#finished the umbrella academy and was thinking about Diego's reaction to patch's murder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nobody-wants-ice-cream · 4 years

Text

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 8, I Heard a Rumor.

This episode is particularly brutal. Warnings include child abuse, domestic abuse, suicide, rape, gore, and manipulation. Keep yourself safe.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Man on the Moon

Number Five

The Day That Wasn’t

The Day That Was

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. So most of the things that I sin, I am seeing for the first time.

Also, no I can’t do better. I am in no way qualified to give this level of criticism about anything. I am not taking this seriously. At all.

I Heard a Rumor

Stormy Weather by Etta James. I adore this song. When I first watched the show I was so happy when this song came on.-1

I am also taking a sin off for the Emmy Raver-Lampman version -1

It looks like Allison genuinely adores her daughter. And Claire’s bedroom? I would want to have that room now and I am at least ten years older than her. -1

Speaking of, how old is Claire? Sin until we have answers. +1

The animations for the story of The Umbrella Academy defeating the robbers at the museum. -2

“While your Uncle Klaus got a little distracted.” What did Klaus do on missions again? +1

Allison carefully censors the mission so she is still telling the truth but doesn’t actually say that Diego used knives or that Ben used the horror to (presumably, we don’t know how much control Ben had) kill four people. Good job. See Reggie, this is how you don’t traumatise your kid with violence. -1

“Their leader.” Looks suspiciously like a villain from the comics. -1

“I wanna hear the one about the Eiffel tower.” Me too, Claire. Especially since the magazine clips we see suggest Five was there this time. -1

Mind control. ON A CHILD. This is what bothers me the most about Allison as a character and I am glad that she is moving past it. However, in no universe can I let this go. Depending on how Allison used it, Claire’s emotional control could be fucked for life. +40

Patrick behaves like a rational human being and doesn’t blow up at Allison for this in front of their child. He also divorces her in order to keep said child safe. Good. -1

“I heard a rumor you love me.” Who did she say this to? It doesn’t matter who, it’s still disturbing, but oh dear God who did she say this to? I think this is the second most fucked up thing we hear Allison say after the rumoring Claire scene. +10

Allison is going 120 kmh, or 75 mph, in the rain. If you have ever driven a car in the rain then you know exactly why I am sinning this. For those who don’t know, google hydroplaning. Allison could have died here very, very easily. +3

Title screen on a billboard! I forgot how cool the episode 8 title screen was. -1

Allison doesn’t bring her proof with her when going to confront Vanya, who has been shown to be irrational when it comes to Leonard. +1

Bird jumpscare. +1

“They want me to come back tomorrow be fitted for a prosthetic eye”. Leonard places emphasis on the words “prosthetic eye” to remind the viewers that Leonard is bad news. Good acting choice. -1

Leonard’s clothes look freshly bloody when the blood should be several hours old and therefore a more rusty brown color than a bright red. I think. I don’t know if that’s how it works with such large amounts of blood. +1

Luther’s bed is now magically big enough to fit both him and the rave girl. +1

Luther’s reaction to the rave girl. Rewatch this scene to get such a laugh at Luther’s face. -1

How out of it was Luther vs the rave girl? Consent issues on both sides. +3

Luther treated the rave girl to some wine? Or cranberry juice? How thoughtful. -1

I really, really hope they were safe though. There is no evidence to imply they were safe. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you’re too young to be watching TUA). +1

Klaus is such a little shit. “Wakey wakey! Eggs and bakey!” while ringing the bell. Peak sibling culture is doing this sort of thing while knowing that the other sibling is NOT going to appreciate it. Also, Klaus deserves his revenge after last night. -1

The little wave the rave girl gives Klaus. -1

Go back and watch this scene. Holy shit this is so underrated. This is the funniest thing ever. -1

“He popped his cherry! Now you’re gonna have to marry her” -4

Klaus doesn’t remember his first time. Consent issues. +3

“No dilly-dallying, alright?” I love Klaus. -1

Klaus makes french press coffee for Luther and Ben. Klaus is a good brother. -1

I would kill to see Ben’s reaction to Luther and the rave girl. +1

Five snatches Luther’s coffee and not Ben’s, ya know, the guy who can’t drink the coffee. And is invisible. Five is a dick to Luther or Five wanted to be a little shit to Luther after having to hear him and the rave girl. Either way, +1

He steals the coffee and he complains about it. +1

Ben! -1

“This is a bad idea” no shit. +1

The awkward pauses where Ben is presumably speaking don’t make sense here. +1

The camera trickery used to make Luther look like a giant compared to Five. -1

Five knows where the aspirin is “top shelf next to the crackers” because he was also hungover. I think. I can’t remember if FIve stopped back at the house, but presumably he and Luther had to go there to get the car. -1

Luther still isn’t getting up to get the aspirin even though he can listen just fine while getting it. +1

Ben adding to the dramatic tension of the scene in a uniquely humorous way that only this show can pull off. -2

Luther doesn’t believe Klaus about Reggie’s suicide. What reason would Klaus have to lie about this, Luther? +1

Five believes him right away. -1

Convenient Pogo backing up Klaus is convenient. +1

This has nothing to do with this very dramatic and important scene, but the mismatched chairs, while cute, don’t appear in any other scene. +1

Five calls Reggie a “sick bastard” under his breath. That’s one way to describe him. -1

Pogo kept this secret for a long time. Not telling the kids was a strange choice and I’m not sure why Pogo made it. On one hand, he would be respecting the wishes of his creator and friend but on the other he would be helping these people come to terms with their father’s death. Pogo’s character motivations are strange and I don’t understand them. +1

Luther said it best, “there’s always choice.” +1

Random thought I had, where was Harold’s grandmother when he was being abused and then going to jail because he killed his abuser? +1

Leonard says some nice things in this scene. If we didn’t know how manipulative he was I would give him credit for this line. +1

Agnes looks adorable out of the Griddy’s uniform. Costume/hair people, you did good. -1

Agnes keeps saying things like “we aren’t in a rush” and talking about seeing three years worth of stops to remind us that there is no time. Hazel looks heartbroken by it. -1

Allison abandons her vehicle. Do not take driving advice from The Umbrella Academy, ever! +1

Allison sees a random scarf from several cars away and immediately connects it with Vanya. Does she also have super sight? +1

