts off at the severity of Five’s reproachful look.
“But some addictions can, I don’t know, make the world a better place,” Klaus continues, back on point again.”
Five’s eyes are still narrowed, his arms still crossed over his chest, but he doesn’t move any closer to the door. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, I mean, look at the evidence,” Klaus says with another gesture. “Your addiction kept you alive in the apocalypse. Like the actual apocalypse. And then you were able to travel back in time to save us -- to save the world. Your addiction literally saved the world. I mean, mine, if I hadn’t gotten sober? I was part of why it was about to end.”
Klaus has always been capable of unexpected insights at unexpected times. This has only become more pointed now that he’s sober. Five imagines that’s called wisdom, though he would hate to say so and give Klaus an inflated view of himself. His brother can already be insufferable; Five sees no reason to thus encourage him. “Well, if you really think that, then I don’t know why you’re refusing to listen,” Five says, rocking back on his heels and unfurling his arms from across his chest. “These are details that could save all our lives.”
Levering himself up, Klaus makes some show of standing. “I know, I know, and you’re right, you are,” he rambles. “But aren’t you hungry? I mean, I’m so hungry. I think we should eat. Dinner, right? Can we get dinner?”
Five scowls. “But it’s three in the afternoon.”
“And I’m starving,” Klaus informs him, making his way toward him. He grins, as though he expects Five to find him endearing. “Do you like pancakes?”
“Pancakes are a breakfast food,” Five counters.
“Fine, good point,” Klaus says. “Waffles. We get waffles right now or I don’t listen to another word.”
This is not the most efficient way of going about things. It hardly seems like they should have time for this.
It is, however, possibly the better way of going about things. Honestly, this is probably the time to make the time.
Before it runs out entirely.
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
-o-
Five’s getting ahead of himself, just like always. He’s too smart to be this stupid, but that’s how it is.
Maybe this is where the story begins.
Five can’t tell yet.
Five can’t.
-o-
He comes to when Luther is standing on his toes, using one of Diego’s knives to cut him down. His awareness hasn’t solidified yet, and when the rope is sliced clean, he’s falling with no way to stop himself. The rush of air around him is short lived, and Diego catches him easily while Allison guides them to the floor.
Klaus and Vanya hover over him as they lay him out. When Allison starts to look at his leg, he grunts and tries to pull away.
It doesn’t do any good.
“We need to see,” Luther tells him, his large shadow looming over them now. “We need to check out how bad it is.”
Five would laugh if he had the energy. This whole thing is not simply bad. It’s a disaster of unmitigated proportions.
Allison prods at his leg again, and Five flinches. The pain is acute enough to break him from his thoughts and he lifts his head, scowling down the length of his too-small body. “It didn’t hit anything vital,” he reports, wincing as Allison lifts the hem of his shorts.
“You don’t know that,” Diego says from beside her.
“Yeah, I do,” Five says. He breathes through the pain to reply as plaintively as he can. “If it had hit something vital, I would be dead by now.”
This does not seem to be as reassuring as he thinks it should be. Logic means so little to his siblings; it’s appalling.
“Well, just humor us, then,” Klaus says. “Because it looks gnarly.”
Five allows that, and decides it’s an irrelevant point to debate. They’ll come to their own conclusions soon enough, and Five has other things to assessed. Namely, his siblings. For all that they were fretting over him, he sees reason to fret over them. Luther’s shirt is still missing from earlier, and the worst of his wounds are still leaking blood. The scars on Diego’s arms are red and raw, and Allison moves tenderly as she bends over Five’s leg. This is not because she’s being careful for Five’s sake; this has everything to do with her broken ribs. Klaus has endured it best with his wet hair drying into curls on the top of his head. And Vanya just looks scared.
He settles his eyes on Vanya.
Vanya.
Allison picks that precise moment to apply pressure to his leg. Five isn’t expecting it, and the sudden surge of pain almost makes him choke. “What the -- hell?” he asks through jagged breaths. He looks down again, seeing that someone’s shirt has been tied around the wounded appendage. He hates the fact that his leg is so skinny that it fits easily. “Are you done yet?”
Allison holds up her hands defensively.
“Of course we’re not done,” Diego says. “You took a bullet to the leg.”
“And you have second degree burns on your arm,” Five says with a scowl. “How does that bleach feel?”
Diego’s impulse toward violence is predictable.
As is Luther’s intervention. “We’re all going to need to get looked over,” he says. “Mom and Pogo will have questions, but we can’t do this ourselves.”
That’s ironic, considering that their entire approach has been to do this themselves. Five exhales in frustration, managing to prop himself up on his elbows. “You are all acting like it matters,” he says. “The Commission could come back at any moment.”
His siblings exchange odd looks. Klaus looks at Five a little sympathetically. “You sure about that, little brother?”
Five hates the nickname immediately, but before he can inform Klaus that repeating such a term of endearment will result in serious injury, he realizes what his siblings are looking at. Not just each other. The warehouse.
More accurately, the bodies in the warehouse.
Shit, they’re everywhere.
