Chapter Text
Oct 14, 2006. Timeline 0.1
The alarm sounded over everything, piercing through the air and nearly startling Ben off the bed. He scowled, adjusting himself and burying his nose deeper into the book. He couldn’t even focus on the words anymore over the noise.
Outside, Luther straightened at the threshold of his room, already dressed in his suit. Dad eyed him critically before tilting his head into a faint nod.
“Number One,” he instructed, “Gather the children.”
Diego, a room over, bristled as Dad passed him without so much as a look. He rolled his eyes when he noticed that Klaus’ door was still closed and barged in without knocking. Predictably, Klaus was in bed, high out of his mind.
“Come on,” Diego said loudly over the sound of the alarm, “We have to go. Dad said —”
“No, no, no,” Klaus sang, “I’m useless anyway.”
“Klaus —”
“I heard a rumour,” a snide voice said from behind Diego, “That you got up and got dressed.”
As Klaus’ eyes glossed over, Diego spun around angrily, “I had it.”
“Well done, Number Three,” Dad called out, “Good use of your powers.”
“Daddy’s girl,” Diego snarled before pushing past her.
The last of them left was Ben.
(That wasn’t true. The last of them left was little Number Seven, pressed against the wall and watching the proceedings quietly. But no one ever accounted for Number Seven, not when the alarms went off and sometimes, not even when the house was quiet.)
“Hey, Ben,” Luther said, arms crossed and leaning on Ben’s door frame, “Get you ass in gear.”
“No.”
Luther startled. He turned to Diego, who looked just as confused. Klaus was the one they had to drag out of the House, always reliably unreliable. Ben, for all he hated his powers, had always had their back.
“But,” Luther spluttered, “We’ll be one man down.”
“Other than me, I promise to be as useless as always!” Klaus said helpfully, practically draped over Diego’s back, “Has my rebelliousness finally rubbed off on you, the Horror. Weird they call you that when —”
Diego shoved Klaus off him and pointed a knife to Ben. “Get dressed.”
“You’re not in charge, Number Two,” Ben bit back.
Before they could start fighting, Luther turned and called out, “Dad!”
“Narc,” Ben spat, feeling his heart sink.
“Number Six,” Dad barked, “Why aren’t you dressed.”
Ben swallowed. You can do this, he told himself. He tilted his chin up and said, “I’m not going.”
Dad narrowed his eyes.
“Well then,” he said callously, “If you believe yourself not ready to undertake missions, you should have informed me, Number Six. Clearly your training is not sufficient — I shall see to it that we train you harder.”
Ben’s eyes widened, “What? No, that’s not what I said —”
“You don’t need to train more?”
“I don’t need more training,” Ben said, his throat dry with the very thought of it, “Please. I’ll — I’ll go.”
Dad hummed, “Do not dally, Number Six.”
Ben let out a shuddering breath as Dad left. His siblings looked at him with varying levels of sympathy. Klaus reached forward to pat him on the shoulder, misaimed, and almost tripped right into Ben.
“Whatever,” Ben said, “Get out will you?”
The door snapped shut behind them. Ben sat on the bed, stunned for a moment. But then again, was that a surprise? No one won against Reginald Hargreeves.
Ben hated missions.
He had gotten another growth spurt overnight and made a mental note to tell Mom about it. He looked ridiculous enough as it was, he thought, without it looking so stretched on his body. He pulled on his suit with practiced ease, sparing only a glance to the Umbrella Academy logo emboldened on it.
It would be the last time he wore that logo.
Dec 16, 2025. Timeline 4.6
Viktor wasn’t hiding.
He had spent his whole childhood hiding, being small and pressing himself up against wallpapers. He wasn’t hiding anymore — he had never been louder and prouder of himself before.
He was simply … avoiding.
It made sense when he thought of it like that. He wasn’t hiding from his family, just avoiding the drama. Moving to Nova Scotia had simply been necessary, in that regard. And now, he was definitely not hiding from Amy.
He was avoiding her. There was a difference.
“I know he’s here,” Amy yelled, and Viktor attempted to sink further into his seat as if trying to get the newspaper he was reading to engulf him entirely.
This fooled absolutely no one.
“Hey, Vik,” Jerry drawled out, that traitor, “Are you here or not?”