The first time we see Allison get recognized by a random stranger for her acting is eight episodes in. +1

Cheddar (the cop Allison is talking to) is so enamored by Allison that he stops doing his job correctly. +1

“Jackpine cove” who named these towns? +1

Allison and Five have the same little shrug when they finish telling terrible lies. -1

Allison is a terrible liar. +1

Diego is still in jail. They’re talking about transferring him upstate. This is really bad news. +1

“Did she use that word? Contentious?” The definitions of contentious all say the word argument. Beeman says that Diego and Patch had an argumentative relationship. This matters to Diego. Why? +1

This conversation was written by someone who doesn’t understand the connotation of the word contentious. +1

Beeman encourages Diego to escape and go on the run. Are all the cops incompitent on this show? You have Patch, who hasn’t pinned Diego for obstruction of justice despite the show implying that Diego has touched evidence he wasn’t supposed to many times, Cheddar, who is so distracted by Allison freakin’ Hargreeves that he forgets that taking her along to a murder case is unethical at best, and Beeman who straight up encourages Diego to escape from jail. That last one is definitely illegal. +10

The parallel between Five and Leonard reading something they aren’t supposed to have in the bathroom. Both the apocalypse file and the journal are red, too. This means something but I don’t have the analysis skills to really go into it. If anyone wants to take a crack at it, go ahead. Sin removed because I know this is smart even if I can’t figure out why.-1

Vanya’s training implies that Reggie has been training these kids hard since they were at least four years old. +7

Current Sin Count: 73

Reggie doesn’t praise Vanya for breaking the glass, he just demands that she does it again. Say it with me now, Reggie is a dick. +1

Leonard straight up uses the word extraordinary. Sigh. +1

The description for how Vanya’s powers work (concentrate on a constant sound until that’s all you can hear and then use an emotional connection to target) is surprisingly good. This is the best description of somebody’s powers we’ve ever gotten in this show. -1

Klaus is attempting to get the yarn on the needle and failing miserably. This is one of the simpler, if tedious, things we do in knitting. Therefore, it is completely understandable how a beginner can’t make heads or tails of it. -1

Five is still injured. The old man walk gives it away. +1

Five treats Klaus like a second in command. I want more of this duo. -1

“So how’d the crazy bastard actually know to kill himself a week before the end of the world?” We would all like to know the answer to that question. Five would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

“Don’t answer, that was purely rhetorical.” Nice cop out, show. +1

Reggie used The Apocalypse to make his kids do the dishes. Checks out. +1

Five and Klaus bond over hating doing the dishes and the person making them do the dishes. Sibling culture. -1

“Where have you been?” “Jail. Long story.” The looks on Klaus and Five’s faces! -2

Vanya breaks the monocle. Good job, kid. However, if you know the comics then you know why I am mildly concerned about this. -1

“That will conclude your training for the time being.” Meaning the next 25 years. Reggie, you suck. +1

Now Vanya’s powers are a bit more vague and imply that she has super hearing. +1

Leonard’s training routine actually includes some praise, which is a step up from Reggie. However, a step up from Reggie is still someplace in hell, so it’s still a sin. +1

It’s also a sin because it’s uncontrolled and Vanya is afraid of it, yet Leonard keeps pushing her. +1

Leonard uses the kind of language Reggie would use to describe Vanya’s powers. Checks out because he read Reggie’s book and is using his ideas to train Vanya. +1

Helen Cho’s missing person poster reminds the viewer that Leonard is bad news. +1

Vanya plays for the St. Pluvium Chamber Orchestra. First of all, no they have a conductor. +1

Second of all, “Pluvium” means of or relating to rain. The Umbrella Academy fights against the leader of the rain orchestra in episode 10. Who came up with that pun? That is absolutely hilarious. -1

Based on a post by @seven-valid-libras I think Griddy’s is across the street from this bar? I am not 100% sure. If it is then that’s a sin off because Agnes definitely has a bunch of drunk people coming in for doughnuts every now and then. I lowkey want to write this fic. -1

“Maybe they’ll brood each other to death” Is this a reference to the fact that Luther and Diego were both too emo for umbrellas in episode 1? -1

I feel so bad for Luther right now. Reggie really fucked with his head. +1

After hearing that Vanya’s boyfriend is a convicted murderer, Luther is more concerned for Allison than he is for Vanya. +1

Diego’s face when Luther says “you should have led with that!” [the fact that Allison went after a convicted murderer alone] -1

Luther is right. Diego should have led with that. +1

Luther breaks the door in his rush to get out of the bar. Checks out. -1

Mary J. Blige. -1

The shop is closing because Agnes is leaving? Who owns Griddy’s? +1

And if the shop is closing, then why leave doughnuts on the shelf? Are they gifts for the other waitresses who are now out of a job? +1

Agnes keeps a flamingo (presumably, scented) candle in a bakery. +1

Cha Cha was way too close to that explosion to not get some scratches at the very least. +1

Sergeant Cheddar is letting Allison stay in the room while he interrogates Mr. Luntz (the man that survived Vanya’s powers). +1

What kind of person allows themselves to be hired by some guy in order to beat him up in front of his girlfriend? Who does that? Are there people like that who exist in real life? +1

Allison doesn’t get pissed off when Luntz says that they started to hurt the girl (Vanya) too. +1

Sgt. Cheddar finally gets pissed off with Allison after she starts leading Luntz. This took way too long. +1

“What I really need to do is practice,” said every musician ever. Including me. As I’m typing this I’m putting off practicing. Vanya is calling me out. I deserve it. +1

Also, Vanya just got first chair and so far she still hasn’t learned the solo the day before the concert. That is such a mood. -1

The cracks in Leonard’s personality are finally starting to show. If Harold was smart he would let Vanya do this without attempting to manipulate her into more practice. +1

Vanya left her violin propped up in the middle of a sofa. That is a broken violin waiting to happen. +1

Where is her rosin? Don’t tell me she reuses the same rosin and doesn’t clean her instrument. Please. +2

Leonard doesn’t tell Vanya where he will be going. He just sort of leaves without a note. This would be fine if this universe had cell phones, but it doesn’t. Leonard is a dick. +1

Agnes would like to spend her (Hazel tells her it’s hypothetical but we know it’s not) last two days on Earth with Hazel. That is so sweet. But also, they met less than a week ago. +1

