Chapter Text
Number Five was sitting at the kitchen island picking at the breakfast that Grace had made him when Allison walked into the room. From the expression on her face, he knew that she was about to say something that he did not want to hear. Was she going to comment on the fact that it was already one in the afternoon and he had just rolled out of bed? He had heard that one enough times to last him for the rest of his life, and he swore his sister was obsessed with the concept of motherhood. The effect that giving birth had had on her psyche truly amazed him, but he didn’t have the patience to be the subject of her bizzare desire to be a parent right now. Claire was gone. He was too old and too tired to be her replacement child. Just as he was standing to leave the room, however, Luther walked in. This was not shaping up to be a good morning. He could feel it before his brother even started to speak.
“Five, we have an announcement to make,” Luther said. He hadn’t used that phraseology since he had, along with Allison, accused Grace of poisoning Reginald. Five put down his coffee and stared impatiently at Luther, who seemed to bask in the attention, waiting for almost ten seconds before resuming his statement, “A truancy officer came to the house today. Apparently, by not sending you to school, we’re in violation of something called a Compulsory Education Law. I tried to tell them that you were homeschooled, but I guess for some reason it matters that none of us have an education degree or an online… class thing, or whatever, for you.”
Allison dove in before Five could do that infuriating thing that he always did. Had always done, even when they were all kids. The classic snarky response. “There are options, Five, so don’t lash out at us. We know you’re an adult and your birth date information proves it, so we can fight this if you want, or you can try to test for your GED. Now, it might take a few months to fight it in the courts, and even then you won’t have a formal education and you won’t be able to go to college. We’d have to get your death certificate reversed.. Or whatever it is that they call it when they make someone stop being legally dead, and then somehow prove that you’re actually as old as your birth certificate says you are, but if that’s what you want, we can try --" she started to make an attempt at explaining the situation.
Both expectedly and unexpectedly, Five interrupted, “Maggie has been saying it would be a good idea for me to socialize with those my physical age. I don’t think she believes that I’m actually fifty-eight, but I still think she might have a point... I want a doctorate and I likely will not be able to get one without schooling.” He had only been going to therapy for about six weeks, but at the end of every session he was implored to reach out to his ‘peers’. His therapist didn’t seem to understand that he had none. In mind, the closest thing to a peer for him was a sixty year old war criminal, but that wasn’t the kind of person that Maggie wanted him connecting to. She meant normal thirteen year old boys. 'Kids like him'. Still, Maggie did have a lot of good advice - poorly delivered and naiive as it could be at times.
His other three living siblings and his not-so-living sibling had been listening from outside the kitchen the entire time. Five noticed this when he heard Klaus laughing, no, snickering. Vanya knew that they were caught and she stepped in, lingering next to the cut-out in the wall that served as a door with a sympathetic expression on her face. Klaus was still caught-up in the humor of it all. A man of nearly sixty who had committed more murders than the rest of them put together going to.. what was it? Middle school? It was the most insane thing he had ever heard. Diego looked incredulous, sticking his head in the door but not daring to actually walk in. “Five’s actually agreeing to this?” He couldn’t help but ask.
Five understood the confusion. He himself was surprised when the words came out of his mouth. He couldn’t imagine being surrounded with grimy eleven to thirteen year olds for eight hours of his day five days per week - though he supposed it wasn’t that much unlike his previous career. Temporal assassins, for the large part, were disgusting boneheads. Five was used the company of idiots, but having to pretend that he was actually the age he looked would be a challenge for him.
- - -
Flash forward to later that afternoon. Five was out with all of his siblings. They’d taken the unfortunate mini-van that his brother Luther had bought in a lapse of judgement that Five would never be able to understand. Not that he had tried much. They were in a store the likes of such Five had not seen in nearly fifty years shopping for school clothing for him. He’d yet to enroll, but even he knew that his uniform was not appropriate for the situation. Something Five would never tell his siblings: he did kind of care what he wore. At least, he was tired of wearing what he had worn before everything happened. It felt wrong and backwards, an absolute denial of everything that he had done, been through, and accomplished. He had worked as an assassin for three years, spent forty-two years in an apocalyptic wasteland by himself and saved the world. Someone who had done all of that was not supposed to dress in a school uniform for a school that didn’t exist, wasn’t a school. His lack of scars made it hard enough.
Long gone were the remains of his chemical burns, the missing tip of his right ear from the first time he had tried to cut his hair, the permanent ridges in his lips, and the thick jagged line down the center of his kneecap.There were so many ways that Five wasn’t himself, things that no one but him could see, so he wanted to change in at least one small respect. Few things he could control, but his wardrobe at least was one of them. He had been standing in between the men’s section and the boys’ section, right in the middle of the store, lost in these thoughts. Five didn’t know which direction to go, or if it even mattered. Being caught between two lives was a bitch.
“Five?” He heard a concerned voice call. The teenage man - not man child - looked around for the owner of those words and that concern. It was Klaus, of all people. “Five, are you okay?” Vanya was glaring at his brother for some reason and she said something he couldn’t hear. Whispered it to Klaus. He knew what she said without hearing it. I knew we shouldn’t have brought him here. He can’t handle it. You saw his file. He’s a fucked up kid. Of course, Vanya didn’t have the malice to use those words, but that was the jist of what she meant and he could not be convinced otherwise. Not that Five was going to bring it up. If he did, he would only make it look more true. He wasn’t supposed to care what people thought.
“Come on, you two,” Five told them as he turned toward the boys’ section, leaving them to follow with the cart. His clothing criteria were simple, but specific: no bright colors or pastels, no earth tones, no capris, no blazers, no dresses, no heels, no t-shirts. He went through the section piling in mostly dark colors, muted tones and neutrals. Jeans and slacks, sweaters and button-ups with various sleeve lengths, long-sleeved shirts and turtlenecks, khakis and dress shoes, Converse and Vans, jackets and hooded sweatshirts, autumn boots and spring boots, ties and hair gel. Simple and methodical was his process. He wasn’t entirely reinventing himself, keeping it mostly basic, though he did grab three or four more experimental pieces when no one was watching. Things to try out in the privacy of his room before deciding to wear in public. All Five knew was that the next week was going to be complete and utter mayhem, that he needed something to help him get through it. He couldn’t go to school drunk and coffee only did so much, so he thought maybe he could find ways to feel more comfortable in his skin while sober.
There was no choice. He had to commit to his new life now. His apocalypse-free life. This knowledge didn’t stop him from turning red and angry when the cashier called him a ‘nice young man’ and referred to Diego as his ‘father’, though.