Vik scrambled out from his chair, acting casual. “Hey, Amy,” he said with a smile that was definitely not forced. Maybe he’d even misread the situation.
He had definitely not misread the situation.
As Amy stormed out and the men heckled him, Viktor could only shove his hand into his pockets. They were wrong of course — he’d definitely not blown through all the women in town.
Just half of them.
“Viktor, phone call!”
“Oh thank god,” Viktor mumbled, taking the excuse to get away from the men’s good-natured ribbing.
He pressed the receiver into his ear. “Hello?”
“Hey. Long time.”
A lump formed in Viktor’s throat. “Luther?”
“HEY IS THAT VIKTOR?” a voice screamed on the other end, making Viktor’s lip twitch up.
“And hi, Klaus.”
Luther gave an exaggerated sigh and grumbled something inaudible. To Viktor, he said, “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” and then, with a sinking feeling, “Is something wrong?”
“Just calling to see if you were coming to Grace’s party,” Luther said tentatively, “It’s in two days.”
Viktor knew it was in two days. He kept track of birthdays and called. He just … avoided them, that’s all.
“I really want to,” he said, a practiced excuse, “but, you know, it’s our busy season and —”
The receiver crackled and Viktor cut himself off.
“Blah blah blah,” Klaus’ cheerful voice came on, “You used the same excuse for poor Claire-Bear already. C’mon Viktor, we miss you down here!”
Viktor’s heart twinged. “It’s my bar, I’ve got to be here to watch over things …”
“Excuses!” Klaus said, “And not very good ones either, Viktor. Someone needs to give you lying lessons. Luckily, you have moi as your brother —”
The receiver cackled again and there was a low grunt on the other side and something that was definitely an argument. This time Viktor really did smile as he waited patiently.
“Just come down,” Luther said gently, clearly having won the impromptu fight, “Just this once? Alright?”
“I’ll think about it,” Viktor said and hung up before the receiver could be passed around again.
Getting with the family was always the kind of disaster Viktor would rather avoid. But maybe it would be okay … just this once.
Luther beamed at Klaus. “That went well.”
Klaus flapped his hand and Luther, “Eh, depends on what you think is well.”
“He said he’d come.”
“He said he’d think about it,” Klaus pointed out, “Big difference. Now, are you dropping me off or not?”
“I still think you should come with me to pick Ben up,” Luther said, grabbing his car keys, “He needs all the support he can get.”
“Claire needs me to pick her up. And you can’t leave an eleven-year-old to cross dangerous streets alone and stay in a house full of —" Klaus waved his arms to indicate the multitude of dangers that can be found in a normal suburban home, “ — stuff!”
“Right,” Luther said, rolling his eyes. The elevator dinged and they got on.
“Anyway,” Klaus continued, “I think we should pick up Claire and then go pick up Ben.”
“I don’t think Allison wants her daughter near a prison.”
“And I don’t think you want to be anywhere near Allison.”
Luther spluttered “It’s not like that.”
But the guilt that took over Luther's face proved that he was right. Klaus gave him an annoyingly smug look at that.
“Sure it isn’t,” Klaus said, “We’ll get along super chummy at Grace’s bday party then!”
“She's coming?” Luther asked, alarmed.
“I thought you didn’t mind?” Klaus smirked.
“I don't,” he said quickly, “Usually she’s just … busy.”
“Well if Viktor’s coming she should too!” Klaus clapped his hands, “A big semi-happy semi-sober family reunion! What could go wrong?”
Luther gave him a look.
“It’ll be fiiiine,” Klaus sang out, “Besides, it’s been so long since we were all together.”
Luther brightened, “That’s true.”
Klaus pulled open the door of the passenger seat, immediately putting his feet up on the dash. Luther rolled his eyes at the sight, having long-since given up on even trying to get Klaus to not do that.
It was strange to think that after everything, it was Klaus that stuck by Luther.
Maybe dying together counted for something.
Or maybe, for both of them, this was making up for years of silence between each other. Luther had been … naive, and callous in his naivete about Klaus’ addiction. But the Umbrella Academy was gone now, held together only by the memories of another timeline and Luther’s persistent calls. He wasn’t Number One trying to take care of unreliable Number Four anymore.
