Chapter Text
When he was eighteen, Five broke.
There was no real cause. One day he looked out at the ash-covered wasteland and it hit him that he was the only human left in existence.
And he shattered.
He scattered in a thousand jagged pieces that he was never able to collect again. Grabbing a knife, he had considered, seriously considered giving up. Five years of useless calculations and constant failures; his family’s absence grating on him like a reopened wound.
Then he had met eyes with Delores and all he could see was his family staring back at him.
He dropped the knife and never picked it up again.
It took five years alone, without his family, in an apocalyptic wasteland for Five to break. It takes Lila six years stuck between time with her parent’s murderer and brother in-law to do the same thing.
It’s another apocalypse timeline.
As Five breathes in the ash, choking on it with a familiar heaviness in his heart, Lila steps forwards towards the crumbled building beside them.
“Shit.” Is all Five can say because he is tired.
Tired of the fucking subway; tired of forever fighting to get back to his family; tired of failure after failure.
With a heavy sigh, Five turns back towards that god damn subway.
But Lila did not follow.
“Lila?” Turning around, Five pauses at the sight of his companion. She’s completely still, eyes staring blankly at the ground. Following her gaze, Five stiffens.
It’s a school.
Lying still at Lila’s feet, is the body of a child.
The body has decayed so much, Five cannot tell whether it was once a girl or boy. Bile rises in his throat and Five glances away. He saw enough bodies in his forty years stuck in this hell and his time at the commission, he has no desire to see anymore.
“Lila,” Five makes an effort to soften his voice, “Lila we have to go.”
Lila stays silent, looking fixedly at the body of the child before her. Five breathes in deeply, closing his eyes. He wishes, not for the first time, that he was better at this, at being part of a family. Forty years in isolation have left their scars. Six years trapped with only one other person has worsened them.
“Lila,” This time Five’s voice is harsher, a product of his anger at himself, “Lila, let’s go.”
Lila drags her gaze away, ensuring to make direct eye contact with him; Five meets hers steadily. It feels like he’s staring at himself fifty years ago. Without uttering a word, Lila pushes past him and runs back into the subway.
Gritting his teeth, Five allows himself a moment of weakness, of rage at their situation, before he turns and follows Lila back down the steps into the subway.
Turning the corner, Five freezes.
He’s suffocating. His chest is seizing and he can’t breathe anything but ash. He is suddenly thirteen again, finding his family dead in the remnants of the only home he has ever known.
Before him, Lila is holding a knife to her wrists.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
The silence that follows his words was one of the worst Five had even experienced in his seventy years of life. Lila’s wide, pale eyes met his and Five felt his lips pulling back into a snarl. He did not spend six years keeping both of them alive for Lila to throw it all away.
Be gentle with her, Five has not heard Delores in nearly twelve years, but here she was, grounding him, softening his ragged edges, You know how she’s feeling.
And Delores is right, Five knows intimately how it feels to break, to fracture into a thousand pieces and know you will never recover.
But he is angry. Angry at Lila for trying to throw her life away when they have their family to return to. Angry at himself for not noticing the all-consuming hopelessness in Lila’s eyes sooner. Angry at both of them for getting trapped down in this god-forsaken subway in the first place.
But most of all he is absolving furious at himself for feeling angry. For looking at his sister in-law, his mirror, someone who has become perhaps his closest friend and being angry at the fact that she is hurting.
Lila is trembling, her lip quivering, as she stares at Five. The confident and abrasive woman Five has come to know over the past years is gone and all Five can see is the little four year-old girl he condemned nearly fifteen years ago.
“Lila,” Five’s voice far too cruel for what she needs, but he is all she has, “Drop the fucking knife.”
Lila does not move.
Five forces down the panic curling in his chest, “Lila.”
Lila’s brown eyes are sorrowful as she tightens her grip on the knife, sending a jolt of electricity through Five’s heart. Depp down, he understands that if he watches Lila die, what is left of his fragile psyche snap. He will be stuck between the cracks of time forever. And then there will be no one to keep his remaining family alive.
“I’m tired, Five,” Lila whispers, “I’m tired of seeing my kids in every child we see. Tired of seeing my husband’s body in every other timeline.”
Five’s very soul aches. Because he is tired to. Tired right down to the molecules that make up his body.
“So I am,” Five’s throat tightens, “I’ve been tired for nearly six decades.”
Lila says nothing and neither does Five. They are broken, wild creatures masquerading as people. But they are family. At first through Diego, and his love for them both. Then through their shared history with the Commission. Now through their years in this subway.
“Lila,” Five takes Delores words and struggles to gentle his tone, “We can be tired and still see our family again.”
Lila shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes, “It’s been six years-”
“And I made it back after forty,” Five counters, “We’re not aging here, we have time.”
Lila still does not move, but she does not grasp the knife any tighter. Five takes it as a win. Slowly, he shuffles forward, reaching out an imploring hand towards Lila, whose haunted eyes continue to stare into his.
“When I was eighteen,” There was a time where Five would have rather spent another decade in the apocalypse than admit a weakness, “I nearly gave up.”
The vulnerability of his words causes Lila’s grip on the knife to soften.
“Why didn’t you?” Lila asks.
Five swallows, fighting the urge to hide his shaking hands, and releases a shuddering gasp. Why didn’t he? His hands twitch with the phantom feeling of the knife.
“Because even though my life doesn’t matter,” Five smiles bitterly, “Their’s did. I couldn’t give up on them.”
Lila’s returning smile is shaky, “Loving them hurts so much, doesn’t it.”
Five remembers the piercing feeling in his chest when he saw Klaus’ tattoo among the rubble; the way his hands shook as he saw Viktor on stage; the way throat constricted when Allison pushed that button. He watches as Lila holds a knife to her wrists.
“Yes,” Five’s words are barely audible, “But I would never have it any other way.”
Letting out a strangled sob, Lila shudders and drops the knife. Like lightning, Five dashes forward and snatches up the knife, slipping it into his coat pocket.
Lila’s trembling hands cover her face, and she lets out a muffled scream from behind them. Five hovers, for once in his life uncertain, as he watches her come to terms about what she nearly did.
“Lila,” Five trails off.
Now that the threat to her life has passed, Five has very little of an idea what to do. There’s a certain tragedy in that, he notes vaguely.
In the end, Five gently grasps Lila’s wrists, taking comfort in the familiar dull throb of her pulse against his fingers, and pulls them away from her face. She doesn’t meet his gaze; Five shivers from the guilt and shame on her face.
“You’re family, Lia,” Five tightens his grip on her wrists, “You’re a Hargreeves. That means you don’t give up.”
Lila shudders, her eyes closing. They stay unmoving a long time; the quiet only broken by their sharp breathing. Slowly, Five feels his heart rate returning to what could be considered an average speed and his vice grip on Lila’s wrists loosens.
Eventually, Lila straightens up and Five hesitantly lets go of her. She brushes her hair back out of her face, leaving Five to stare at the tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Let’s try an eastbound train.” Lila’s voice shook, “We’ve tried three Westbound one in a row.”
She’s deflecting. The good old Commission tactic of never showing any weakness. Five should stop her, tell her she doesn’t have to do that around him. But he knows the bone deep shame she is feeling, he remembers not being able to look Delores in the eyes for days.
“Fine,” He says, adjusting his thread worn coat, “But first we should get some food.”
Lila nods stiffly, her lack of an argument telling him how exhausted she really is. Five feels her fatigue mirrored in himself, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He watches as Lila turns and starts walking towards the train, her shaking hands the only sign of what had just conspired.
Five follows.
The weight of the knife burning a hole in his pocket.