Chapter Text
April 2003
The sudden onslaught of shouting rings through the halls, interrupting Vanya’s private rehearsal as she jerks her arm on reflex, only for her bow to screech unpleasantly across her violin’s strings.
Vanya places her violin and bow on her bed and quickly pats her pockets for her medicine before tossing the closed bottle on her bed as well. She pokes her head out her doorway fast enough to catch a glimpse of Klaus’s door slamming closed in Allison’s face. Ben trailing close behind them. Something exciting must have happened.
They’ve just come up from the parlor where Vanya knows Dad has been preparing them all evening for yet another public outing and interview set for tomorrow. Which of course meant Vanya got to spend the last few hours practicing her violin alone in her room. It’s not so bad, and she thinks she’s starting to get the hang of it after only playing for a year, but when her siblings continuously stomp through the halls, completely careless of the need for silence in order for her to concentrate, well—
She frowns.
Anyway, curiosity piqued, she steps beyond the threshold. The others don’t seem to notice, fully focused on prying open Klaus’s door. She was hoping that appearing in their periphery would make her presence known so she wouldn’t have to say anything. The others are coming up the hall now. Diego straight into his room before he even makes it to them, but Luther continues in their direction. She is uncertain if his destination is Klaus or his own room just past Vanya’s.
Recognizing her window to learn more is closing, Vanya takes a deep breath and walks up to Ben, nudging his elbow gently.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
Luther is up to them now and turns at her question. “It’s Academy business—stay out of it.”
Allison stops her fruitless attempt with Klaus’s door and turns to face them. “Hey, don’t be mean to Vanya. She’s just concerned, aren’t you, Vanya?”
She isn’t sure if Allison is being entirely genuine or simply patronizing, but either way, she shrinks back, unused to her opinion being asked of anything, let alone in challenge to Luther.
Funny, how Allison caused her to shut down faster than Luther’s comment. However, Allison’s rebuttal works on Luther as well, and he continues down the hall to his own bedroom, slamming the door on the whole situation. Usually Luther is the one to try to bring the team back together, so whatever happened must be frustrating to him as well.
Ben turns to Vanya as Allison goes back to work on Klaus’s door. “I don’t know what’s going on. He just freaked out and wouldn’t tell anyone why,” Ben tells her. “Dad thinks it’s because of what he gets up to outside of the Academy. You know how he sneaks stuff in—alcohol, drugs?” She nods. She is very much aware, as they share a wall. “Anyway, Dad is putting locks on his door and window so he can’t get out at night. Mom will be coming through to clear out any ‘paraphernalia’ and install the locks.”
Vanya nods, mouth still tightly shut. Klaus’s bad habits really have been getting out of hand. She knows best of all, with how he keeps her up at odd hours in the night. She looks back to Ben to see him scrubbing at his face.
“Are you okay, Ben?” she asks. Dark circles ring his eyes and his skin appears sallow.
“Huh?”
“You look tired.” She does her best to weave her worries into her voice, but it still comes out flat and awkward, like everything she does. It’s frustrating, how hard of a time she has connecting with her own family.
“I’ve just been having these… weird dreams.” He pauses. “But it’s nothing to worry about, seriously.”
Allison has moved onto trying to pick the lock with one of her hair pins, but she looks up at this, concerned. “You should have said something, Ben. What kind of dreams?”
“It’s just normal dream stuff. Showing up to a conference in my pajamas instead of my uniform, missions going wrong—like I said, nothing worth worrying about,” Ben reasons. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
If Vanya were a braver person, she would point out that if it was that normal, he wouldn’t find it worth mentioning. But Vanya is not a brave person. So instead, she tries to think of how she can offer comfort or support. All her question has done is make things uncomfortable for Ben and distract Allison from her mission of getting into Klaus’s room after his tantrum.
Whenever Vanya has issues sleeping, Mom will rub her back and pet her hair and sing for her. Maybe she can offer something similar for Ben?
Allison beats her to the punch, just like with everything else in their lives. She rubs his shoulder and gives him a soft look.
“Hey, our interview tomorrow is at the station downtown. I’m pretty sure I can get one of the PAs to make a donut,” Allison offers, rubbing his shoulder. “Dad isn’t even going to be there, so he won’t even know.”
“Finally using your power for good,” Ben jokes.
“I always use my power for good,” she scoffs.
“Oh yeah? What about—”
“That was forever ago,” Allison insists, cutting him off with the wave of her hand.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I don’t need to. Whatever it was, I’m a completely different woman now.”