All the agents, every last one of them, from the original team to the reinforcements, are all dead. The store clerk, who had been standing no more than a foot away from Five, is sprawled out with his neck broken halfway across the dimly lit area.
He looks back at his siblings, who suddenly have no idea what to say. He locks eyes with Vanya. “Did you do this?”
She looks nervous, a little guilty. “I woke up and saw him coming at you,” she admits. “The others, they were yelling, and the sound of their voices, their panic -- I’ve never felt it that powerful before.”
“She’s learning to control it, too,” Luther says, and it’s hard to say, but it sounds like a note of pride. “Everyone around us was killed, but not a scratch on us.”
“She’s turning into our secret weapon,” Diego agrees.
“Yeah, at least we know when Vanya’s around, it doesn’t matter how badly we screw up,” Klaus says, and he’s joking but he’s not. No one is laughing.
Five struggles, mindful of his bound leg, as he sits up. “They can still come back,” he says, a little stubborn. “They will.”
“It’ll take time,” Allison says. “We need to get back to the Academy.”
“It doesn’t have to take time,” Five says. “They can pull in and out as fast or often as they see fit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have fresh agents for recon on the ground right now.”
“Well, more reason to book it, then,” Diego says.
“We’re vulnerable here,” Luther agrees.
They’re vulnerable everywhere, but there’s no point in saying it.
Que sera, sera.
Five knows there are some things he can change.
He’s just not sure his family’s short sighted viewpoint is one of them.
-o-
They are a sad sight walking home. They’re limping and hunched over, they’re breathless and stiff. The half mile they had walked so effortlessly before seems to take an eternity now. Five tries not to think of it as wasted time -- time wherein the Commission is regrouping and preparing their next plan -- but who is he kidding?
That’s exactly what it is.
They’re slumping off into the night, licking their wounds. They’re finding solidarity, taking comfort in one another. They’re taking stock, as if they can come up with some fortitude that will help them fare better the next time around.
In that light, it’s a little pathetic, honestly. Step by step, each one agonizing and each one pointless.
Five can’t bring himself to say it yet.
Some might call it weakness.
Limping, bloodied and sore, Five knows they would be right.
-o-
When they do get back, it’s nearly morning. Pogo is waiting for them, like he’s been expecting this to happen, and Grace is summoned within moments. Basic triage being what it is, Five is forced to lay down first, and he doesn’t object when their mother hooks up the IV with a smile.
“You’ll start to feel better soon,” she assures him. The needle slides into the crook of his arm and he grimaces. “I’m giving you fluids to replace the blood you’ve lost, and there’s a little something in there to help with the pain, to let you sleep.”
He can feel it, the coolness of the drip as it hits his veins. “They could come back,” he murmurs, flicking his eyes to his siblings. They’re gathered around, staying out of Mom’s way, but they’re sticking close. “They will come back.”
“We’ll be ready for it,” Luther promises.
“All defenses up,” Diego says.
Allison smiles gently. “You don’t need to worry about it for now.”
“Yeah, you know,” Klaus adds. “Just leave this one to us. We totally got this.”
It’s Vanya who takes his hand and squeezes. “It’s going to be okay, Five,” she says. “It’s going to be okay.”
This is a lie.
Five knows it is.
When he wakes up, he’ll have to call them on it. When he wakes up, he’ll have to confront the truth. When he wakes up, there’ll be no avoiding it.
Vanya looks fuzzy now, even as she smiles. The others are starting to blur together.
“I’m going to have to clean his wound first,” his mother says. “It won’t be easy to watch.”
Five blinks, slowly, slower.
When he wakes up.
When he….
When.
-o-
When is an annoying qualification, as far as Five’s concerned. It’s actually quite meaningless, all these times and dates. In the apocalypse, all the days had blurred together. If not for the tally he keeps, he’d have no sense of it at all. Time travel is even worse, quite honestly. The Handler had asked for Five years, but there’s no way to chart the days when you slide in and out of them.
From day to day, week to week, century to century.
He’d stopped asking when in his briefings. Just who and what.
Being linear is harder than he remember, and as young as he looks, Five’s never felt older.
He doesn’t tell his siblings; he doesn’t tell anyone.
Every time he closes his eyes, he’s worried he’ll wake up in the future, in a wasteland. He’s worried that when he wakes up, he’ll find out all of this is just a dream. It wouldn’t surprise him, honestly, even if the prospect balls up like terror lodged in his throat, hard enough to choke on.
Hope is the anchor that moors you in the storm.
And when the storm overpowers you, hope is the thing that drowns you just below the surface.
When
-o-
And then Five wakes up.
He discerns quickly that he’s back at the Academy and that his leg is bandaged and his vitals must have been restored to normal levels. He’s sore and weak and otherwise fine. He’s still in the infirmary, which has been updated and expanded as part of Luther’s efforts to revitalize the Academy. While everything is neat and tidy -- a sure sign that Grace and Pogo have been here recently -- there’s no sign of them now.
Instead, in five identical beds, his siblings are all resting as well. There’s a sixth one, presumably for Ben, whenever Klaus and the others wake up.
