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The first thing he saw when he was in the future was there's too much ash.
He felt it all over his clothes, crawling up his throat and into his lungs, suffocating him of any intelligent thought.
The first law of thermodynamics stated that energy could not be created nor destroyed, but simply transferred to another form. He always thought this as true, until he saw the scene before him. Was everything he learned all in vain? Was it too late for him and everyone else?
"Vanya?" He called out to the wasteland. No response.
"Ben? Dad? You guys there?" his voice was getting smaller. He hadn't felt this scared since.. ever. He was Number Five: teleporter, virtuoso, and now, hypothetical warped spacetime traveler. Scared wasn't on the list of qualities one used to describe him. But now, as he's gazing at his surroundings, he was fucking terrified.
Scrambling through the waste, he spotted an all-too-familiar building. A sigh of relief washed over his body. Finally, something he recognized. Clumsily making his way past the gate, he stared up at what remained of that building. His throat suddenly went dry, as though he'd swallowed sulfuric acid. He'd always dreamed of escaping that wretched place and that wretched man they called Father, and now that it's finally gone - he didn't want to find out the possibility.
His thoughts were interrupted with a sickening crunch below his left foot. Lifting his foot to inspect what made that noise, he drew back in horror. It was a hand. Not just any hand, Luther's hand.
No, it couldn't be. It wasn't possible! He dug furiously through the rubble, blood soaking his hands. Lo and behold, he saw Luther's face of acceptance. Acceptance that he was indeed going to die. Clawing around, he spotted several more bodies. No. No, no, no. It was just a one-way trip. He just wanted to see the future and go home. Maybe he could write a book about it one day. He wasn't expecting his this.
As he let out a guttural scream, he heard the last thing Father told him, replaying over and over in his head like a broken tape recorder: "Don't time travel, you'll get stuck." Stuck he was.
!!
"Five? What are you doing here?" whispered Vanya.
"I need to tell you something." There it was. His no-nonsense tone of getting straight to the point. Vanya stared back at him, unblinking.
"The door was open, you could have just knocked like a normal person." Vanya grinned down at him. Five chuckled softly. Normal. Was that what they were? They got into this shitty life of fighting crime and listening to orders until the only thoughts they had were Father's. Normal wasn't a word used to describe their family.
"I need to tell you something." he repeated his sentence once more, his voice urgent. Vanya sensed this and ushered him in, closing the door quietly behind her.
"What is it, then?" she asked, searching for any signs of despair on his face. (They were masked by his smug outlook, like a solution within a question.)
Five tensed in the dark. "When I was lost in time, I, er, found something," He paused for a millisecond, before continuing. "I was in the future, in this year, actually. And I found -" he shook his head, trying to forget the grisly images. The last thing he needed were painful memories and concerned siblings. "The world's going to end. In eight days."
Vanya stared back at him, wearing an expression that even he couldn't recognize. Was it confusion? Fear? Or worse, acceptance for her impending fate? "๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด, ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ." He hoped that was true.
"I'll make us some coffee." said Vanya, before rising from her seat.
!!
"๐๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ข?" ๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ณ, ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐๐ฐ๐ป๐ข๐ณ๐ต'๐ด ๐๐บ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐บ ๐ฏ๐ฐ.40 ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข ๐ด๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ญ๐ต.
"๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ต, ๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ?" ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ, ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐บ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข๐ฏ๐น๐ช๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด.
"๐๐ฆ'๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ, ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ข, ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ'๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ข๐ง๐ฆ," ๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ถ๐ณ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ, ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฆ๐บ๐ฆ๐ด. "๐๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ."
๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ท๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด๐ญ๐บ ๐ต๐ข๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ, ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ข๐จ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ญ ๐ด๐ค๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ. ๐๐ด ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ ๐ข๐ด ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฎ๐ข๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐บ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ค๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ช๐ณ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ค๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ด. "๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ต ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด, ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ข! ๐๐ด๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ช๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ข๐ถ๐ต๐ช๐ง๐ถ๐ญ?"