Vanya feels like a trespasser in their conversation. Butted out before she even realized what was happening. She looks down at her hands clenched in her skirt, resigned to the spiraling and then returning to her room, but a sound interrupts her thoughts. It takes her a moment to recognize it was Klaus’s window being pried open but when she does, she rolls her eyes. He really is just looking for trouble at this point.
The others don’t seem to have heard it, however, as they are still conversing, Allison completely distracted from her previous goal.
“Klaus is getting away,” Vanya says.
“What?” Allison turns to her, the teasing smile stolen from her face.
“I heard his window open. He’s probably halfway to the street already.” She gestures over her shoulder into her own bedroom, and Allison rushes past her. Ben more gently guides Vanya out of the way so he can join Allison at the window just as she’s finished opening it. Allison all but throws her torso out the window frame as she searches for Klaus.
Vanya hears the beginning of a rumor when her attention is directed down the hall once more when Five rounds the corner. He’s headed towards the red stairs. Grateful that he didn’t see the need to simply jump to his room after their assembly in the parlor, she takes one last glance at Allison before hurrying to the stairs as well. She’s been trying to find an opportunity to talk with Five again since the other day, and gossiping about Klaus’s supposed outburst seems like as good a topic as any.
“Klaus locked his door and is sneaking out. Allison and Ben are trying to catch him from my window. I heard her try to rumor him,” she says, desperate to be the first to inform him and hold his attention in whatever form she can get it.
It works; Five pauses on the stairs and turns to look at her a few steps below him. Vanya continues.
“It must have been a huge mess to upset Dad enough to ground him like this. What did he do?”
Five looks over his shoulder in the direction of her bedroom. He makes a face somewhere between a grimace and an unsettled frown but doesn’t say anything.
“Ben said he just freaked out for no reason,” Vanya continues.
“When has Klaus ever needed a reason to be erratic?” Five responds.
“You don’t think it’s weird?” Vanya asks.
“It’s just Klaus. When isn’t he acting weird?” Five asks, still not answering the question.
“Okay, but you have to admit he’s been acting even weirder than usual lately. Even for Klaus.”
“What do you mean, ‘lately?’ ” Five asks, and his attention is finally on her. This was her goal, but it still flusters her.
“I mean, I don’t know. He’s been sneaking out more, I guess,” Vanya offers. This isn’t the opening she was hoping for, but she’ll take any scraps of his attention at this point. “It’s like he thinks he can slack off more now that you’re back.”
Five’s eyes sharpen on her before darting back down the hall towards the earlier commotion. He brings a hand to his chin as he begins to mouth words, eyes flickering back and forth like he’s reading a book or working something out in his head.
“I have to go. Dad wants me to rehearse my talking points for tomorrow.” He excuses himself before racing up the stairs. Runs, not jumps. Klaus isn’t the only one acting weird.
Vanya huffs. He must be off to his equations again, surely. What that has to do with Klaus, she has no idea, but she can’t help but feel the frustration prickle under her skin, like a buildup of static electricity waiting to be expelled.
“He got away.”
“What?” she asks on reflex and turns to see Ben. She didn’t notice his approach.
“Klaus,” he says, eyebrow raised at her like she is the crazy one in this discussion. “He was already down to the alley by the time Allison tried to rumor him. He’s a scary good climber.”
“Doesn’t he know he’s just proving Dad’s point? He’s only going to get in more trouble now.”
“I don’t think he cares,” Ben says before he too begins climbing the stairs up to his room. “Lucky for me, it’s not my job to be his conscience. That would be the worst job in the world.”
Months ago, Vanya watched as Klaus began hoarding an array of pillows, quilts, and other soft materials in his room. At first, thinking it was just another one of his odd new habits, she and Ben would help explore the attic and other dark corners of the academy to help grow this stockpile.
It was only when she dared to practice her violin around the others, eliciting a harsh comment and subsequent rumor, that Vanya realized Klaus had been crudely soundproofing their shared wall.
At the time, she was still new to playing—only having started when they were twelve years old—but Klaus never said anything negative, simply adapted and allowed her to grow.
Shortly after he escaped his window, Mom comes through as promised to install the locks and clear his room. Vanya knows because she helps her carry the old pillows and blankets—smelling earthy and herbal—down to the trash.