For a moment, Five watches them. He considers sneaking out, right here and right now, and finishing what he’s started. If he goes now, he might be able to make the deal with the Commission. He knows the Commission will still take the deal; it’s a deal they’ll always take.
It’s just a deal his siblings won’t let him make.
It’s vexing to him. How he can be a world class assassin and he can’t even outsmart his own emotionally crippled siblings.
Therefore, even as he speculates a solo plan, he knows he can’t do it. He won’t do it. He won’t make them chase him again.
So what’s he going to do?
He sighs, laying back, and looks at the ceiling.
That’s the question, then.
Turning his head, Five sees a pen nearby. He reaches for it, grabbing the first thing he can that will take the ink. Ben will be pissed at him for using his book, but Five doesn’t. He opens to the first page and starts his equation.
He knows the odds aren’t good.
That’s never stopped him before.
-o-
By the time the others wake up, Five has scrawled through the entire book. He’s started making cross reference notes on gauze pads, sitting up on his bed with his leg as still as possible. It’s starting to ache -- the drugs are wearing off -- but he’s steadfastly ignoring it as his latest equations continue to confirm Five’s initial speculation.
The plan had always been the only one that would work.
But that didn’t mean that the variables couldn’t be changed for their benefit.
The trick is convincing his family of this.
He waits until they’re all awake, sitting up, looking disheveled before he starts in. “Well, that was an absolute failure,” he says, taking some pleasure as their faces fall. They all know that he’s telling the truth, but they’ve been consoling themselves in the fact that they all made it out alive. There are kinder ways to do this, but this is going to be the most effective. Five doesn’t have a calculation to prove that. He doesn’t need one, not when it comes to his family. “In fact, I don’t think it could have gone poorer.”
Luther looks like Five may have hit him. The stitches on his abdomen are still visible, as if bandaging the hairy exterior was too much work. “It didn’t go that bad.”
Diego, whose burns have been covered, has already found one of his knives to fiddle with. “You’re the one who went off book, smart ass,” he says. “What were you thinking? Offering the deal?”
The looks on their faces show that they share Diego’s opinion.
Five rolls his eyes. “I was trying to save your lives, as you recall,” he says. “Not that you appear very grateful for it.”
“We already told you,” Allison says. “We don’t want that. None of us are expendable.”
“I know,” Five says. “That’s what I’ve been tell you all along. But none of you seem to get it.”
“To be fair, how can we get it?” Klaus asks. He shrugs, gesturing to the others. “Come on, like any of you understand when he starts talking about equations and probabilities.”
Ben has manifested again. He gives Klaus a withering look. “I don’t think this is about equations.”
Klaus points at Five, indignant. “He’s writing them everywhere! How is this not about equations?”
“It’s about the odds,” Five clarifies for him, both validating Klaus and reminding him that he’s an idiot. “The odds of us all dying because we’re unable to think about sacrificing one.”
“But we got out,” Vanya says, like that’s the only thing that matters. And maybe it is, this time. Next time, Five has his doubts. “We have to focus on that.”
“No,” Five says, voice starting to rise. “That’s what we need to not focus on. We barely got out of there alive. Barely. And at what cost? The Commission has more intelligence on us now. When they come back for us again -- and they will come back for us -- they’re going to know even better how to neutralize us.”
“And so we neutralize them,” Luther declares. “Again.”
It’s feel-good belief. It’s strength of character.
It’s also ridiculous. “The risk is nonsensical,” Five says. “This all-for-one crap doesn’t make sense on a purely mathematical level.”
“Oi, with the numbers!” Klaus says.
Diego tips his head in implicit agreement. “Your math is shit, Five.”
“No, my math is right,” Five reminds them. “It has been since the beginning. Everything I’ve told you has come true.”
“But we’re family,” Luther says before anyone else can come up with a pithy reply. He shakes his head. “That’s always got to be at the heart of every choice we make, no matter the odds.”
“You think I don’t get that?” Five says. “Why do you think I keep making that offer?”
“Wait,” Klaus says, holding up a finger. “Is this where you try to justify your self destructive behavior for the greater good? Because I can think of better self destructive habits, let me tell you--”
Five shakes his head with a glare. “Because that offer is the only plan that preserves the family,” he says. He waves his new book of calculations at them to prove his point. “The odds are that we all die if we do nothing. I’ve already seen you all die; I don’t want to do it again. If my freedom can guarantee yours, then that’s not just good odds. That’s what families do for each other.”
It’s a bit more than they’re expecting, and their silence is telling. They still think Five’s an asshole, probably because he is, but still.
Luther finally exhales, speaking for them all. “And we’re saying, throw out the odds,” he says. “Let’s just face what comes as best we can. Together.”
“That’s foolish,” Five says. “I can’t let you walk in blindly, not when you’ll all probably die. I can’t have you all dying on my account.”
“And we’re supposed to let you die on ours?” Allison asks. “I know you’re selfish, Five, but come on.”
“No, you come on,” Five says. “We can’t keep fighting the Commission. They have infinite resources, I’ve told you this. We don’t.”
“But we won twice,” Diego says with some emphasis now. Clearly, he thinks this matters. “I mean, look at the facts. They dispute your odds. With Vanya, we’re basically invincible.”