This is the turning point that makes Hazel an active character that wants to stop the apocalypse. Finally some character motivation that makes sense! Whoop! -1

They Call Me a Fool by Damon is another one of my favorites from the soundtrack. What can I say, I’m a sucker for jazz. -1

There is a parallel between Five leaving Vanya’s apartment and Leonard leaving her at the cabin. Her brother (whom I assume she loves) and the man she is infatuated with both leave her at some point without warning. The people who Vanya loves keep leaving her. +2

Vanya puts her violin down on a chair and lets the bow fall. Bows are expensive. +1

“I made a secret place just for you. None of your siblings get to play there.” Of course Reggie is framing it this way. He’s scared of her. +1

The further away from Pogo the camera is, the less real he looks. +1

Reggie and Pogo locked Vanya in this cage. +1

Vanya’s violin bow fell down but in the next shot it’s propped on the chair. +1

Sgt. Cheddar tells Allison to stay put but has no way to verify that she actually will. Also, if he’s such a fan then shouldn’t he know that she used to be a superhero? +1

Allison kept her proof about Leonard/Harold in the car again. +1

“I love you. And I wanna be here for you as your sister.” -1

“I love him.” Vanya you met him less than a week ago. +2

If there was ever a wrong time to bring up the fact that you took Vanya’s powers away and left her with a horribly low self esteem due to the poorly worded “I heard a rumor that you think you’re just ordinary”, it would be now! Now is the wrong time to bring this up! +10

Reggie used Allison to make Vanya powerless. Reggie is a dick. An absolute bastard. A complete scumbag. Etc. +20

Reggie has also been drugging Vanya since she was FOUR YEARS OLD. +50

Insert Reggie insults here. Feel free to come up with your own in the tags. Fuck this guy repeatedly with a rusty chainsaw. +20

Vanya is not in the right state of mind to understand that Reggie is the one that made Allison rumor her. +1

The final fight between Allison and Vanya is heartbreaking. Emmy Raver-Lampman and Ellen Page are excellent actresses. -5

Vanya’s skin keeps getting paler and paler. Foreshadowing. -1

This is the only time Allison attempts to use her powers in the show. To save her life. I would say that it is pretty justified. -1

Violin bows are not sharp enough to cut human flesh. Is this another part of Vanya’s power? +1

Gore warning! This is super fucked. Not gonna lie, I gag a little every time I see this.+4

Vanya is freaking out and then Leonard walks in. Vanya’s mental state is completely out the window at this point. +4

Leonard manhandles Vanya into letting her sister die (as far as they know) on the floor of the cabin. +10

Allison has definitely lost enough blood to kill her, yet she survives this. +1

Leonard went out to kill Luntz. +10

Nobody in the car (Five driving, Klaus shotgun, Luther and Diego in the back) is wearing a seatbelt. +1

Also, of these four people, Five is the most qualified to drive right now? Diego is sitting right there! And we saw Klaus drive the ice cream truck! Luther would have some trouble driving because he’s so large. But really?? +2

“Can you go any faster?” “Ask me again and I’ll burn you with the cigarette lighter.” The comic relief doesn’t really land here because the scene before was so dramatic and the music is still playing. To change the mood, the song would also have to change. +2

Independently, that is a pretty funny Grandpa Five line. -1

Including Ben in the scene where they find Allison bleeding out on the floor is a subtle reminder to the audience that if Allison was dead, Klaus would be able to see her ghost. The lack of a ghost means she is still alive. +1

Also, this scene has all the original members of The Umbrella Academy in it. Look how far they’ve come from the bank robbery. +6

No one is checking for a pulse right now. They’re just assuming that Allison is dead. +10

Overall Review: It goes without saying that this episode is fucking brutal. When I first watched it I had to stop and go do something else for a while because of the rumor reveal and the throat thing. That was really, really concerning. Props to Emmy Raver-Lampman. She fucking killed it this episode. If anyone was wondering if she was a good actress (ya know because of all the “come look at this” lines she kept getting) then this episode made it very clear that she can act and she does it very, very well.

So, Vanya’s sanity is out the window, Allison is down for the count, and no one cares about the apocalypse right now. That last one is understandable because of Allison’s situation, but damn it really isn’t looking good for the Hargreeves siblings.

Also, I want to talk about something. This is the last episode in which Allison and Vanya are both capable of speech. And in the eight hours we have known these two women, they have had multiple conversations. All of them have been about a man. Their brothers, their father, Patrick, or Leonard/Harold. Seriously, the two women in this show that are main characters never have a conversation that isn’t about a man. There is no excuse. With the fridging and this, you have to wonder if the writers on this show hate women or something? I don’t normally add sins post analysis, but I think I will make an exception for this one. +100

Total: 283

Sentence: Serious gore.

#The Umbrella Academy #all in good fun #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #leonard peabody #harold jenkins #show warnings apply #this episode is brutal

77 notes · View notes

dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

Little Tyrants, Chapter One: Hearing Voices

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Vanya was four, Reginald Hargreeves visited her cell. But not to take her powers away. Just to let her know he could. Just to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her powers were a privilege he could rescind should she ever choose not to fall in line.

Years later, the old man is dead—and the last sibling Vanya wants to see has reappeared in the Academy courtyard.

This work is also available on AO3.

Author’s Note: If you’d like to read the asks that inspired this story, you can find them here and here. Follow-up asks can be found under the tags “vanya keeps her powers au” and “five returns as a kid au.”

The prologue can be found here.

*******

You are the king of an island of one All alone in a world that lost its only black sun You are the king of an island of one Little tyrant soon to come undone All hail the king. —Anberlin, “Little Tyrants”

His death made the news.

That came as no surprise whatsoever. Sir Reginald Hargreeves was known the world over, though it had never been clear if this was by accident or by design. Perhaps he had chased the spotlight only to spurn its advances and make those behind it all the more curious. Perhaps he had simply used the cover of secrecy to do what he’d always liked and left the world to salivate over every scrap of news that managed to escape that mansion.

Or perhaps he had known from the beginning what the world would think of his methods and had hidden them behind a wrought-iron fence and expertly packaged lies.

“…found dead in his mansion earlier this afternoon.”