Klaus returns later that night just after three AM if the soft reverberation of her brother’s neighboring door being closed means anything. Hushed whispers cut through the wall and nudge Vanya’s curious nature. He’s talking with someone. This isn’t unheard of, his ability to commune with the dead and all—but Vanya can hear the differences in pitch and knows his conversation partner is more likely to be someone of the living persuasion.
This isn’t the first time she’s listened into one of her siblings’ private conversations, though it’s gotten easier over the last several months. Everyone is less cautious now that their father’s focus is on Five. Either that or the walls have gotten thinner. It’s a balancing act, but once Vanya is fully roused from sleep, she stands on her mattress until she can get closer to the open vent between their rooms.
“… don’t know. A few months ago.” Klaus’s voice trails through. There’s a slight slur to his usual cadence. He sounds tired.
“When Five came back?” The voice is soft. Allison, she tells herself.
“I mean, I guess? It was a little after that but there have been so many showing up, it's hard to tell.” Klaus sighs. “What does it matter? No one else can see them.”
“No, but you can. And it’s obviously bothering you.”
The assertion gives Vanya pause. She would have scoffed if not for the fact that Allison actually sounds concerned when she says it. Klaus is always goofing off without a care in the world. She didn’t think anything could bother Klaus. If there is something, well—it is news to Vanya.
Suddenly, Klaus’s voice has dropped in pitch and raised in volume.
“Have I ever been? Are any of us? Fuck, Allison, since when have you actually given a shit about the rest of us?”
While the raised volume makes it easier for her to hear the previously hushed conversation, Vanya realizes she missed part of the discussion. Her mind races as she attempts to fill in the blanks. She settles more solidly on her mattress, no longer straining to hear them speak.
“Don’t be dramatic…” she continues, but it’s hushed even more now, and Vanya cannot make out each distinct word until: “I’ve always cared.”
“Bullshit. You only care when you want something. So what is it—you know them, don’t you?”
“I don’t even speak Swedish, how would I know him?”
“I don’t know! But you must have done something. I don’t need to understand him to see that he really doesn’t like you.” His voice sounds oddly panicked and unlike anything Vanya's come to associate with her brother. Maybe Allison is right and whatever this is really is bothering him.
“Maybe if you ignore him he’ll go away. He’ll have to get bored eventually.”
“You don’t get it. None of you understand what they're like. This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Then let me help you,” Allison says, and Vanya knows what will follow. “I heard a rumor—”
She doesn’t need to hear the rest. Instead, she quickly moves to her door—cracks it open as quietly as she can—looks both ways and steps cautiously into the hallway.
Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction…
A crash—one of Klaus’s remaining trinkets breaks against the wall. The sound is like a bullet, but no one else down the hall rouses from their sleep. Adrenaline racing, Vanya moves across the hall. With the bathroom a direct path from her bedroom door, being out is a low risk if anyone catches her, and it gives her a better vantage point.
All the lights down the hall are turned off. Vanya no longer makes a point to turn them on each night, after all. It makes the triangle of light escaping from under Klaus’s door all the more eye-catching. She sees shadows move across until finally the door opens and out comes Allison.
Turned away, her hunched and quivering shoulders are ill-fitted to Allison’s regularly confident posture. Yet it strikes a chord of familiarity within Vanya, one of days left alone in halls too big and feelings of fear and solitude.
Allison is crying.
The concept is borderline laughable if not for the proof right before her eyes. Vanya hasn’t seen her sister crying—well, she can’t remember the last time she saw her sister cry. Not even when they were ten and Allison broke her wrist in a training exercise.
And then Allison turns and Vanya is hit with a deeply unsettling sense of guilt, like she’s intruding on a private moment no one is meant to see. Eyes still wet with tears, it’s obvious the other girl was not expecting an audience to her silent expression of emotions. But there’s no use trying to hide now, it seems.
“Vanya, hey.” Allison clears her throat and wipes her eyes with balled palms and carries on with a confidence that would never suggest she was caught in such an unguarded state. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”
“Bathroom,” Vanya says before she can stop herself. Why she would dare lie to the one person who can force her to tell the truth, she is unsure. But if Allison can be vulnerable, then Vanya can be bold—or completely out of her mind, depending on who you asked. She does her best to look convincing even with her pulse in her ears and sweat rising to the surface of not just her palms but her entire being.
Allison nods, but her eyes do not change focus as she looks from Vanya’s position to her open bedroom door in a motion that suggests she’s simply reacting on reflex and not listening to the context. “How much did you hear?” she asks, finally.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Vanya wraps her arms around her middle and puts on her best doe eyes. “I didn’t hear anything. I only got up to use the bathroom. I didn’t know anyone was still up.”