Vanya looks moderately uncomfortable with the attention.
Five is downright repulsed. “You don’t understand,” he says. “Our odds grow less and less every time we face them. They get to hit the reset button after every fight. We don’t. While we’re here trying to recover, the Commission is already out there, planning their next attack.”
“So we keep doing it then,” Luther says with all the elegance of a blunt force object.
“Forever?” Five asks. He raises his eyebrows. “Because that’s what they can do. That’s what they will do.”
Luther seems to take his words as a challenge, and he squares his shoulders and raises his chin. He cuts an impressive figure without the layers of clothing he uses to hide behind. “If we have to, yes.”
Five is not one to be intimidated, however. “Then it’s only a matter of time before one of us is taken out,” he says. “And when that happens, the rest of us will fall back, and they’ll pick us off, one by one. You keep telling me that no one here is expendable, but all of the Commission’s agents are. If you don’t care about the odds, fine. But you should care about that.”
His point is valid.
More than valid, it’s good.
They know it’s good, and his siblings are quiet for a moment. It’s Ben, hovering on the spare bed they leave open for him, who finally speaks. “So what then?”
And that’s the point that Five’s been going for. That’s why he chose this tact. He needed them to ask for it. That’s the only way he can get them to listen to the plan without rejecting it outright.
“Well, it’s not easy,” Five admits, but he picks up his book of notes again. He shakes it in the air. “But I have one plan left. One plan that tips all the odds in our favor. One plan that lets us win, all of us.”
He’s worked hard to build to this point, and he’s pleased to see that it’s not all been in vain. His siblings are taking him seriously, and it’s still a bit remarkable to him how gratifying it is to have someone actually believe in you. Delores had always done what she could, bless her, but stuck together alone at the end of the world doesn’t give you a lot of options. She had to believe in him or they’d both stop existing.
His family has the choice.
Despite Five’s ups and downs during this whole ordeal, they’re choosing him this time.
“What is it?” Luther asks on behalf of them all.
Five feels more resolute than he has in months. Years, maybe. Shit, maybe decades. He tries to remember the indignation that had led him out the front door the first time he was 13, and it’s nothing compared to the way he feels right here, right now.
He doesn’t want to let them down.
That’s a thing, right? Wanting to be there for people? That’s family.
“Well, it starts off pretty simple,” Five says. “I turn myself over to the Commission.”
The trust in their expressions falls immediately, and their protests are loud, overstated and many.
“What?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Wow, I thought I could only feel like this when I was high--”
“No, absolutely not.”
“But I thought we talked about this!”
Five holds up his hands, drawing them to silence. Clearly, he’s jumped the gun, so to speak. With the influx of feel-good emotions, he’s let himself get carried away. His siblings need a bit more hand holding with things like this. Try as they may, they still can’t see the big picture, not like Five can. In other words, his family trusts him, they believe in him, but they still think he’s batshit crazy sometimes.
The fact that they could be right is not worth considering at the moment.
“No, hear me out,” he says, and he’s starting to feel good about this for some reason. For a lot of reasons. Because the calculations work. Because the equations balance. Because his family is here. “It’s not what you think.”
They’re cautious, each and every one of them. Vanya presses her lips together, and she bites first. “Then what?”
His eyes are lighting up, he can feel it. He can feel the swell of adrenaline as it starts to course through him. He’s always enjoyed field work, probably more than he should. Their dad never trained them to be killers, but Five’s always found the back and forth of combat to be exhilarating. Killing for the Commission had sapped the energy from it, and he’d perfected his approach for the maximum efficiency, but it had never felt the same as it had when he was a kid.
When he was with his family.
It’s coming back to him, again, now more than ever. All the things their old man did wrong, maybe he did something right. Maybe this energy, this synergetic vibrancy, was what he had envisioned all along.
Five’s got a bad habit of proving Reginald Hargreeves right. He’d regret it, but he doesn’t regret it at all right now.
“We have to stop looking at this short term,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s not about the next fight or the one after that. We have to focus on the long game.”
They haven’t dismissed him yet, so that’s something. Luther has his eyes narrowed in focus as he prompts Five to go on. “Okay.”
Five nods, his enthusiasm building. “And sometimes you need to lose a battle in order to win a war.”
This is clearly not an answer that they like -- Diego is all but scowling -- but no one objects outright even if it’s obvious that they have no idea what he’s talking about. “What does that mean exactly?” Allison asks. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Well, try,” Five says. “Because my life depends on it.”
This may seem ominous to some, but as this is the first time Five’s talked about a plan in which he isn’t forfeiting himself for the rest of his days, it’s actually optimistic.
“That makes me feel so much better,” Klaus quips.
“Just let him talk,” Ben says.
“The plan,” Vanya says over both of them. “Tell us the plan.”
Five’s actually grinning by this point. “Just hear me out before you say anything,” he says. “Because the ends will definitely justify the means in this case.”
-o-
The end, as it turns out, is just another word for the beginning. And history repeats itself, and time changes everything, and Five’s standing on the edge of forever. It’s okay this time. He’s not alone.
That’s the variable in every equation that changes everything.