Vanya clutched the strap of her violin case. She wasn’t the only one there, not by far. Bars like this tended to be most crowded on the weekends, but that didn’t mean they stood vacant the rest of the week. This seemed to be one of those that attracted a range of people close to her age, provided they liked cigarette smoke and fried food alongside a dizzying array of beverages. Others like her, who had seen Sir Reginald’s face pop up on this screen or that and had needed to hear the report rather than watch it, formed the bulk of the crowd.

“His death appears to have been natural, although authorities will still perform a thorough autopsy to rule out foul play.”

Vanya sniffed. If murder had ended him, the police would have known as much at first glance. She’d lost count of all the criminals she and her siblings had put away over the years, but she’d be damned if Dad hadn’t. Any one of them would have been honored to have finished him off, and any one of them would have left some sort of calling card, be it an artistic fatal wound or a message scratched in blood.

“Although most well-known as the founder of the Umbrella Academy, Sir Reginald Hargreeves will be remembered as a globetrotting man of mystery who appreciated his privacy as much as he appreciated making our world a safer place.”

She could have made the entire bar tremble at that. Shake the plates, rattle the glasses, send bottles crashing against each other as their contents formed a dirt-laced cocktail on the tile. Watch heads swivel this way and that as their search for what caused the tumult became a search for who and—finally, a search for why. Maybe she’d answer. Maybe she’d simply turn on her heel and stride off into the night. Six months ago, her reaction to the chaos would have been her one and only concern.

Six months ago, she didn’t have the courts breathing down her neck.

Vanya elbowed her way through the throng of impromptu mourners. Those that knew her on sight stepped as far aside as the small space would allow; those that didn’t stared transfixed as the reporter repeated the few details he’d been given. No one tried to stop her. No one put a hand on her arm and offered a few canned words of comfort, or asked a question she couldn’t answer. One way or another, they simply moved aside until she’d pushed the door open and stepped out into the chill. She tugged a long breath into her lungs, scarcely noticing the lack of cigarette smoke.

Dad was dead.

It should have been expected; he’d sported white hair and wrinkles for as long as she could remember. But he’d remained spry up to the moment she’d left, and every moment after as far as she could tell. Keen enough to recognize any tune he didn’t like and quash it accordingly. Quick enough to identify everything she’d done wrong on a mission before she’d caught her breath. Strong enough to leave bruises ringing her wrists if her words or deeds failed to please him.

“You know how easily I can bring this to an end, Number Seven.”

Her next breath tore itself from her throat. She grasped instinctively at the noises around her—a group of friends chattering, cars gliding by on the street beside—wanting, needing to throw it toward the brick wall of the bar, watch dust and debris shower to the sidewalk and drive Dad’s voice from her mind.

Prison time.

She held to the sound, but couldn’t bring herself to release it. Not yet. There was power in that noise, and she wasn’t ready to be defenseless. Those words, those two words that had been repeated far too often since the incident—they kept the sound where it was. Like a rock in her hand, it remained motionless, awaiting the transformation she would grant.

Prison time. Prison. You could go to prison.

Vanya let the sound go, feeling it slide from her grasp like a leash towed along by an unruly dog. She sucked in another breath, and another. Her first steps away from the bar staggered a bit, but she steadied herself and walked on. When the nearest bus stop came in sight, she took a turn to the left and set off for the next one.

Dad was dead.

The thought didn’t bring a rush of sorrow or regret or any of the other things therapists said were normal to feel when a loved one passed on. Of course, calling Dad a loved one was less a stretch and more a blatant lie, but that thought roused none of the approved emotions, either. She pictured him lying in a coffin, hands folded over his chest and felt nothing. He was dead. Gone. Beyond even Klaus’ reach, unless his latest stint in rehab had worked a miracle. The fact brought no more sorrow than knowing that Paris was the capital of France.

“Perhaps for our next mission, you can stand beside me and watch as your siblings fight alone.”

Vanya quickened her step, drawing a long breath of the cold air. The bus stop stood just ahead, and it was empty. She sat on the bench so quickly it creaked beneath her weight, her violin case sending out a loud crack as it collided. A quick check revealed no damage to case or instrument, and she snapped the case closed before the temptation to play overwhelmed her better judgment.

“Is this what you would have me do, Number Seven?”

Dad was dead. She’d never hear that voice again. Never be called Number Seven again.

Her grip on the violin case tightened, turning her knuckles white. That voice had fallen silent, the man who owned it gone from the world. It would never find her again.

The street was far from noiseless this time of night. A group of boys—high schoolers, from the look of it—approached from her left, nudging each other and laughing loudly. To her right a car’s engine was shut off and a door slammed. Other vehicles ambled by on the street in front of the bus shelter; footsteps sounded behind it. Sound surrounded her, and each one called for her to take it in her grip and make it live, to tear down the shelter, crack the sidewalk, soothe her fury through the fleeting peace of destruction.

Vanya stood so abruptly her violin case nearly spilled from her lap. Her apartment was a good thirty-minute walk from this stop, but she couldn’t escape that voice if she remained still.

*********

Five should have buried them properly.

He’d covered them with earth, bringing it in by the shovelful when he needed more to cover them completely. He’d patted it down, making each makeshift plot look as even as possible. He’d found enough small shards of rubble to mark where they lay. One for Luther. Two for Diego. Three for Allison. Four for Klaus.

They’d been half-submerged in the rubble of the Academy when he found them, skin and clothes brushed with a layer of dust and pocked with cuts and bruises. He’d tried to move Luther first, taking his twin’s cold hands in his and tugging with all his might, nudging or tossing some of the debris pinning him down out of the way when those efforts failed.

He’d ended with his hands pressed against a wall, trying to gulp enough air to sustain his tears.

The smoke was more or less gone now. Five wasn’t sure if the whiffs he caught now and then were remnants or memory, but he’d come to accept them. Like the ache that always pressed against his head from all sides, or the weariness that clung to every limb, it was just a part of life after the end.

Five set the fourth stone on Klaus’ grave, nudging it until it formed a small circle with the other three. These looked much nicer than the rubble he’d used before, adding a tiny patch of color to the ash. Flowers would have looked even better, but most plants had been hard to come by. This handful of colored rocks would have to do.