It’s terrifying and exhilarating all the same. Allison looks her dead in the eyes and Vanya braces herself for the inevitable—but a rumor never comes. Instead, Allison simply shakes her head.
“Alright,” she says. “Goodnight, Vanya.” She gives a melancholy smile and then walks past Vanya, closing her bedroom door behind her.
Vanya exhales shakily, having not realized she was holding her breath. Heart racing, she returns to her room and seeks her medication, giving up after a minute when she cannot locate the familiar orange bottle. She settles back in bed, pulls her plain sheet up to her chin and places her palm against the shared wall. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Her pulse calms, and she imagines she can hear her brother on the other side, finally settling for the night as well.
It’s all excitement—glitz and glamor—week after week, another newspaper, another magazine, another small-time reporter trying to prove something to their boss with a chance to interview the newly reunited Umbrella Academy. Vanya tries not to worry herself over it, but when they come bursting through the doors all high energy and smiles, she cannot help but to feel jealous when even Five is laughing, pulled around begrudgingly by Klaus through the corridor, only to inevitably break off and rush up the stairs with Luther at their heels, yelling for the two of them to slow down.
The only one who stops is Diego, delivering an all but melted cup of ice cream from their outing. It is mostly melted, the flavors blended together in a mishmash of pinks and browns, but Vanya cherishes it all the same. Rushes to place it in the freezer to have or a snack later on.
It’s nothing but a distraction. Vanya returns to rehearsing, her only audience the seemingly permanently lit fireplace and a portrait of her father above the mantelpiece. She has played more to it than anyone else in the house, living or machine.
She’s finishing up a particularly difficult section when clinking glasses break her focus. An odd sort of deja vu takes her, but when a different sound follows she is pulled from the distant memory to the wet bar at the opposite end of the room. Klaus waves to her casually like nothing is amiss. There is something deeply worrying about his familiarity among the bottles and ease with which he filla a glass and then a metal flask he pulla from the lining of his blazer.
“Klaus!” She looks around the room for witnesses before setting her violin down and making her way across the floor. “What are you doing?”
Klaus pauses for a moment, looking from hand to hand before raising an eyebrow in her direction. “Do I really need to answer that?“
“Get out of there before Dad catches you.” She thought he would be more careful now but obviously she expected too much from him.
“Or—and hear me out—you don’t tell me what to do and then you go back to your little music practice.”
“Klaus—”
“Look, I’m already finished. See?” He gestures to the bar, where all the glasses besides the one in his hand are back in place. She can’t tell the difference, anyway. “It was like I was never here.” Flask secured back in his jacket lining, he wiggles his fingers in a wavy motion, laughing to himself.
“What am I supposed to do if Dad or Pogo ask what happened? They know I’ve been practicing in here.” She peeks around the corner into the main entry, but it doesn’t sound like anyone is coming. Still, she is on high alert and not eager to get on Dad’s bad side.
“Uh, lie? You know, like a good sibling would.” He pats her on the head as he approaches. She jerks out of his reach but her hair is mussed up all the same. Like all the others, Klaus has grown quite a bit taller than her. However, unlike the others, meal replacements of pills and drink have left him downright gaunt—a ghost of his past self. “It’s not even that big a deal, I do this all the time.”
Was that supposed to make it better somehow? She pouts, not liking the idea very much because she doesn’t want to get in trouble. Instead of responding, she busies herself with smoothing out her bangs and trying not to look entirely pathetic.
“Maybe you just need to loosen up a little,” he says before grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to the bar with him.
“What are you doing now?” she asks again, as if she doesn’t already know.
Rather than answering, he holds up a newly poured glass of amber liquid. She scrunches her face up in distaste and shakes her head from side to side. It’s a look that Klaus must have misread, because he takes it back and pours in something else, stirs, and takes a sip before offering it to her again.
“Much better.” He nods, then adds, “here.” And the glass is in her hands now. She’s staring down at it like it’s a rabid animal instead of a mixed beverage and Klaus is looking at her expectantly. “Come on, drink up.” He places his hands under hers and lifts the glass, nearly pressing it to her lips but the motion is too quick. Some of the liquid spills over the edge and splashes down the front of her dress—all the way down to the hem of her skirt and tall socks.