-o-
This plan, it might just work.
Not because it’s Five’s plan. Not because the equations work out.
Because his family is on board.
Will that be the critical difference?
Well, it’s about time to find out.
-o-
Time is of the essence.
Then again, Five’s waited decades to spend time with his family, so he thinks this is worth the wait. There’s no immediate sign of the Commission, but they keep their defenses up. Inside the Academy, Five explains everything his siblings need to know to make this work. It requires a fair amount more from them, but they’re teachable when they choose.
They’re all choosing it now.
When Five finishes his lessons, it seems only right to take their advice back in turn. He’s not trying to be sentimental or fatalistic about this, but carpe diem is not the worst way to live. The Commission is bad at that -- they think time is immeasurable without acknowledging that the human body’s finality still adds value that the clinical calculations at the home office can never substantiate.
Five knows, though.
He knows because he spent most of his life wanting to go back and relive on day, one dinner, one second. Sometimes, more often than people think, singular moments matter.
Five can’t be sure how many he has left.
So he better make them count.
-o-
Luther hates this plan more than the rest, though he tries his best not to say it. He hates that it’s a big plan and that he has such a small role. He hates that most of it is outside his control. Luther is not a control freak, not like Five.
Luther is, by contrast, a man who think it’s his responsibility to protect his family.
He and Luther have that in common, at least. They express it in manifestly distinct ways, but it’s still shared ground. Five doesn’t acknowledge it often, but he acknowledges it now.
“I left it all in my notes,” he says after they’re done one night. “I’ve been as explicit as possible, in case you have questions.”
Luther is looking at the notes, but Five knows he can’t see them.
Five sighs. “I know you have concerns.”
Luther shakes his head. “You said it yourself, it’s the only plan that works.”
“Sure, but you still have concerns,” Five says. He rocks back on his heels, puts his hands in his pocket. “You wouldn’t be Number One if you didn’t.”
At this, Five looks up. Five still remembers their conversation, the one in the stolen van after he’d just gotten back. Luther had called Five out for thinking he was better than the rest of them, and Five had validated it with a punctuated point.
It’s funny. Five still thinks he’s better than Luther and the rest in a lot of ways. Most ways.
But he’s also able to see why Luther was his father’s Number One.
Not for skill or intellect -- hell, no. But for something less definable. Something less teachable.
“You never thought it made sense, why Dad made me first,” Luther observes.
Five shrugs, not exactly apologetic. “Dad’s choices were made for utilitarian reasons, but then he pitted us against each other like it might make a difference.”
“Utilitarian,” Luther says, chewing his lip. “Sounds like something you’re appreciate.”
“I understand it, anyway,” Five says. “The rankings were never about who was better. It was just about who was more useful.”
Luther looks a little hurt by this, and he looks down again.
At this, Five sighs. “Look, I am nearly twice your age. I’ve done more than you can possibly know,” he says. “But we can’t forget that my insistence on being better is what made me skip ahead to the future in the first place. Sometimes, someone who can make the best decision for the greater good is more important than someone who can defy the laws of physics.”
This is quite magnanimous for Five. It’s marginally gratifying that Luther at least recognizes it. “So you’re sure about the plan? Really sure?”
“It requires us all to be fully committed to our parts,” Five says. “I know I can do my part, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have doubts about the rest of you.”
Five hasn’t said it explicitly as a challenge. Luther lifts his chin a little, rising to it anyway. “I’ll make sure the rest gets done,” he says with conviction now. “I mean, it’s all in here, right?”
“It’s all in there,” Five says. “With various contingencies and failsafes as well.”
“Then you trust us,” Luther says with growing confidence now. “We won’t let you down, you have my word.”
Luther’s not the best thinker, but he’s a man of his word, through and through. He’s Number One not merely for strength, but for loyalty.
“But you have to promise me something in return,” Luther implores.
Five cocks his head, curious.
“When you do your part, you have to promise me that you don’t lose the plot,” he says.
Five frowns. “I was able to plan my way back home for the better part of three decades,” he starts.
Luther shakes his head. “That’s the details,” he says. “I’m talking about the big picture. The reason why we’re doing this.”
Five listens, no snarky comeback for one.
“Family,” Luther reminds him. “We’re not trying to save the world. We’re not trying to even stop the Commission. We’re doing this for family. And I know what’s about to happen, and I know how easy it’ll be to forget--”
“I won’t,” Five promises, and it’s not a rash promise, it’s not hasty. It’s not presumptuous or perturbed. It’s just a promise. “I’ll remember the big picture.”
Luther smiles, a grin as big as his heart. “Then I think everything is going to be just fine.”
-o-
Diego’s take is not so inspired.
“I think this is all going to go to shit,” he says, bluntly as he can. He’s only half listened to Five’s latest instructions, and he’s barely picked up his notebook of assignments. “I mean, these things always do.”
It’s not a rousing endorsement, and it suggests that Diego hasn’t been listening nearly as closely as Five might have hoped considering the stakes. That said, he knows Diego has some semblance of an actual point. “That’s why we’re going over the details,” he says. “So we can be prepared.”