He was just Luther, barely scraping by, relying on Klaus who was in the same boat.
Luther shook his head, forcing his thought to somewhere brighter. Ben was getting out of his little stint in prison and it was Luther’s job to lend him his support! Keep the family together, because family was all they had left.
It wasn’t like he had Sloane anymore.
As it turned out, a week and the end of the world didn’t make a relationship. They had a good time, but Sloane wanted to see the world, to live her life outside of her team.
Luther wanted to stay with his family.
Did he make the right choice? He couldn’t tell, between the phone calls that felt increasingly one-sided and the parties that became ever-formal. Maybe he should’ve become an astronaut for real this time, but he’d promise to stop looking away from his family. Promised to stop feeling betrayed.
Klaus turned to him, annoyingly perceptive as always.
“By the way Claire's been asking about what you do for work. How do I explain stripping to a kid …”
“Professional dancer!” Luther snapped, but it got him out of his head instantly.
Klaus laughed and they devolved into easy bickering. Luther dropped him off at Claire’s school before heading towards the prison.
He forced himself to smile when Ben walked out.
Claire hopped over another icy puddle, misaimed, and got Klaus with the water. Klaud gave an exaggerated groan
“Excuse me, missy, do you know the cost of dry cleaning these days?”
“Let it air dry then, it's free,” Claire said cheekily.
“How was school?”
Claire filled the air with chatter. Ben would’ve loved Claire. His Ben, that was.
He tried, he really did, to get on with this Ben but …
It wasn’t the same. The stranger wearing Ben’s face was an asshole through and through, and any connection that Klaus seemed to draw fizzled out soon. After all, his Ben wouldn’t have gotten into Diego-esque vigilante escapades and gotten convicted of a B&E. His Ben would’ve egged Klaus on to do it instead, the asshole.
Well, whatever. His Ben was dead and gone. Klaus had been thriving even without him. Three years sober and living in an actual apartment, with even a bank account! It was weird to think he was roommates with Luther of all people, but life just worked out like that.
His Ben would’ve found the role-reversal ironic, how Klaus was going well while Ben was in prison.
f*ck. He needed to stop thinking about Ben.
Start thinking of his other siblings, maybe. He really was trying to make up for lost time now. Bond with Luther and Allison and Diego (and Lila) — Five and Viktor too, when they were around. He knew it couldn’t have been easy growing up with him as a brother.
(Well, he wasn’t easy to grow up as, but that's besides the point.)
Fortunately, Claire drew his attention before he went down that line of thought.
“And we’re having career day at school,” Claire finished off, “Hey, what do you do Uncle Klaus?”
“I’m er … in between jobs right now,” Klaus said.
As it turned out, spending your twenties high, and then two more years in this new timeline doing the same, left your resume a little lacking no matter how hard you lie on it. And Klaus was simply not to be pinned down — sue him.
Claire squinted at him. “Does that mean you’re unemployed?”
“Exactly that,” Klaus agreed, “When did you get so smart?”
Claire preened and slipped her hand into Klaus’ “And Mom’s an actor … What does Ray do?”
Oh little-girl-on-a-bicycle. What does Ray do? He hadn’t even though he was in Claire’s life anymore after he walked out on Allison.
“I’m not sure.”
“How come Ray doesn’t visit anymore?” Claire pressed on.
“Well … I’m not sure.”
Goddammit, Allison should be here for this. Oh!
“Why don’t you ask your mom about that?” Klaus suggested. And then, immediately, “Do you want hot cocoa?”
Claire lit up.
Crisis averted.
The flashing cameras reminded her of a time long-gone. In her attempts to get her daughter and husband back, she hadn’t really accounted for the fact that she needed to pay her bills. Between being a Hargreeves and having her rumours, that wasn’t something she’d ever had to worry about.
“CUT!”
Allison groaned as the lights came on and she was viscerally reminded of how fake this all was.
“What did I do wrong this time?”
“Nothing. The monitors are down — it’s going to take a while.”
“I have a hard out at twelve,” Allison reminded him.
“You’re sh*tting me.”
“Don’t put this on me, I told Jill I need to go home. I didn’t get a babysitter for my daughter.”