An ill-timed laugh escapes Klaus before he can catch himself, made more obvious when he slaps one hand to his lips in a failed attempt to suppress his amusement.
“You’re drunk,” she says, shoving the glass back to her brother’s hands. Why does he have to be like this? As much as she wants to learn more about what is bothering him, this is just another reminder that they are only close in the proximity of their bedroom doors and not much else. He used to be so sweet and vulnerable when they were younger but now—this odd mania, oscillating between trying to be gentle and downright sadistic.
“And you’re a snitch. It’s just booze, no need to get your little panties in a bunch.” He huffs before downing the drink in one large gulp. He slams the glass down on the counter so suddenly that Vanya jumps.
Hot tears prickle the edge of her vision as she watches him go, frozen in place. She can hear the slamming of his feet all the way from when he exits the parlor up until he slams his bedroom door.
Slowly, she comes back to herself. A short assessment of her pocket contents makes her sigh. Her pills are still somewhere in her room after last night’s events. She pinches the wet fabric between her fingers and groans in dismay—the possibility of facing Klaus again so soon is not something she wants to do.
Not wanting another confrontation but desperately needing a change of clothes, Vanya makes a beeline for the other set of stairs down to the basement level.
Everyone else should still be upstairs for their independent study, which makes it all the more surprising when she crashes into Allison on the final steps down to the laundry room. And because Vanya must be the universe’s favorite punching bag, the glass of water Allison was balancing spills down Vanya’s front, further soaking her all the way down to her socks. Allison looks shocked for half a second before composing herself, almost like she was getting ready to apologize before she realized it was just Vanya she had bumped into.
And then all at once it’s simply too much—the final straw and the floodgates open and Vanya starts crying as she rushes past her sister the rest of the way to the laundry room.
Why do these things keep happening? She’s sure Allison is already heading straight to the others to tell them how Vanya cried from just being bumped into. They already think she’s such a baby. Maybe she can spend the rest of the evening playing solitaire or something. It’s not like anyone would even notice.
Vanya takes off her jacket and throws it in the sink. She’s all but finished toeing off her shoes when she hears someone clearing their throat behind her. When she turns, she is surprised to see Allison standing in the threshold.
“I’m just getting a change of clothes,” Vanya says.
“I can see that,” Allison says, cautiously. She is still standing on the opposite side of the room and leans against the doorframe. “I didn’t mean to startle you. But to be fair, you kind of startled me, too.” She laughs, but it’s awkward. Vanya is in the process of removing her wet socks when Allison comes closer. “Sorry about the drink, though; at least it’s just water.”
Vanya nods quickly, not sure how to handle the concept of Allison apologizing. Allison is directly next to her now and wrinkles her nose, and Vanya feels her heart sink.
“Were you drinking Dad’s whiskey?” Allison asks her, scandalized and maybe—impressed?
“What? No!”
“Come on, Vanya, I know what alcohol smells like,” Allison admonishes.
“No, I mean—I swear I didn’t drink any of it. It just spilled.” She doesn’t want to be crying again so soon but her body doesn’t seem to agree. Her eyes blossom fat tears that turn Allison’s demeanor from berating to concerned.
“Okay, I believe that you weren’t drinking, but someone was. Who was it?” Allison asks, but it may as well be a rhetorical question. The words are too gentle, unnatural—fake and patronizing in a way different from Klaus’s earlier assessment of Vanya’s character.
A snitch, he called her. Regular old Vanya, the killjoy, baby, prude, snitch—
“No one,” Vanya lies.
“Oh my gosh. You are such a bad liar.” Allison laughs. The sound strikes Vanya to the core. “It was Klaus, wasn’t it?”
Great, Vanya thinks. She couldn’t even lie for five minutes. Now Klaus is going to think she told and he’ll be right—she really is a bad sister.
Her grip on her socks tightens, her hands forming fists in the knitted material to match the lump forming in her throat. It isn’t Vanya’s fault that Allison of all people was able to get the truth out of her so quickly, even without her rumors.
Vanya didn’t even do anything wrong! All she did was tell Klaus to put it back. Why couldn’t he just listen, for once? They all know they’re not supposed to touch Dad’s things—it doesn’t make sense why he has to keep pushing the limits of what would only inevitably get all of them in trouble.
“I told him to put it back but he wouldn’t listen,” she says, bottom lip trembling embarrassingly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him! Can’t you just make him stop?”
“You say that like I have any control over the idiotic choices Klaus makes.”