This logic does not appeal to Diego. He’s been noncommittal throughout their entire session, lounging on the couch and playing with his knives as Five paces the living room anxiously, making sure the details are clear.
“That’s fine and all, but there’s a different level of prep,” Diego says. He points at Five. “I mean, are you ready for what’s about to come?”
Five stares at him, hoping that the answer is evident. When Diego clearly does not make the connection, Five resists the urge to pick up the notes he’s made especially for Diego and bash him over the head with them. “Yeah,” he says. “I have done more calculations than you can imagine.”
Diego shakes his head, making a face. “Not calculations -- that’s what I’m talking about,” he says. “Are you ready physically?”
Five presses his lips together to keep something caustic from slipping out. It’s tempting, and Five’s not known for being nice and sweet, but if he’s going to enact this plan, then he doesn’t want the last thing he says to Diego to be negative.
Just in case.
Five knows from experience that he doesn’t want to go out on a bad note.
In some cases, it is better to be safe than sorry.
Really, really sorry.
“Yeah, I think I’m good,” he says. Understated is the only way to go right now.
Diego sits up, a little more intent now. The notes are totally forgotten on the coffee table. “Do you remember what we’ve worked on over the last few months? Your endurance training?”
Five stares and has the impulse to laugh. He fights back that impulse, and nods his head. “You mean the runs we went on?”
Five’s not trying to be mean, but Diego looks immediately offended. “We built up your stamina, increased your endurance,” he says. “And the boxing? Fine tuned your motor skills.”
“Yeah,” Five says. “I think I got it.”
“No, you don’t,” Diego retorts. “When you get out there, all by yourself, doing your thing, you’ve got to be prepared for the shit that’s coming. I mean, you’ve got, what, chapters on this stuff?”
“It’s not broken into chapters,” Five says, brows knitted together.
“Not the point,” Diego says. “The point is that you’ve got all this done in theory, but the practical application is going to be different than you think it is.”
“You do remember that I spent years by myself in the apocalypse and then trained as the best temporal assassin ever,” Five reminds him.
“And you came back talking to a mannequin,” Diego counter.
The heat rises in Five’s cheeks. “Don’t you dare talk about Delores that way--”
“Then stop acting like you don’t need to be prepared to endure, no matter how this goes,” he says. “Because once you’re there, once you do this, then it’s all you. And if you can’t pull this off? Then there’s no point in even starting this shit.”
It’s actually thoughtful. A little insightful, even.
Sure, it’s all stuff Five already knows, but Five will take the reminder.
That’s the advantage of not being alone, he figures. He’d be a fool to forget it.
“I have spent a lot of time thinking about your role in all of this, but your point stands,” Five says. “I know my part in this. And I know it won’t be easy. But I think I can do this. There’s really no other way around it.”
“And you’re think you’re ready?” Diego asks, and he’s a little keen on this point. “To do this on your own?”
Five feels his chest tighten by a matter of degrees. He’s spent most of his life on his own. All those years in the apocalypse, all those years with the Commission -- alone has defined him, mostly for worse.
The thought of doing it again.
Any of it.
Alone.
It’s more daunting than he can admit.
“It’ll be hard, I’ll grant you that,” he says finally, nodding his head. “But I’m not really alone this time. Am I?”
At that, Diego has to smile. “Just making sure you haven’t forgotten.”
Five picks up the papers he’s made for Diego and throws them at him. “I don’t think I could,” he says. “Now don’t make me regret it, okay?”
Diego holds up the papers and shrugs. “You said it,” he says. “It’s all part of the plan.”
-o-
The plan.
That’s what Five’s been talking about.
Allison humors him for a while when she takes her one on one, but only for a while. Five can tell her patience is wearing thin. Five has been explaining the nuances to her, point by point for her role, for nearly the last 30 minutes over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She’s barely touched her, and her arms are across her chest, the papers on the table.
Five wants to ignore this, but he finds he can’t. It’s irritating; most things are. He stops short and finally asks, “Am I boring you?”
“No, not at all,” she says. She flips over a page. “It’s a lot of stuff.”
“Stuff that saves all our lives,” Five says, trying to clarify why he’s bothering to do this at all. He had thought it would be a good way to go over things in a way each sibling would respond to. Also, he’d liked the idea of some time together given all the logistics of the plans. He’s just not all that good at any of this. “Stuff that we need to know.”
Allison sighs, pushing the papers away. “I know all the details, Five. I’ve read this and reread it. I think I’ve memorized it by now if you want me to go through it point by point. I’m not as good at quoting your probabilities, but I think I could do it.”
Five is slightly taken aback. “You said you still had questions.”
“Yeah,” she says. “But not about the details of how we pull this off.”
Five shakes his head, not quite putting this together. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t care about how we do this,” she says. “My whole life, I’ve been able to fill a role when I’m needed, and I fill the role damn well, thank you very much. No matter what it is. I think I can do this.”
“Well, this isn’t a movie part--”
“Five,” Allison says, emphatically now. “I understand the how. But I’m making sure we all still know the why.”
Five stops, cocking his head in confusion. “To stop the Commission, of course.”