“Get one then,” the director said dismissively.
Allison grit her teeth.
Five minutes later, Allison tapped her feet impatiently. Finally, there was a click.
“Klaus,” Allison said, relieved, “Look, I’m sorry about this but I need to stay longer at the studio today …”
To his credit, Klaus barely flinched, “Alrighty-o. I’ll take care of Claire.”
Allison let her shoulders drop, “Thanks, Klaus. When did you become the responsible one?”
“Hey now don’t go accusing me of such things!” Klaus protested.
“No, seriously Klaus. Thank you.”
Klaus’ voice softened, “Sure thing, Ally-cat. Buuut, I require uno favour.”
“Sure, how much?” Allison asked, then wanted to hit her head on the wall.
“I mean if you’re offering money I’ll take it,” Klaus said, his voice a little tense, “But that’s not it.”
“Right, sorry,” she said quickly.
“Anyway, Grace’s party is in two days.”
Allison straightened, “What about it? Claire is going.”
“I'm asking tou to come! That’s my favour.”
“I don’t think …”
“Come on! Viktor might even come!”
“Even more reason not to go —”
“And Ben’s out,” Klaus continued over her, “A happy family reunion. Luther’s thrilled.”
“They hate me,” Allison said, “It’s going to be awful and awkward and … “
“Oh yeah,” Klaus said, “Sucks for you not for me. You’re coming, then?”
Allison hesitated.
“I’ll … think about it.”
“That’s all I ask, mi hermana.”
They sat in a somber circle, seats pressed far too close together for comfort. Sardonically, he thought they might just start holding hands and singing at this rate.
He resisted the urge to scratch his mustache.
“I’ve been searching for the truth my whole life,” Gus was saying, “Then I found this group … I thought there was something wrong with me, but then I realised — It’s the timeline man!”
Murmurs of agreement. Five swallowed, fascinated. When he’d first come into contact with the Keepers he’d thought they were just come cult. But this …
“Do you have anything to share?” the man beside him asked.
Five leaned forward, looking around at the faces of strangers at the end of their rope.
“My name is Jerome,” he began, ready to go on his pre-prepared spiel.
But …
“What you folks are talking about it real,” he said honestly, “And I know because I’ve been to other timelines.”
Five talked. About his timeline, his age, his story that should've sounded insane to any outsider. He didn't know why he was being honest, but perhaps it was because other than his family, these were the only people who’d believe him.
How the mighty have fallen.
He had been told time and again not to pursue the Keepers. He understood why — the Agency had no use for what they surely thought was the insane ramblings of desperate people. But Five couldn’t let this go:4 this hint that something was wrong. That, like every time he’d even thought to settle, something was coming.
He couldn’t let his obsessions go.
So … the Agency let him go instead.
He was a good enough agent that they were willing to simply suspend him, but things got a little out of hand — at it mote do, with Five’s temper.
He walked out first so really, it all ended on his terms, not theirs.
(There was something about how he’d been told to back off the Keepers so insistently that it rang bells in Five’s head. He didn’t know why, not yet, but he had lived a long life on survival instincts alone.)
After the meeting, there’s a gathering with free food that Five wasn’t passing up. He’d lived under worse conditions than unemployment, which was exactly why he made sure to eat now. It helped to listen in on the conversations, but no one had anything new.
The Cleanse, they talked about. Five had no idea what they were on about.
He had ideas, theories that he formulated and dismissed systematically. He had been on the Keepers for only a few weeks now, but it wasn’t a coincidence that these people were talking about alternate timelines.
Whatever Reginald and Allison had done was unraveling.
No. Might be unraveling. His siblings were out there, living their lives unbothered. He wouldn’t bring a maybe apocalypse to them until he was sure.
This could all just be nothing, in the end.
“Hello, Five.”
Five narrowed his eyes, making an aborted motion to where his gun was — technically he wasn’t supposed to have it still, but better safe than dead. He forced himself to relax.
“Name’s Jerome,” Five said, tapping his name tag. He picked up another donut.
The man smiled and raised his eyebrow, “Sure it is.”
Five squinted at him suspiciously. Once he was sure that his cover was not blown, he said, “Raymond.”
“You can call me Ray, you know,” Raymond Chestnut replied.