๐๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ข ๐จ๐ข๐ด๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฅ. ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ด ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ค๐ข๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ณ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ณ. ๐๐ถ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ณ'๐ด ๐ฆ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐๐ช๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฏ'๐ด ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ญ๐ข, ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ข๐ญ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ท๐ช๐ต๐บ, ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ด๐ค๐ณ๐ข๐ธ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ธ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ด. ๐๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข๐ด ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ต๐ข๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ข๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ด๐บ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฆ๐ด.
"๐๐ต'๐ด ๐ข๐ฎ๐ข๐ป๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ, ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ต ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ?"
๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ณ๐ถ๐จ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ญ๐บ. "๐๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ต๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ง๐ช๐จ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต! ๐ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ ๐ข๐ค๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฏ ๐ข๐ด ๐'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ!"
๐๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ข ๐ด๐ฎ๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ต ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฅ๐ญ๐บ. "๐ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฅ๐ฐ ๐ช๐ต." ๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐จ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ค๐ฌ.
"๐๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ข๐บ, ๐ธ๐ฆ'๐ญ๐ญ ๐จ๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ, ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ฆ. ๐๐ฆ'๐ญ๐ญ ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ต๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ๐จ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ, ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐บ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ญ ๐ธ๐ฆ'๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฐ ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ. ๐ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ช๐ด๐ฆ."
๐๐ข๐ฏ๐บ๐ข ๐จ๐ช๐จ๐จ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ต ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต. "๐๐ฉ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ? ๐๐ฉ๐บ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐๐ถ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ, ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐๐ช๐ฆ๐จ๐ฐ, ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐๐ฆ๐ฏ?" ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฃ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐ข๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฎ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ข ๐ด๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ.
๐๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ด๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐บ ๐ด๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ, ๐ข๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข๐ด๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐ง 2 ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ 1. "๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ญ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ."
!!
Of all the stupid decisions that he made, cutting a deal with the Handler was the worst of them all. Dolores must be disappointed in him.
Now he was in the Commission bathroom, figuring out how to allow the Hindenburg disaster to happen. (Actually, he figured that out thirty minutes ago. He was actually figuring out how to delay the apocalypse without the Handler breathing down his neck.)
Dutifully ignoring the annoying colleague who kept bugging him to have lunch with the others, he bided his time by stealing the folder out of said annoying colleague's desk and read it thoroughly. It was until he felt a presence next to him when he slid the folder up his shirt.
"I've seen you've done your work, Number Five," she spoke, her tone cloyingly sweet. He knew that was far from the truth. "You know, you can spend the rest of your life here. You belong here, and you know it."
"Yeah, I suppose I do." he suppressed a grimace as he smirked to himself.
"Are you hungry? We can have lunch in my office," Peering down at him, she added, "My treat." She winked at him before she burst open the door, hearing her heels clicking along the hallway.
"Some lunch." he muttered to himself whilst shuddering inwardly. He scribbled down some notes before joining her in her office. He didn't want to raise suspicion. Yet.
!!
When he was stuck in the apocalypse, he learned that counting to infinity would help calm him down. "Think of the numbers, 5," he would often remind himself. "It's a perfect system of 9s, oh so perfect." Whenever he thought of his siblings' dead bodies, he focused on the 9s until all that was in his head would be the pre-defined concept of infinity instead of the blood (there was too much).
It doesn't work all the time, though. Some days, he would wake up screaming but no one came. (Why would no one come?) Some days, he would cry into Delores's shoulder, listening to her soothing voice, or his perception of it. And some days (and those were really rare), he would think of Vanya and Ben and Klaus and the others, living life as usual. Obla-di, obla-da. He couldn't care less about the old man, but he just wanted to see his siblings weary not from fighting, but from a night of partying or studying.
He counted all the way to infinity once more, but this time, he mentioned all six of his siblings (because he didn't want to forget them when he got back).
!!