He stood, battling a wash of dizziness. Ben wasn’t buried in the Academy, and neither was Vanya. If they had simply been out and about when the Academy fell, chances were they’d been trapped by another fallen building or caught in one of those fires that seemed to have overtaken the entire city. If Dad had sent them on a mission prior to the end, they could quite possibly be alive and well on the other side of the world.

The image of that charred body, lying prone just beyond his field of vision, burst into his thoughts.

Five sucked in a breath, willing it not to shake. Skin burned beyond recognition. Clothes nearly gone, the few tatters remaining stripped of color. He hadn’t looked longer than the few seconds it took to process what he was seeing, but the body was too far gone to make out any distinguishing features or other clues as to its identity. If it belonged to an outsider, he couldn’t say how they had found their way into the Academy before the world burned. And if it belonged to family….

He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes against the image of Vanya shouting in fury as furniture trembled and walls cracked. She hadn’t been there when the Academy fell. Dad, for whatever reason, had sent her and Ben alone on a mission.

They were still there, those remains. He hadn’t buried them. With no way to know whose they were, he couldn’t say whether they belonged in the Academy with his siblings or if they belonged elsewhere in the city.

A breeze ruffled his hair, stale wind carrying a smell he couldn’t identify and a sound that might have been cracking char, burned limbs twitching, ruined head turning toward him, nonexistent lips parting to say—

Five scrambled for the edge of the rubble and bolted for the gate. There was no reason to take it, the fence surrounding it having long since collapsed, but he dodged a pile of brick and darted through.

“Five….”

The voice was cracked, hoarse as though from a long illness or years of disuse, but he’d recognize it anywhere. He’d heard it often enough, screaming for what he’d done in her room or what he’d said or just for being in the kitchen when she wanted it to herself.

“Don’t you dare run from me…”

Five’s lungs already burned. His legs threatened to buckle. He had to keep running, but he’d collapse before he was far enough for that voice, for its owner, to catch up with him.

He had to jump.

He hadn’t jumped since landing here, in a world reduced to ash and cinders. If a jump through time took him to the end of everything, a spatial jump might take him to the middle of a ravine.

“I know where you….”

Five held the destination in his mind. Not the library, but a street close by, a street ruined by whoever—whatever—had struck the final blow. There was a little house on it, one that hadn’t collapsed entirely. Its front was brick and the rest was white vinyl siding, with a little iron sign by what had been the sidewalk bearing the surname of the home’s former owners. He pictured that house. Thought of it. Imagined standing out front, studying the ash-stained brick and blackened siding, his foot inches from the fallen sign.

And then he jumped.

The darkness cleared and he tumbled to his knees. Breath snagged on his parched throat and he coughed. His knees gave way; he fell forward, supporting his weight on arms that protested the strain. Still the coughs kept coming, tearing at his throat as he dropped to his side, pressing against his chest until he thought the pain alone might send him into blackness.

But he was still conscious when they cleared.

Five kept his eyes closed, hugging his knees against the lingering pain. Nothing seemed to be broken, and the ground he lay on seemed steady enough, lacking any of the sharp rocks or rubble he’d half-expected to find. But he’d see it all the moment he opened his eyes. He’d be inches from the edge of a rooftop, feet from the den of a coyote or some other starving animal.

He opened his eyes.

Asphalt greeted him. Inches from his nose was the edge of an iron sign. He raised his head just enough, only enough, to spy a few concrete steps leading to a brick housefront with a familiar shape. When he sat up a little more, he could just make out the small streak on vinyl siding where he’d wiped away ash to reveal a little strip of white.

Five lay his head on the asphalt and closed his eyes.

******

The first call came while Vanya was fixing breakfast.

She paused, spatula held over her French toast, listening past the music. The High Kings hadn’t been her first choice, but after a few loud knocks against the floor from her downstairs neighbors, she’d been forced to trade the Rumjacks for something that didn’t demand to be played at top volume. Much as she still wanted to stomp downstairs and give them a piece of her mind, she admitted flute and acoustic guitar were easier to tune out than electric guitar and bagpipes.

It could be the Van Burghs, wanting to lay down yet another law for her upcoming visit to their home. She shoved the spatula under the French toast with more force than necessary. One asshole had taken out one restraining order for an incident entirely unrelated to music or teaching, and she suddenly couldn’t be trusted to host students in her apartment.

The phone rang again. If it was the Van Burghs she ought to answer, might be closer to losing Katie as a student if she didn’t, but they’d expect her to speak calmly and agree to each new mandate they’d invented. Between the neighbors and what she’d learned the night before, she—

The night before.

Dad.

Her own voice played, followed by the beep of the answering machine.

“Miss Vanya.”

She froze, eggs sizzling in the pan. She’d dodged that voice for over ten years, but she’d know it anywhere.

“I am not certain if you heard last night’s broadcast. Perhaps you did, in which case I am sorry you didn’t hear of your father’s passing from one who knew him.”

Vanya straightened. There was no one around to toss her in prison for making the pan tremble and the picture frames adorning her walls shake, so she let them shake as she set the spatula aside.

“I know this may be a difficult time for you, Miss Vanya, especially if this is not the first you’re hearing of his death. But—“

She cleared the room in a few quick strides and snatched up the receiver. Pogo’s next words were bright with surprise.

“Miss Vanya! I confess I—“

Vanya slammed the receiver down as hard as she could.

The second came while Vanya was out coaching Katie through the Irish folk tunes she liked, and by the time she returned it was already several hours old. She returned the call, slamming the phone down at the sound of Mom’s voice.

Vanya went from one job to another, stopping back at her apartment when she needed rest or a bite to eat. Sometimes the phone rang while she was there, sometimes it did not. Slamming the phone down lost what little satisfaction it had carried, and she let the calls go. Her answering machine became an oral history of an event that had yet to occur.

“I’ve not had the opportunity to speak with Master Klaus, although I am certain he shall be in attendance.”

Naturally. Dad’s estate would probably lose half its value within the first forty-eight hours of Klaus’ return.

“Hello, Vanya dear. Luther has just returned from the Moon.”

And she knew he couldn’t wait to brag about it.

“Miss Allison has provided me with a few dates that would fit within her schedule. I’ll give them to you now….”

Ah yes, her schedule. At least Vanya wasn’t the only one in the family forced onto a therapist’s couch once a week. Were they on halfway speaking terms, Vanya might have called to say as much.

