Work Text:
Reginald Hargreeves, multimillionaire and entrepreneur, at the news of those miraculous and incomprehensible births went on to offer money so he could get his hands on a maximum of them. It could be said most of them refused - or the babies didn't make it before Mr. Hargreeves came but some accepted to be freed from the burden of those mostly unwanted birth. In the end, eight babies were bought and taken to live in a singular mansion in America.
From their first day inside this house to every moment passed with someone as strange and cold as Reginald Hargreeves, the children learned of their strange upbringing and their purpose: to save the world. From what, Hargreeves never told them. Just that they were special and they needed to harness their powers.
Perhaps this would have been better if they all had powers but N°7 and herself, N°8 were as ordinary as the people walking in the street, the people they needed to protect from the end of the world. And for a four years old to be put aside from their more gifted siblings, it left the two little girls with only each other for support.
N°8 grew up trying to imitate her brothers in a state of utter stubbornness even as N°1 tried not to get their father's ire for spending his time doing something useless like that and N°2 was too dangerous for her liking, with his sharp knife and sharper tongue. N°5 was perhaps not as strong but his ability to teleport gave him an unfair advantage. N°6 didn't quite want to do anything with her because he could hurt her if he wasn't too cautious. N°4 was scared of something she couldn't comprehend so she mostly avoided him and N°3 had once used her power on her sister so N°8 avoided anything power related with her.
It often resulted in her joining her other sister, N°7 to play pretend somewhere in the house or find the least boring book in the library. Until N°7 caught interested in learning the violin to drown herself into the music, spending her time in her room.
At eight with the others either training in a part of the house and N°7 playing violin by herself in her room, it left N°8 with nothing to do but let her imagination wander and play by herself. Running around in a less lived part of the mansion - where she knew Mom already cleaned so she wouldn't have anyone bothering her, brandishing a ladle as sword as she fought against invisible enemies. The music of N°7 was faint but a great addition to her adventure.
N°8 was so caught up into jumping and swinging her ‘weapon’ that she didn't realize she was close to the stairs until she nearly tumbled down, catching herself at the last minute. She sighed in relief before righting herself up… and that is how it happened.
Her foot caught on the ladle, on the floor where she had abandoned it to get her hands on the railing and she felt herself slide backwards, her tiny hands ripped from the railing by gravity. The descent hurt, the stairwell long and unforgiving.
There was a loud crack at the end of her fall. And darkness.
She woke up with a scream, her neck filled with static and refusing to turn as much as she wanted to. Tears streamed down her face as she quickly got up on her feet and ran where she knew Mom was, crying with a frenzy that was hard to calm down. Ushed reassurances and cups of warm milk, warm embraces and the concern of her siblings helped in calming 8 down from her panic and she felt ridiculous telling them she bumped her head hard, blacked out and had a terrible, horrible dream. Their relief over her explanation made snakes of shame wring inside her tummy.
The kink in her neck and the black and white landscape she could still see whenever she closed her eyes made her feel worse but she needed this as well.
Telling them she broke her neck and died would only stir more bad news than her little lie. Most of all, she was scared of having their father's attention on her so suddenly. Leaving it to the others was better.
---
At thirteen she had the displeasure of watching from the sidelines as her siblings went on and got famous, saving people and getting known all over the world as the Umbrella Academy. She liked to imagine N°7 being as bitter and perhaps jealous as she was from being reduced from “ordinary sibling” to nonexistent as Reginald Hargreeves presented N°1 through 6 but never acknowledged the last two children.
At fourteen she had the displeasure of seeing N°5 disappear from the house and from their life after an argument with their father about time travel. She didn’t quite get the explanation Reginald gave him but she never pretended to be smart. She just felt worried as N°5 was never seen or heard again, the atmosphere of the house growing more tense than before.
They chose names shortly after and she had hesitated between a short name or something long, convoluted that could leave an impression but she finally settled on something simple. Something soft. Lynn. It made her happy. Only her siblings, Pogo and Mom called her like that and it felt right.
At fifteen she knew her second death after eating in secret cakes she was allergic to, wanting at least know the taste of it. It was slower than her first and she had the displeasure of having Klaus hover over her with a strange expression on his face for the next two days but she had felt satisfied with her curiosity.
And then… at sixteen.
Ben’s death. The original denial at the news. The simple, brown casket that was deceiving. The public mourning. She has waited several days for Ben to knock on her door to ask if she wanted to play chess with him. She perhaps alienated Diego and Allison because of it. But it was when Klaus - Klaus who could see dead people, Klaus who was popping pretty pills to drown it out, told her Ben wanted her to stop wasting her time that she got angry.
Not at Klaus but at the world. At the superior being that created them, gave them their powers but took the life of her brother when hers seemed hilariously stagnant.
She fought herself for several days before caving. She went to Luther’s room when he was absent and took his biggest bag, filling it with every one of her belongings she deemed important enough; and this same night she climbed down her window before walking to the other side of the city. Sleeping with a friend she made at the theatre, finding a job as tailor for the theatre group and making a life for herself helped her find a stable footing for herself. Sharing a small apartment, gaining her own money, taking her own choices in every matter, every day felt great.
She lost contact with her siblings, trying to stay low but she definitely remembered being caught by Allison when she went to one of her movie premiere, of Klaus suddenly being here when she went to a club - crying too, because she had perhaps missed him the most. She read Vanya’s book, feeling lost and ashamed at having to look at her sister’s own experience through all of their childhood and not keeping contact with at least her.
There were no news of Luther and Diego but whenever Klaus caught her, he shared news from everyone and somewhat she felt like she had never quite left the mansion.
So when she heard from the play director what a shame it was for Reginald Hargreeves to die so suddenly, she didn’t expect him to pop back from the dead as she was capable of - she had died several times between leaving the mansion and struggling to convince herself she shouldn’t go back to see if it was true. She had quite the fear it was a prank of sort but Reginald Hargreeves had never been one to joke around. She didn’t know how to feel about it. Didn’t know how her siblings would react to her walking home after so many years without much news.
But she was tired of being afraid of this uncertainty. Her father was dead and this called for a family reunion.