“No, that’s the problem,” she says. She gestures toward the papers again. “This isn’t about stopping the Commission or whatever.”
Five is now somewhat vexed. “Then what do you think it’s about?”
“Family,” she says. And she’s thought about this. A lot. “This is about family.”
Five looks at her over the table, feeling like the answer is a bit of a copout. “Well, okay, sure,” Five says. “We all know that. I’m not sure why the distinction matters.”
Allison scoffs. “You keep telling us that the ends are going to justify the means in this one, but if I’m buying into that, then I need to make sure we’re working toward the same end.”
“Either way,” Five argues. “We have to stop the Commission in order to save our family.”
“But if you get down to it, if you know which comes first, then that’ll dictate your decisions,” she says. “And I need to know, if I’m going to be all in with the crazy details you have lined up, that you’ll make the right choice if you have to. If you have to pick between the Commission and the family, you’ll walk away from your vendetta against them and do what you promised us.”
He came prepared for nuance, but here Allison is, presenting it right back. It’s not so much that he doesn’t know any of this; it’s just that he doesn’t often think about it. It’s impossible to deny that you have to make fast decisions, hard decision in the field. And if this goes according to plan, they’ll be his decisions and his decisions alone. There’s an inherent risk putting that much responsibility on one person.
Even if that person is Five.
Maybe especially if that person is Five.
“Everything I’ve done has always been for family,” he reminds her. “You know that.”
“Yeah, but then you went off twice and nearly sold yourself out,” she volleys back.
“To save you!” he says.
“That’s what you’re missing,” she says. “Family includes you. It’s all of us, you and me and Vanya now. I mean, that’s what saved the world, and we finally got it back, the way we want it, and I will not allow anyone to jeopardize that, not even for the best intentions.”
There’s a conviction there that Five actually respects. Allison is unique in this way, probably because she’s been forced to fully understand the difference between the truth and a lie. Five knows he’s got no such luxury. He knows that the years of solitude, his training as a killer -- it muddles the mind. It’s not that Five’s crazy -- he knows exactly what he’s doing -- but it’s that the small things that make sense to everyone else make no sense at all to Five. He’s not got a great sense of time, when you get right down to it, and he still almost recoils every time someone attempts to touch him. He’s curt and says things he shouldn’t, and he tends to forget that the world he’s living in is, in fact, permanent now.
Family is a concept that saved his life. He doesn’t doubt that. This idea that he can save them, that’s the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is now. But family, in a real sense, is more than an emotional crutch. It’s not a vague concept. It’s not theoretical.
There’s a practical side to it, as well.
It’s not a concept to believe in.
It’s a reality to live in.
Five wants to save his family.
His family includes him.
The logic is not one Five carries to its due end as often as he should, and he feels the color rise in his cheeks. Is he embarrassed? Of what? He’s not sure and then he’s also very sure. “This still feels a bit weird to me,” he admits. “Not the most efficient way to go about things.”
Now, Allison is smiling. “One thing I’ve learned as a parent: efficiency is rarely part of the picture.”
“That’s a terrible way to save the world,” Five points out.
“Sure,” she says. “But it’s the only way to save a family.”
Five will admit, she has a point with that.
-o-
Going over the details with Allison is actually somewhat useful.
Going over the details with Klaus, however, is something of an exercise in insanity. You might think that now that Klaus was sober, he was more in control of his faculties. In some circumstances, you might be right. Klaus is increasingly useful in combat. However, that is about the extent of the gains.
He’s still completely impossible in every other context. He’s hardly ever on topic. His contributions are haphazard are best. He’s late, he’s distracted and he tells the worst jokes ever. He never wants to focus, and he still dresses in a way that suggests he doesn’t know how.
After an hour in Klaus room, trying to go over the finer points, Five has made little headway. Klaus, on the other hand, has knitted half a mitten, taken apart half a knitted mitten, dance the macarena, burns an incense candle, made his bed and found (and consumed) half a box of Oreo cookies.
“It’s the sobriety, let me tell you,” Klaus says, wiping crumbs on his bed, which he is in the process of unmaking for no apparent reason. “I’m hungry all the time. And maybe I was before, but I didn’t know it, or maybe it’s just, like, my way of compensating. The body wants something tasty and if it can’t have those chemicals, the ones in Oreos will have to suffice. Did you realize how many chemicals are in these things? I mean, it’s like, a lot!”
Five is listening and he wishes he wouldn’t. He’s been trying hard at this, but he’s at about the end of himself. He’s not sure how to bring Klaus back on point, and he knows his brother cares -- Klaus always cares -- but he’s not sure Klaus is grasping the full reality of what they’re about to undertake. This plan, it’s not for the faint of heart. This plan, it’s not for people to sit around talking about Oreos.
Klaus isn’t useless anymore.
So why does he insist on acting like he is?
“You do realize that what I’m telling you could save your life and my life,” he says. “That if you get this wrong, there probably won’t be any second chances. No more miracles fixes.”
“It’s important, I got it,” Klaus says, flitting his hand through the air. “You go, turn yourself in, yadda, yadda, yadda.”