Allison’s husband from another time and timeline. How that had worked out, Five had no clue. But the truth was, Five was winging it most of the time — for all that he could narrow down his theories with math, in practice time was a fickle thing. Raymond existed without consequence. The Umbrella Academy nearly destroyed time itself by existing.
That’s just how it went.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” Raymond said mildly.
“What can I say?” Five replied, just as mildly, “Your call piqued my interest, and now I simply can’t resist.”
Raymond said, “These people just think they know something, but they’re harmless. They’re not what I’m worried about.”
“The Cleanse,” Five agreed, “What is it?”
“No idea,” Raymond said, “But I just don’t want to see these people get hurt. They’re just here for support.”
“Well, they’re not the ones calling the shots,” Five narrowed his eyes, “But you know who is.”
Ray worried his lower lip, hesitant.
Five pushed on, “Look, I need to see just how deep this runs. I want to protect the lives my siblings built in this timeline, nothing else. Help me out here, Ray. We’re family.”
“I’m not exactly with Allison anymore.”
“Bound by time then,” Five drawled, “Soulmates, even.”
“Are all you siblings like this?”
He was too polite to call them little sh*ts.
“It runs in the family, yeah.”
Impossibly, Raymond smiled, “I can give you an address.”
Five wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks, Ray. You’re a good person.”
Ray gave him a look that said he knew exactly how much he was bullsh*tting.
Afterwards, Five left the meeting with his stomach filled and his mind predictably working overtime. He walked out into the night, the cold biting against his skin. Mentally he grumbled about how much easier it would be to blink. It felt so pedestrian.
This city needed better parking.
Six years without his powers, and Five still missed them. Being adrift in time for so long had soured that relationship, but he had always relied on his being able to blink more than he realised. His powers had been a constant companion, through time and death. And he'd only just been coming into them.
(Seconds, not decades.)
He stopped at a crossing, hands stuffed into his pocket. The air came out as puffs. His eyes drifted from the red light to the billboard.
KING REG DOUBLE CHEESE BURGERS
The cartoonish face looked just as foreboding as it had in life, perhaps even more so with the goofy smile on his face. Five glared at it, hoping it would spontaneously combust on its own. When it didn’t, he figured that was just how it went with Reginald Hargreeves.
Like all things wrong in life, it was easiest to blame that old man.
He rolled his shoulders, wrenching his eyes away. Focus on the present, he told himself. He thought about the fact that he probably needed to find another job soon. Being fired from the CIA was as inevitable as leaving the time commission. He'd never cared to be tied down like that.
Besides, this Keepers thing was more important.
(You’re obsessed, Number Five, an all too familiar voice said in his head.
A nagging feeling reminded him of how much like Diego he'd become, problems with authority and daddy issues galore. He pushed the pathetic thought away.)
The Keepers. He needed to focus on the Keepers. If something really was coming …
Then Five would do what he has always done. Keep his family safe.
The light turned green and Five started walking again.
He didn’t think there was a single morning that was just quiet anymore. The alarm blared right into his ear and outside, the city was awake and angry about it. The noise seemed to rattle their two-bedroom apartment and all Diego wanted to do was sleep.
“Get up,” Lila said, slapping his arm as she dragged herself out of bed.
“I'm getting I'm getting,” Diego grumbled, burrowing further in his blankets.
“You're not, love,” Lila said, “It's Grace's birthday tomorrow and …”
Diego tuned her out.
It took another ten minutes to drag himself out of bed and put on a pot of coffee, while Lila got Grace ready for the day. He listened to the grind of the machine blankly. He’d given up on trying to get his mind to work without its morning coffee.
“Daddy!” Grace screeched far too loud for this time of day, “G'morning!”
“Morning kiddo,” Diego said, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Are we getting a pinata for tomorrow?”
“What's tomorrow?” Diego asked, grinning widely.
“Daddy!” Grace scolded, “It’s my birthday and we’re having a huuuge party. Bigger than Steven’s.”
“Way bigger than Steven’s,” Lila agreed viciously: like mother, like daughter. “Of course you’re getting a pinata darling. Your dad’s picking it up —”
“What? No,” Diego said, frowning, “ You’re picking it up. I picked up another shift”
“No, you said you'd get the pinata, Diego. I have work too —”
“Your shift ends earlier than mine!”