"You know what, guys? I think I'm going to just stay out on this one. I've been sober for two days and I think it's really starting to get to me-"
Diego simply hurled a knife in his direction. Five raised an eyebrow in response. "So, you coming with us, or not?"
Klaus grumbled the whole way. "I just don't understand why you even need me! What do you want me to do, summon up some dead guy, or worse, Dad, and ask them about the apocalypse? 'Oh, pardon my French, but how does the world end?' Last I checked, you two had the long end of the stick in terms of powers, so you sort this one out yourselves!"
"Klaus, so help me God, if you don't shut up right now, I'll make sure that I never miss next time. Got it?" growled Diego as he slammed the door shut.
"Straight people, am I right?" he chuckled, nudging Five with his elbow. He shook his head as if to say 'not now'. Klaus got the hint. Just when he was about to push past the already open gate, Five called out after him.
"Say, Klaus, can you see Ben?"
Klaus paused and turned around. "What did you just say?" whispered Klaus in a dangerously low tone.
"Ben. I know he's dead, mainly because Vanya mentioned it in her book. Managed to grab a copy."
"Y-yes I can. Actually, he's here right now. Why?" he asked, eyes narrowed at him.
"No, it's not a joke of some kind. I just want to tell him that I love him, and I-I'm really sorry for leaving."
Klaus's face softened, and for a second, he could see Ben smiling at him. So this was what happy felt like. He needed more of this.
"Anyway," his face hardened, "We need to stop the apocalypse. Come on, let's see what Harold Jenkins has to tell us."
As he headed into the house, he heard Klaus telling Ben everything, word for word. The thought made him smile.
!!
He was wrong. Staring at his equations once more, his frustration grew. How could he not see this? It was an anomaly, a constant that threw off the balance. Harold was simply the fuse and Vanya was the ticking bomb watching, waiting.
Glancing at his sister from the seats, he saw his sister finally get the spotlight for once. Not Luther, not Diego, her. He felt every note, every rest, every tempo, it all contained the hurt buried for 26 years. Gone was the girl who prepared peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches when he would have a bad day, in her place was the harbinger of the apocalypse, the one who wrecked his family in the first place.
"Okay guys, I go on the right, Diego goes on the left, and you two go from the front. When I give my cue, we surround her. Got it?" shouted Luther, quiet enough not for her to hear.
Waiting for the rest to take their positions, he remembered that people were congruent to chemical reactions. The tension was there, the lack of love was present too. Ostracization? Check. Time spent in an underground chamber? Hell yes. Harold was the catalyst that sped up the reaction, but he got harmed in the process, so there's that. Could he change anything? Maybe spend time with her more, include her in missions, show her that, yes, they did love her. That was all she wanted anyway. But it was too late. He was always too late.
"Now!" Luther shouted. He ran alongside Luther and Diego as they wrenched her from her violin. Suddenly, he felt a force pull him back. Tugging him by the collar, he stared at a smirking Vanya as she continued with her solo.
"Vanya, please. I didn't mean to leave you for so long. I would have taken you with me. If we stop this, I can take you with me. We can travel to any decade and century like we've always wanted until we're old and gray." He heard himself say, but the words wouldn't come.
"Old and gray," she murmured slowly, a smile dawning upon her face. The shot followed after.
"Is she still breathing?" asked Luther, a worried expression on his face. Five knelt down, feeling for a pulse.
"Yes, she's still alive." he sighed in relief.
"Uh, guys?" said Klaus. "Is a moon rock supposed to hit the Earth, or is it just me?"
No. No, no, no. Pacing up and down in despair, he could hear the Handler laughing at him. He failed. It wasn't supposed to end this way. They were the Umbrella Academy, they could do this! Wild-eyed, he faced the rest of the group.
"I can travel through time again," he spoke, "But this time, you're coming with me."
"Have you even done this before?" asked Diego.
"No, but it's worth a shot."
As they all gathered around, Vanya and Ben included, he held out a silent plea that this, this suicide mission, worked. He just couldn't bear to lose his family once again.