“The yadda, yadda, yadda is the part where no one dies,” Five reiterates with remarkable control.
“Oh, don’t worry so much, old man!” Klaus grouses. “I know the plan!”
“But do you?” Five asks, not able to hold back the accusation in his voice. “Because I’ve been trying to get you to confirm any part of it for an hour, and all you can do is tell me that Oreos have preservatives.”
“Is that what they’re called?” Klaus asks. “That makes sense--”
Five shakes his head. “I need you to focus! For the love of -- I need you to focus.”
Klaus blinks, shaking his attention back to Five. “Wait. Are you -- are you scared?”
Five sits back, indignant. “No.”
“You are!” Klaus says with undue glee.
“I’m just concerned that you’re not fully grasping your role in this,” Five counters. And he doesn’t sound petulant. He doesn’t.
But Klaus claps his hands in apparent delight. “You’re terrified!”
Five is ready to be done with this. He starts to the door. “This is a waste of valuable time--”
“No, no, Five, come back,” he says, and he gets moderately serious again. “Really. Please, I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
Five hesitates at the door, and he does turn back with a skeptical look at his brother.
Klaus makes a grand gesture. “It’s probably good that you’re scared--”
Five glares at him.
Klaus holds up his hand in apology. “Nervous,” he clarifies. “I mean, this whole thing, it’s crazy, right?”
Five rolls his eyes. “It’s not crazy. It makes total sense, if you’d just read it--”
“Sure, I’m sure, sure,” Klaus says. “Numbers and probabilities -- but I mean, think about it. All this time, you’re still going after the Commission. I thought the apocalypse was your drug, but I think maybe I was wrong.”
With a huff, Five shakes his head. “I have told you before,” he says, seething with barely constrained rage. “I am not an addict.”
“Yeah, as convincing as that is--”
This time, Five turns away again. “I can’t do this with you, not now.”
“Okay, okay!” Klaus calls after him. “I’m sorry! I am! I’m listening!”
More reluctantly this time, Five tuns back around.
“I think you’re misinterpreting what I’m trying to say right now,” Klaus says.
Five purses his lips. “You’re trying to belittle me by telling me that I’m obsessed and therefore what I have to say isn’t as important as whatever the hell you think you’re doing at this moment.”
Klaus opens his mouth, but he closes it when he can’t quite argue. Before Five can turn away again, he lights upon something resembling inspiration. “Maybe, but the point you’re missing is important.”
“What?” Five says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That you’re an idiot?”
Klaus has that look, that look he gets when he’s being real about something, when it’s not all deflection and drama. “It’s just, I don’t know. I mean, I think you shouldn’t try to pretend like you’re not addicted because you clearly are--”
Five is ready to protest, but Klaus persists.
“And maybe that’s not bad,” Klaus finishes rapidly. He shrugs, a little, helpless sort of shrug. Not the kind where you give up. The kind where you’re accepting the inevitable because you’ve finally realized that it is, in fact, inevitable. “I mean, some addictions might actually be okay.”
Five is skeptical of this conclusion. One has to be around Klaus. There’s no part of him that wants to encourage his brother toward anything resembling addiction -- ever. “Addictions are about surrendering control.”
Klaus holds up his hands to show that he gets it, he agrees. “No, no, I get that, I do,” he says. “And trust me, I’m not pretending that my addiction is a good thing -- I mean, fun. It was fun, okay. Because that feeling you get when you’re high and the world is just--”
He cuts off at the severity of Five’s reproachful look.
“But some addictions can, I don’t know, make the world a better place,” Klaus continues, back on point again.”
Five’s eyes are still narrowed, his arms still crossed over his chest, but he doesn’t move any closer to the door. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, I mean, look at the evidence,” Klaus says with another gesture. “Your addiction kept you alive in the apocalypse. Like the actual apocalypse. And then you were able to travel back in time to save us -- to save the world. Your addiction literally saved the world. I mean, mine, if I hadn’t gotten sober? I was part of why it was about to end.”
Klaus has always been capable of unexpected insights at unexpected times. This has only become more pointed now that he’s sober. Five imagines that’s called wisdom, though he would hate to say so and give Klaus an inflated view of himself. His brother can already be insufferable; Five sees no reason to thus encourage him. “Well, if you really think that, then I don’t know why you’re refusing to listen,” Five says, rocking back on his heels and unfurling his arms from across his chest. “These are details that could save all our lives.”
Levering himself up, Klaus makes some show of standing. “I know, I know, and you’re right, you are,” he rambles. “But aren’t you hungry? I mean, I’m so hungry. I think we should eat. Dinner, right? Can we get dinner?”
Five scowls. “But it’s three in the afternoon.”
“And I’m starving,” Klaus informs him, making his way toward him. He grins, as though he expects Five to find him endearing. “Do you like pancakes?”
“Pancakes are a breakfast food,” Five counters.
“Fine, good point,” Klaus says. “Waffles. We get waffles right now or I don’t listen to another word.”
This is not the most efficient way of going about things. It hardly seems like they should have time for this.
It is, however, possibly the better way of going about things. Honestly, this is probably the time to make the time.
Before it runs out entirely.