“No pinata?” Grace asked, eyes welling up.
“Yes pinata,” Lila said quickly. “Just,” she threw her arms up, frustrated, “Whatever. Fine. I’ll pick it up. Diego, drop Grace to school at least.”
“What do you mean ‘at least’?” Diego snapped, “I always do. When have I not done it?”
“I'm not arguing with you,” Lila snapped back, “Have a good day at school, Gracie.”
Diego rolled his eyes and turned to Grace. “Hang on, let me finish my coffee and then —”
“You'll be late!” Lila yelled from the other room.
sh*t. She was right.
What followed was the usual morning routine — rushing to get out the door, trying to get Grace’s shoes on while tying his own laces, almost forgetting Grace’s backpack and then his car keys, the usual. By the time they were stuck in traffick, Diego was certain they’d be late.
“You’re quiet, Gracie,” Diego realised, then felt guilty for not having realised sooner.
He glanced back at the booster seat where Grace was staring out the window.
“You okay?” Diego prompted.
“Dun like it when you argue,” she mumbled.
Diego bit down a grimace, “Sorry kiddo. We'll try not to, okay?”
Sometimes, Diego had no f*cking idea what was happening. Not in the I-wasn’t-paying-attention kind of way, but more in the I-was-carefully-observing-something-inherently-unfathomable kind of way. That must be what parenting was, right? Confusing as hell.
Or maybe he just hasn’t had the right role models. Mom had been programmed to be perfect and Reginald had gone hard on the other end of the spectrum. Diego tried to be like Mom, but her endless patience and bottomless database on what to do when a child didn’t want to eat broccoli was impossible to model.
Point was, Diego had no idea how to make Grace feel better and that was making him feel miserable.
(Sometimes he thought about how lucky Grace was. Diego wasn’t Reginald and had so far done leaps and bounds better than that man. He knew that Lila thought the same about the Handler.
But that bar was practically in hell.)
“We’re here,” Diego said uselessly, “Have a good day at school, okay? I love you.”
“Love you too,” Grace said automatically.
She smiled then. Lila’s smile, but a little lopsided like Diego’s. It settled something in him.
The buildings were as old as the city, built back when they didn’t seem to have concept of alleys. They pressed against each other along the narrow road where, predictably, there was no parking space.
This city needed more parking space, Lila reckoned.
She felt good. Fresh. After spending the morning cursing Diego and screaming in the car where no one good here, she sat in a cafe looking for jobs.
She hadn’t told Diego she’d left her old one.
It wasn’t her fault, really. Lila just wasn’t cut out for stability and god forbid admin. You can’t just put her in an office and expect her to f*cking … smile and comply. Being a wife and mother was hard enough.
She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and resisted the urge to scream at the thought of it.
This wasn’t the life she imagined.
She had wanted a family. She loved Diego and Grace more than anything. God, nowadays she thought of what Allison did for her daughter and understood. She’d never loved and been so loved before. And yet —
Sometimes, she just wanted to drive and not look back.
Slowly, she breathed out as she finally found somewhere to park.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the Keepers were the only thing keeping Lila sane right now. It wasn’t even because she cared about what the poor sods had to say — sometimes it was fun to watch them fumble into what Lila already knew, hear them talk about timelines with awe when she’d become numb to the entire concept.
It was fun. Lila needed something fun to hold on to.
People were already mingling when she arrived. Lila was happy to put her nametag on for the newcomers and talk to old Drew, who was apparently from a timeline where people carried around computers in their pockets. Sometimes, Lila did wonder who was telling the truth and who was genuinely delusional. It didn’t matter in the slightest.
“That’s quite the story,” Lila chattered in her fake southern drawl — playing Nancy really wouldn’t get old.
She glanced at the door as it opened, curious to see newcomers, before turning back to her group. Drew was —
Wait. What the f*ck.
She looked back at the people who’d come in. Ray she knew, though he’d never actually attended a meeting before. And that greek looking guy in the ridiculous mustache … no way.
She glided up to him gracefully and gripped his elbow, “Jerome.”
“Nancy,” Five mocked back in the same tone, “Look at this. An in-laws reunion for me.”