“Yeah, because you do,” Vanya insists, her own boldness surprising her. The air feels charged, like static prickling her from head to toe. “You can make him stop.”
“Vanya, it doesn’t work like that,” Allison says, like she doesn’t know who she is.
“Why not? Nothing ever stopped you from rumoring us before.” I heard a rumor it was your turn to wash the dishes—I heard a rumor I get the bathroom next—I heard a rumor— “This will actually be better for him. For all of us! He wasn’t this mean before he started stealing from Dad and you know it.”
The blood racing in her ears blocks all second thoughts from crossing her mind. Never before has she spoken back like this to anyone, let alone Allison—it is both exhilarating and terrifying.
Her sister rolls her eyes and scoffs but does not otherwise engage. Instead, she reaches into the laundry basket between them, pulling out a fresh pair of socks and a dress.
“There are limits,” she tells her.
“You think just because I don’t have powers that I don’t understand.” Vanya says, snatching the change of clothes. “Just admit you don’t want to do it and stop pretending to be nice.” She walks over to the privacy screen by the sinks to change and get away. Allison is just being selfish, after all. She only ever uses her powers for her own self gain but never when it would actually benefit the rest of them.
If Vanya had powers, she would use them to make everyone’s lives better, not worse.
“I don’t know what’s up with you, but my powers can’t fix everything. I wish they could, but they can’t.” Allison continues, “That goes for all of us, by the way.”
Vanya doesn’t say anything, just tosses her stained dress put to the side on a pile of dirty laundry.
“Klaus’s powers destroy him on a daily basis, Ben hates using his power, Luther has the world on his shoulders, Diego thinks he’ll never be good enough, and Five—” Allison cuts herself off with a sigh.
Vanya huffs, but she cannot maintain her façade. She sniffs once but finds her nose stuffed so she breathes in through her mouth, only for a high whine to crawl its way from her throat upon exhaling. She moves to grab her pills out of her pocket before she remembers she’s basically naked. She ends up clutching the clean dress, worrying it in her clenched fists.
“He won’t even talk to me,” she sobs. “He’s hurting and scared and I can’t do anything to help him. I’m useless.”
Before she realizes what is happening, Allison is behind the screen and embracing her while Vanya stands sobbing into her dress, in nothing but her underclothes. It only makes her cry harder.
“You’re not useless, Vanya. You’re our sister. Even if we don’t always act like it.”
“But Five won’t talk to me anymore and Klaus is so mean to me and you never invite me to do normal sister stuff with you.”
“You hate makeup,” Allison reasons.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to ask me,” Vanya whines.
Allison laughs at that and softly rubs her back in a motion that reminds Vanya of their mother. It’s soothing. She never realized Allison could have this effect on her.
As if remembering herself, Vanya takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” Vanya says, because she hates the silence.
“It’s fine,” Allison responds, holding her hands up in an appeasing manner and turns around, allowing Vanya to finish getting dressed.
When she’s done, Allison guides her to the sink where she helps dab her face with water and helps dry her face of her emotional display. Together, they work to wash the smell of alcohol from Vanya’s soiled clothing.
“I know this may not mean anything coming from me, but powers don’t fix everything. Rumors included,” Allison says. Vanya doesn’t really believe her, but she continues. “Even when I think I’m helping, I’m just making things worse.”
“Is that what happened last night?”
Allison looks at her. Really looks at her, in a way that Vanya can’t quite describe. Eyes focused and eyebrows pinched in scepticism but that feels like Allison is trying to read her mind. Then, her eyes refocus and soften.
“Change has to be conscious for it to mean anything. If I take away someone’s choice, there’s no way to know if what they do next is really up to them. It’s cheating. I’m just manipulating the situation to get what I want, but what I want isn’t even an option…” Allison trails off. She looks… sad. Vanya almost doesn’t recognize the person beside her. It’s hard to imagine something that Allison wants that is unobtainable.
“But you can get anything you want,” Vanya says.
Allison clears her throat and wipes at her eyes, composing herself once again. “I thought I just explained that things don’t work that way.”
“I wasn’t talking about your powers,” Vanya says. “You’re so strong. And smart. I’m sure whatever it is that you want, you’ll get it eventually. You can do anything, Allison.” There’s a brief silence again, but this one is not so bad. It’s spent comfortably, side by side with nothing but the sound of water sloshing at their hands.
“Look at us.” Allison laughs. “I guess we’re getting that sister bonding time after all.”
Vanya smiles.