“Diego told me he’ll be present at the memorial service. I’m certain he’d love to see both his sisters there.”

Vanya nearly chocked on mirthless laughter and fried rice. If Mom had to tell that particular lie about one of her siblings, Diego had to be the worst candidate—and then only by default. The true winner of that dubious honor hadn’t set foot in the Academy in sixteen years. Sixteen blessed years.

She checked her calendar against the dates Allison had given, hoping to find a student on most of them, a therapy session on the rest. Instead, she found gaps that aligned.

Of course, there was no need to call back. No need to let Pogo know she had space in her schedule to attend the funeral. She could simply let the dates come and go, allow her siblings to bury him or scatter his ashes or whatever he’d demanded they do with his body as they exulted in her absence.

He finally caught her while peeling garlic for the pasta she’d just added to the boiling water on the stove. She’d half a mind to ignore it, let him add his latest message to the tape she’d one day smash to dust, but he hadn’t stopped calling yet and showed no signs of slowing.

“Ah, hello, Miss Vanya.” No surprise in his voice this time. Only the same coolness she’d heard when caught in a lie. “I was wondering when I might find you in a free moment.”

“I’m not going, Pogo.”

“It was among your father’s last requests, Miss Vanya. He wished for all his children to lay him to rest.”

“Yeah, well, he’s dead, so I don’t see how he’s gonna make that happen.”

“Through certain…stipulations in his will, of which you will be made aware upon your return to the Academy.”

“I don’t need his money.”

“Money was not the sole focus of his will, Miss Vanya.”

Vanya could have asked what he meant, should have asked what he meant, but the words stuck in her throat. For a moment, she was back at the Academy, sitting down to a bowl of oatmeal that she knew, from that glint in Dad’s eyes, would rob her of her powers for the day. That first bite was always the worst, the second and third no better. All of them threatened a gag. All of them had to be choked down.

“What….” She fought to keep the words as even as possible. “What else did he put in it?”

“You may learn this with your siblings following his memorial service.”

Vanya gritted her teeth, but the sliver of anger she felt hadn’t yet grown enough to overtake the fear coiling in her stomach. She could still refuse to go. Stay home, try her hand at writing music again, bake cookies, maybe even schedule another student if she was lucky. But the question of what would happen if she didn’t—of what that will mandated be done to her if she didn’t—stood like a shadowy figure just beyond her sight. Were she to stay away, she’d find that question answered before she had time to defend herself.

There was only one question to ask now. The only one Pogo would answer.

“When is it?”

*******

Delores was ecstatic.

He’d jumped. Just a small one, just enough to get him from the Academy to the library’s surrounding neighborhood, but he’d done it. He’d jumped, and he’d done it without landing someplace worse than the one he’d escaped. Now he could get from one end of the city to the other. He could zip to the countryside to see if any edible plants had sprung up. He could go home.

“There’s a big difference between a spatial jump and a time jump, Delores.”

She didn’t care. A jump was a jump, and if he could manage one, he could manage the other.

Usually when she spoke, there was a bit of chiding in what she said—drink more water, eat more food, test out that filtration system already, you’ve read the instructions and warnings a hundred times and no, you won’t poison yourself, just give it a try, will you? But this time, her every word was laced with excitement. Joy, even.

“I already tried to go back. I—I don’t think you can go backward. Just forward.”

He knew he ought to be scavenging—no matter how much food he set aside, no matter how carefully he rationed it, the cans always disappeared quicker than he wanted—but when Delores kept on about what might happen and what might be possible, he found himself back among what remained of the library’s stacks. Some books were gone, some left unreadable, but others remained whole. Enough remained whole.

It took some doing to get to the section he needed. The Academy’s library hadn’t used the Dewey Decimal System, and navigating this one was a bit of a challenge without a librarian to guide him through the stew of numbers and letters, to say nothing of the stacks that no longer existed. But he found them. Against the odds, against the voice in the back of his mind telling him he should be doing something more useful, he found them—and sat down to read.

Time travel gave rise to debate. Ignoring those who called it possible only within narrow limitations left Five with an abundance of theories and models, some of which were consistent with one another and some of which were not. Some claimed travel was possible in only one direction; others, which Five liked better, allowed for the intersection between a point in the future and a point in the past. While these didn’t outright say it was possible to jump from the latter to the former, the very act of drawing a line between them provided hope, however scant, that the line could be traversed in either direction.

He found a chalkboard and some chalk and took notes. He looked past the contradictions and found commonalities. Similar notions regarding the shape of time, whether linear or curved or somewhere between the two. Potential mechanics for stepping from one point to the other. Calculations acting as clairvoyance and steering all in one. They were just theories, of course, but theories crafted by brilliant physicists with more time than he to think through the ramifications of what he needed to do. Theories Dad had read. Theories he hadn’t paid much mind.

“I did find a lot of food yesterday,” Five said when Delores remarked on the speed with which he’d filled the chalkboard. “But I need to save it.”

He copied another equation from the journal article he’d found. The scratching chalk blended with Delores’ voice.

“Look, you’re the one who told me I should try to get back. I’m just working out the best way.”

The wind ruffled his pages as Delores spoke again.

“I can eat tomorrow. I’ll be—”

She wasn’t finished. Five bowed his head, sighing, and plucked a can of beans from his collection.

He found a few umbrellas and tarps, set them up around the chalkboard as he continued to read, tossing out aspects that contradicted his own limited experience and seizing on aspects that elaborated on what he knew. A theory of his own took root, burst through the ground, and sprouted leaves. Five watered it and sheltered it from the ash as best he could, but the shape was not one he favored.

There were some theorists who believed location irrelevant to time travel. If one could zip through time, they reasoned, surely one could pop up at any place one desired. But when Five had torn through one season and into another, the area around him hadn’t moved. Stores closed and snow fell, but he’d never left the street he started on. On the surface, it appeared one might always end up back where they began—that a jump from Christmas Eve to Labor Day would never deviate from the city in which the jump was made.

But the longer Five looked, the more evidence he saw for greater depth. He’d jumped without a clear destination in mind, only a desire to prove he could. No location. No specific point. And yet he’d wound up running along the same street. That could be coincidence—but it could suggest symmetry. If past and present could cross at certain points, perhaps that crossing could only occur at a point common to both. He’d seen it drawn as two lines intersecting, all four points extending out into perpetuity from one central hub. That point could simply mark a day and year—or it could mark a city, a street, a building. The closer one remained to the location where one began, the easier it might be to reach the time one wanted.