Ray gave her an awkward smile.
“You invited him?” Lila asked Ray, “He’s going to blow my cover and probably turn these people over to the feds.”
“He’s fine,” Ray said, “Besides … you can’t tell me that the Keepers went from being scarily accurate to just being scary since … you know.”
Lila did know.
“Am I supposed to know?” Five asked, annoyed.
“You’ll meet them today,” Ray promised.
“Listen, little sh*t,” Lila hissed, “Do not blow my cover.”
“As long as you don’t blow mine,” Five said, “What are you doing here?”
“Let’s just say that the transition from full-time assassin to admin worker slash mother was no picnic. Besides, this is cheaper than therapy.”
Ray snorted, “Amen to that.”
Five eyed him, “I thought you were doing fine with Allison.”
“Well,” Ray said, his voice clipped, “I suppose that being pulled out of my time and my timeline was a little difficult to adjust too, especially when I realise that my wife went against my specific wishes for me to remain in that time! I had a purpose once, something I fought for and —”
His voice had gone progressively louder. Around them, some had turned to listen.
Drew patted Ray’s arm. “Speak your truth, brother.”
Ray seemed to visibly deflate. He nodded to Drew awkwardly and waited until the man left.
“Gonna get some air,” Ray said, his voice lowered again, “I think they are arriving soon and I don’t fancy being around them. They give me the creeps.”
“Okay, seriously, are they the boogeyman or something?” Five asked as Ray walked off, “I still don’t know their names —”
As if on cue, a voice rang out: “If everyone could take their seats, the presentation is about to begin.”
Lila and Five shuffled into the back row. As if on habit, they were nearest to the exit, the escape route almost a natural observation in their minds. Lila wouldn’t admit it — because she hated Five’s guts, family or not — but she couldn’t help but feel that kinship.
Sometimes, family was two assassins f*cked in the head by the Handler. And time junk, to a lesser extent.
She smiled, thinking about how funny Diego would find it, especially the ridiculous mustache part.
Her smile fell, realising there was no way he’d know.
Lila wasn’t telling him about the Keepers.
They share their lives. They have a joint bank account. They have the same family, the same friends, the same f*cking doctor. It was so cute and couple-y and more than once someone had mentioned it. She just … she needed this for herself.
The lights dimmed.
Lila settled in for the show.
“Wow!”
Five startled, though he hid it well. It was simply not what he’d expected. Ray and Lila had tiptoed around them as though they were monsters. He hadn’t expected the two relatively normal couple that walked on stage.
“Wowie,” the woman continued, “Look at all these faces! Thank you for being here tonight. Tonight is special because we will be discussing … the Umbrella Effect.”
Five’s breath hitched.
“And how I believe we can return to a restored and correct timeline.”
There was very little that could surprise Five anymore. But it wasn’t just the fact that these two people showed solid proof of what Five had already begun suspecting — that people from the other timeline had retained some of their memories, and anomalies were cropping up everywhere. That was why Five had been so interested in monitoring the Keepers in the first place.
No. What worried Five was them.
“Who are they?” Five hissed to Lila as soon as the presentation was over.
“Gene and Jene Thibedeau,” Lila said, her eyes alight with childish excitement, “They started the first chapter in New Mexico. The Keepers is basically their baby — they’ve studied every anomaly, gathered every piece of evidence, learned all they could about the timelines. But they won’t stop there.”
“The Cleanse,” Five guessed, “But what is it?”
“Dunno really,” Lila admitted, “It’s some cataclysmic event, apparently. No one knows what it looks like, but once it comes, everyone will know — you know, the typical cult bullsh*t.”
Five frowned, “This could be dangerous, Lila.”
“What, more dangerous than merging timelines against all the protocol that’s been drilled into us in the Commission?” Lila scoffed, “This timeline’s been held together by duct tape and tears for six years, but it’s held.”
Five wanted to point out that that was a weak argument, but there was truth in it. Nothing had happened yet. If Five were to believe the Thibedeaus, these anomalies have been happening since the conception of this timeline, but nothing had really given him a reason to believe it was a problem.
What made him worried was the Thibedeaus themselves. That feverish devotion, the hunger in them, hidden just behind their pleasant smile.