Unless his math was off, returning to his siblings meant returning to the Academy.

*********

Vanya stepped over the threshold and turned thirteen again.

The Academy had always felt too big for a family of their size. Seven was by no means a small number of children, but it seemed to take more time than necessary to get from the dining area to the courtyard, and late-night trips to the kitchen from her bedroom were often fraught with more danger than any trip to the fridge warranted. She’d considered telling Dad that they could have shaved a few precious minutes off preparation time for missions simply by living in a smaller house, but then she’d decided she didn’t care.

He hadn’t changed a thing since the day she’d left. The tile was still spotless, still shining faintly in what clouded daylight managed to enter the room, amplifying the gentle slap of her sneakers. White pillars supporting mahogany arches lacked any trace of dust. Wood panels gleamed, and she caught a whiff of oil soap. Three steps in and Vanya half-expected Dad to step out from the front room, demanding to know why she’d thought it appropriate to so flagrantly disregard the family’s schedule.

He was dead. Dust and ash. She’d never hear that voice again.

A few steps took her further into the entryway, close to the front room. As a teen, she’d tried to train herself not to look. She’d tried to keep her eyes forward, keep them on a book in her hand, keep them pointed away from the far wall. She’d tried jogging, she’d tried skirting toward the opposite side of the entryway, she’d tried avoiding the front door as much as Dad’s insistence on public appearances would allow. But in the end, she’d always looked—just as she looked now.

Sure enough, Five gazed out from the confines of his portrait, one arm draped over a wooden railing. It was his expression that had always made Vanya want to tear the portrait from the wall—that solemn and thoughtful look, as though he contemplated the secrets of the universe while the photographer snapped his photo. If he had ever once worn that look of his own volition, Vanya hadn’t been there to see it. When he’d gazed at her, he’d always worn at least the ghost of a smile, smug and mischievous all at once. Guess what I did to your clothes? that smile said. Too late, it said.

The others had always laughed at his pranks. Laughed while she screamed. Laughed while Dad did nothing. That dignified frown, that pensive gaze—it belied what Five had truly been, beneath that facade. Dad should have seen it the day he ran, but instead he’d enshrined Five above the mantelpiece, honored his defiance and watched for his return.

“Look who decided to show up.”

Vanya grit her teeth. She would have turned away as Diego descended the stairs, but she’d already been facing his direction and he wouldn’t take it without comment. “Need any help getting down the stairs?”

He smiled and continued at his leisurely pace. Vanya wasn’t sure which angered her more. “Oh, you wouldn’t do that. Not now.”

She’d expected a remark like this. Newspapers and tabloids alike had pounced on the story before she’d even left the police station. Not all of them had considered it front-page news, but even those that had pushed it back to page eight took pains to mention prior warnings, other incidents, turning it all into a saga of near-misses and eventual comeuppance. Diego would have read every single one of those stories, and Vanya had an inkling that if she visited his pitiful excuse for an apartment, she’d find he’d clipped them out and pinned each and every one of them to his fridge. Of course he knew. Of course he’d gloat.

That didn’t stop a jolt of fear.

He’d taunted her when they were younger, daring her to lash out with all the rage she had in hopes of forcing her to cross the arbitrary lines Dad had drawn and watching in glee as she reaped the consequences. But he’d done so from a distance. Left a note on her door. Stolen her favorite cereal. Sent Five into her room with a list. He’d mocked her openly, of course, but only when nothing else he’d tried had delivered the same satisfaction.

“Prison won’t be the walk in the park you think it’ll be.”

The officers who’d responded to past incidents had addressed her with confidence, but never threats. Nothing like what they’d told her at the station. She’d wondered then, and since, if they’d stumbled onto Dad’s secret.

Diego may have been forcibly ejected from the police academy, but he hadn’t let that keep him from inflicting his company on the city’s officers. Between bouts of their ongoing game of catch and release, he’d have had time to drop a hint like that, and it would have been just like Dad to hand over the name of that medication to everyone but her. Vanya could just see him leaning over Patch’s desk, lowering his voice to say that he “might be able to help you solve a problem, if you’ll get me out of this one.”

She watched him cooly trace a finger over the rim of the vase. It was nowhere near deafening, but in the quiet of the Academy, the gentle scrape of his skin against glass was enough to call to her. And in the quiet of the Academy, it would be enough to send him flying backward, enough to make him hit the furthest wall with a crack that was not only splintering wood. Enough to rip that confidence from him and replace it with terror.

“Diego? Di—there you are. Luther wants to—”

Allison halted. Her gaze landed on Diego only briefly, choosing instead to rest on her. The distance was too great for Vanya to read the finer nuances of her sister’s expression, but she’d seen the broad strokes of it before, when Dad walked into a room unexpected and unannounced.

“Luther wants to meet in the common room,” Allison said, shifting her full attention back to Diego—a move that seemed to restore some of her composure.

“He say why?”

“No. Just seemed eager to get started.”

“Fine.” Diego lifted his finger from the vase, but not before turning to Vanya and raising his eyebrows in an expression she couldn’t quite read. Then, with their eyes locked, he gave the glass a flick that sent a pure, hollow note ringing through the entryway. Allison gave her one last glance, and walked with Diego toward the common room.

Not once. Not once had Allison spoken to her. Not once had Diego called attention to her presence. She had stood mere feet from the both of them, and neither had bothered to extend Luther’s invitation to her, preferring instead to walk off and leave her like some stranger, stranded in the entrance.

Vanya waited until they’d disappeared around the corner, then gave them another minute or two. No one peered out and asked her if she was coming in. No one called her name.

Paintings rattled on the walls as she turned on her heel and marched back toward the front door. Maybe Klaus asked if she was coming. Maybe Luther wondered what was taking her so long. Whatever they might have said was cut off by the slam of the door, and drowned out by a crack of thunder from overhead.

*********

Five wasn’t sure where in the Academy he needed to stand, but he couldn’t venture toward the center. Not without that croaking voice calling to him again. He suppressed a shudder, but heard nothing aside from the wind.

He released the handle of Delores’ wagon and read his notes again. He hadn’t spent as much time on them as he would have liked; enthusiasts loved to discuss time travel, and he could have spent years reading their theories and formulating his own. Instead, he’d spent weeks.

“I should read some more,” he told Delores.

He tried to focus his attention entirely on his notes, but her voice cut through his thoughts.

“I don’t know how long we’ve got. Don’t even know if there is a window here.”

His throat closed as she spoke again. If there was indeed a window through which he could step from present to past, it would be easier to slip through alone. Hanging onto the wagon, or even just Delores’ hand, could drag him down and keep him from stepping through the rift before it vanished.

“I’m sorry, Delores.”

Her voice was gentle, with no trace of anger. Sorrow, yes, but lacing encouragement. He was leaving, yes, but leaving for his family. Leaving for something better.

Five embraced her. She couldn’t hug him back, he knew; but as he held her close, he thought she might want to. That if she could have held him as tightly as he held her, she would have done it without hesitation.

He only pulled away at her urging.

Five clenched fists, watched them glow blue, and pushed at the barrier separating past from present. When he’d tried before, it had been like pushing at reinforced concrete with his bare hands. Now, it was like pushing at cloth a foot thick. It didn’t quite yield to his touch, but it moved. He just needed to find a tear, or a gap beneath wide enough for him to shimmy through.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the barrier he couldn’t see. On his siblings. He thought of how he’d known them, and how they’d appeared when he found them, and didn’t much care which he got as long as they were alive. As long as they were breathing and healthy and walking around a world that was still intact under a sky that was still blue. He felt along the barrier, seeking out any weaknesses, any cracks he might turn into a tear.

There.

Five had no time to wonder where it might lead—only to grasp it in both hands and pry it apart. Maybe he’d step through and find himself back at home with Dad tapping his foot. Maybe he’d land three years or five years or ten years after he’d vanished, or twenty years before his birth.

Or maybe his calculations were wrong.

He could just as easily find himself alone in a place without his family. Without Delores. Not a world of burning buildings and falling ash, but a world of nothing. A world so far gone there was nothing left to burn, no plants left to overtake the ruined roads, no air left to breathe. Not merely a dead world, but a world where life was no longer welcome. If that was where he landed….

If that was where he landed, then it would be over.

He gave one more tug, and the barrier gave.

It was like looking through a window shrouded in a haze of fog. There was a large square something that could have been the side of a building, a stretch of green and an expanse of grey. He would have laughed with joy, but the barrier already wanted to snap back into place. Seconds more and his concentration would no longer be enough.

He lunged through.

The headache took him immediately. It had found him during his first excursion through time, but he’d been able to think past it. Able to ignore it long enough to try and get back. Able to do more than sink to his knees as cold drops splashed onto his skin.

A door slammed shut somewhere close by. Four figures appeared in the rain, drew close enough for him to make out shapes he thought he knew. Shapes he’d buried months ago.

He tried to remain upright, just to watch the faces and see if he knew them, but the pain threatened to knock him over. Five curled on his side before it could, feeling the wet grass prickle his cheek and drops of water caress his aching head.

“Oh my god.”

It was a woman’s voice—not the inexplicably clear one of a mannequin that had learned to talk, but a real, human voice, dulled by distance and rain. Wherever he’d landed, whenever that was, both grass and humans had survived.

“Is that—?”

This one was closer than the last, a little clearer. Five knew he should sit up, but pain held him to the ground.

“You…you guys see Number Five too, right?”

Tears sprang to his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t his siblings, maybe it was only a search party Dad had organized in a rare moment of concern, or one that had organized of its own accord—but they knew his name. They’d seen him, they knew him, and they could match his name to his face even when that face was half-hidden by the ground.

Someone knelt beside him; a hand touched his shoulder.

“Five? Five, can you hear me?”

A man’s voice, gruff but not unpleasant, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Five almost didn’t want to look. If he looked, he could see a stranger staring back, a face that hadn’t been burned into his memory since the day he’d buried his siblings.

He opened his eyes, turned his head just enough to see whoever was near. Blond hair cut short. Faint stubble sprinkled over a strong jaw. Shoulders wider than they should have been, hiding beneath an overcoat. Hands cloaked in fingerless gloves. Five had grasped those hands, tried in vain to pull their owner from the rubble. He’d covered that face with blighted earth and marked it with a stone.

“Luther?”

His mouth twitched upward toward a smile, though the corners didn’t quite make it. “Yeah. It—it’s me, Five.”

Five’s throat closed. Tears spilled down his cheeks, washed away by the rain. He raised an arm to wipe them away, useless though it was, and found a hand beneath his shoulder, coaxing him to sit up, helping him rise—but it wasn’t Luther who smiled back at him. Her smile, so full of joy and sorrow all mingled together, sent a fresh round of tears cascading down. Allison pulled him close.

“Shhhh shhhh shhhh.” She rubbed his back the way Mom would when he was sick, and he heard a catch in her voice. “It’s okay. It’s all right. We’ve got you.”

He couldn’t speak. He wanted to, if only to show Allison he was fine and ease the worry in her voice, soothe the tears away, but he could only sob into her shoulder. Other hands patted his shoulders, tousled his hair, said small soothing things.

Four siblings. Four voices. Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus. The four he’d found in the Academy. No Ben, but no Vanya. The house was still intact. The rain was natural.

After a moment, Allison lifted her head. “Diego?”

Diego stood. “I’ll get Mom.”

Five raised his head, hoping to watch Diego as he disappeared into the Academy, but a flash of movement beside the door caught his eye. He followed it, and his breath caught in his throat.

She’d stopped to grab an umbrella. Her dark hair was still dry, falling in pin-straight locks about her shoulders. A deep purple jacket was layered over a dark grey shirt, and she’d paired it with jeans and Converse shoes nearly soaked through. Five tensed, waiting for her to approach and stand beside, but she halted a yard or so away. Rain hammered a staccato beat against her umbrella.

“Vanya.” Luther had gotten to his feet—though for what, Five couldn’t say. “Thought you’d left.”

“Yeah,” she said, but her gaze didn’t land on Luther. Five felt it rest on him, and the weight of it made him shrink further into Allison’s arms. “Me too.”

*********

Chapter Two

20 notes · View notes