“Anyway,” Lila said, “Want a drink?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Let’s go find Ray,” Lila said, “I know what it’s like being married to a Hargreeves. Gotta give him a shoulder to lean on, you know?”
Five snorted, “I’m not sure I fit the theme of the evening.”
“You can give us advice, old man,” Lila pointed out, “Klaus told me about your long and very successful relationship with Dolores.”
The mention of Dolores made him soften long enough for Lila to drag him away.
The big lug was dragging him around department stores for the better part of the day. He had that stupid hopeful smile on his face, which had only fallen once when Klaus said that he wasn’t going to join the two of them. And thank god for that — Ben didn’t think he could handle Luther and Klaus in one go.
“Grace might like dolls, right?” Luther fussed, “But is that playing into gender norms?”
“Jesus f*cking Christ, pick something,” Ben snapped.
A mother with a strolled gave him a scandelised look. Ben was only semi-apologetic — she’d start swearing too if she was stuck with Luther’s indecisiveness. Seriously, how hard was it to just pick a kid’s birthday gift? Slip them a gift card and be done with it.
“A book?” Luther wondered, “But what if …”
“Okay,” Ben said, finally giving up, “I’m done.”
He ignored Luther’s cry of, “This has to be from both of us!” and stormed out, jamming his earbuds on and flicking through the music on his walkman. Only a day out of prison and he almost wanted to go back. At least there he didn’t have to deal with Luther’s incessant hovering.
They were not family.
How hard was that for them to understand?
Ben’s never had a family. He's had a team for a long time, and with enough alcohol and the high of a good mission, they convinced themselves they could be family. But they were all dead now. Sloane and Ben had tried, this time, but it just didn’t work out.
The Umbrella Academy, on the other hand, were definitely not family. They were just a dysfunction mess parading around with their stupid sympathy and —
Ben grit his teeth and turned up the music.
There’s this feeling he’s missing something, a hole in his chest someone curved out. Ben had never liked the Horror, the monster that lived within, but he had spent a lifetime learning to control it. He had survived where the other Ben hadn’t — that had to count for something.
If only he could get his powers back.
“HELP!” a voice shrieked.
Ben yanked his earphones off, already running. Finally, he thought, something to do. This was what Ben was made for — saving people.
He ran into the alleyway where the scream had come from. A woman, sobbing, looked up at him.
“What happened?” he demanded to know.
“The stole my purse —”
“Stay there!”
Ben was off towards where she pointed without even letting her finish. He saw his target immediately and pursued.
He was a superhero once. Someone important, someone people looked up to. Just because he didn't have a name — anything to his name — didn't stop him from being a hero.
It wasn’t his fault the police didn't understand that. He'd only broken into the house because he thought someone needed help! And they'd given him six months for it?
Idiots.
The man who’d stolen the woman's purse turned a corner. A childhood spent training had made Ben faster. Still, this would’ve been so much easier with his powers.
“Hey, asshole!” Ben yelled, catching the man's attention.
Two minutes later, Ben had punched the guys lights out, gotten the purse and was back in the alley the woman had been.
It was empty.
Ben frowned, having at least expected the woman to have called the police. But she was gone. It hadn't even been five minutes.
He looked down at the purse.
Was it … glowing?
Without much thought — as if compelled by something — Ben reached into the bag. His hand hit glass and impossibly, the glow got brighter.
“Holy sh*t.”
Ben pulled out a jar full of Marigold.
“Looks like he took bait.”
“Well, we were told he had a hero complex.”
Gene lowered his binoculars, turning to his wife, “Then this means …”
“Yes, Gene,” Jean smiled, “The Cleanse can begin.”
Gene Thibedeau was usually a mellow man, but the grin that stole his face was nothing short of manic. Three years spent hunting down the source of the Cleanse — longer for Jean — and here they were, the final stretch. They’d been laughed out of every elitist academic circle, their work called a joke, but soon they would be proven right.
There was much to do, and much time to do it. No need to rush. The Cleanse knew no deadline, existing only as an inevitability.
“A toast, then,” Gene said, raising his glass of pure white alpaca milk, “To the end of this timeline.”
Jean giggled, raising her own, “And to the restoration of another.”
