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Since the day that Ben had visited him in the library for the first time, they had taken to-- well, Ben would call it hanging out-- there. As much as Five hates the word choice and its inherent ambiguity, he supposes that it is appropriate.
It’s good for him, Delores frequently reminds him. To spend time with another person-- another human person-- in a non-directive way. “No action, just relaxing,” Ben had said, wiggling his eyebrows. Five had shoved him out of his chair, of course, but he understands the sentiment. He’s not naive.
He knows that re-adapting to the non-apocalyptic world has been… a struggle, for him, in some regards. And he knows why. So he can’t argue with Delores. It is good for him, this quiet time with his brother, where they can exist in silent swathes of time, still in each others presence, broken only by the occasional, and, he must admit, enjoyable fragments of conversation. It’s a gradual reintroduction of sorts for Five, to the world and to the brother that he had unwittingly lost.
Which is why it annoys him so much when someone knocks on the library door.
He and Ben are sprawled comfortably at the table they’ve seemed to implicitly claim over these past two weeks; Ben isn’t corporeal today, as he frequently isn’t when he has no reason to be and it’s not worth draining Klaus’s power over. But he still sits at the table, or pretends to, feet up even though Five has been very clear that it irritates him. They’ve been reading a new book together, one from Ben’s wish list, and though Ben has a reading speed to almost rival Five’s, he’s been reading in his spare time too, so they stay caught up together. It’s peaceful.
Or rather, it had been.
At the knock, Ben looks up, caught off guard and startled, before blinking out of sight with a frown. Five is well used to that by now, so he only spares a second to glance at the empty space before he calls out, “I’m over here.”
To his surprise, it’s Vanya who rounds the shelves. She makes her way to the table haltingly, footsteps light and gaze trained on the ground. Five frowns.
“Are you alone?” Vayna asks, eyes flitting up to glance around the space. Five shrugs. He assumes so. Ben has been clear that he does not take advantage of his relative invisibility to infringe upon the family’s privacy. Five is not yet clear on why Ben disappears at all-- other than knowing that Ben hasn’t yet made his formal introductions to every member of the family-- but Five hasn’t asked him about it.
It’s not his business, after all, and Five likes his business respected so he extends the same courtesy.
Vanya nods, as if the shrug was a sufficient answer. Perhaps it was. “I was hoping we could talk,” she says.
He inclines his head. He bites his tongue on a what could we possibly have to say to each other, because he knows that’s not really what he wants to say. Vanya has made great strides in improving her confidence and mastering her powers since the day that never happened, but she’s still Vanya: soft, and shy, and taking up as little space as her bony frame can manage. How can he say no to her?
At his terse nod, she sits awkwardly. “What are you reading,” she asks.
“A book,” Five answers, and he realizes that it’s come out more cutting than he intended when she flinches. Ah, he has to be more careful with her. “A book on the structure and function of the human brain,” he clarifies reluctantly.
Vanya looks at the cover and nods. “I read a lot of books like that, after--”
She pauses, and he raises an eyebrow. He wouldn’t be curious, really, except for the way that she’s looking at him. She looks alarmed, almost, and that wakes something protective in Five, something that wants to soothe against his better judgment.
So he waits, and she relents. “After you left,” she finishes.
Five crosses his ankles; he doesn't remember seeing that in her memoir. “Why would you do that?”
She shrugs. “To make sense of things, I guess.” It’s all she offers.
He’s not sure that he understands. Or at least, he’s not sure that he understands all of what she’s saying, and all of what she’s not saying, apparent in the way that she’s alternately examining his expression and her own hands. She pulls her flannel sleeves down further over her fingers to keep from picking at them.
After a moment, he takes a stab at it. “I didn’t mean to leave, you know,” he says. She looks up, startled, and smiles in a way that makes him feel pitied.
“I know.”
There’s a heavy silence, then. Frankly, he hadn’t missed those. The world that he’d lived in for forty-five years was a type of silent that he hadn’t known could exist, but it was rarely this heavy. Silences in conversations are rarely an empty silence, Five has noticed.
“I feel stupid saying this,” Vanya starts, wetly. Five sits on his hands so he won’t grab his butter knife. She shouldn’t be calling herself that, she shouldn’t. “Because, I mean, I’m an adult now, and I know that it only makes sense. That I had to leave the academy, eventually. But part of me feels like I have to apologize, Five, for giving up on you.” For the first time since she arrived, she meets his eye.
He looks down. Tries to make sure his voice comes out clearly and steadily. “I don’t want your apologies.”
He doesn’t. The thing about apologies is that-- well, once someone starts making them, sometimes everything unravels.
“I understand.” Vanya nods shakily. He thinks maybe she does. “I just-- when you first got back here, landed here, whatever, the first thing you did was make one of those stupid sandwiches, just like I knew you would.”
He bites back the urge to argue that the sandwiches aren’t stupid, either, and are one of the only memories that he could still practically taste in that world, one of the only things that-- well.
He contemplates leaving. Popping back just long enough to drop her own book in her lap. He knows how much pain his leaving caused her. But this conversation is his fault, and, Delores's voice reminds him, sometimes other people need to say things aloud directly. So he waits and listens.
To his utter horror, she wipes a tear off of her chin. “But I’d stopped making them for you, years ago. I knew you’d want one when you came home and yet…” Her eyes go a little glassy as she stares at something on the table. “I just stopped.”
“You were under no obligation to feed me when I returned, Vanya. I’m perfectly capable of making myself a sandwich.”
She laughs, for some reason. It’s such a surprisingly familiar noise that he forgets to be annoyed.
“I know,” she says. “It’s funny though, it always felt almost superstitious to me, you know?” He doesn’t know, not really, and besides, funny is such a complicated word, isn’t it? But he nods anyways. “Like a little kid leaving Christmas lights on when they go to a hotel, so that Santa can still find them. I told everyone that I just didn’t want you to think we’d forgotten about you, which was true, but. I also thought that it might-- well, draw you back to us, somehow. But--” she shakes her head, “-- when I moved into my new place, I thought that I should make one for you, you know, to draw you there, instead. It only felt right. But then I got embarrassed and I… thought better of it.”
Five tries to smile reassuringly. “I would’ve been worried about you if you hadn’t,” he teases.
Her head droops, but her smile looks more natural, so he thinks it was effective. “I should’ve known you’d eventually come back.”
And really, that’s enough of that. As Vanya drifts into a guilty silence, Five pulls himself up by his bootstraps, trying not to grimace as he reaches for Vanya’s hand. Physical touch is still so hard-- and he knows why, he understands why-- but his little sister needs him.
She startles at the touch and then settles when he doesn’t let go, exhaling loudly. “Anyways,” she says. “That’s all I wanted to say. I just missed you.”
I missed you more. He can’t say the words back. They stick on his tongue, somehow, and although he hates himself for it, he can’t seem to change it. So instead he asks, “The others? Were they supportive?” He knows they weren’t. But she needs to say it aloud.
She pulls her hand back from his gently, and tucks it back into her sleeve. It occurs to him to wonder why they haven’t had this conversation sooner.
“We all tried,” she explains. “As much as, you know, all of us could really. But when Ben died too, I guess I lost two siblings that day.”
“Klaus,” Five says, because it couldn’t be anyone else.
She nods in confirmation. “The funny thing is, though, I didn’t realize until then that I’d-- well, I lost more than you too when you left.” She pauses. Breathes. “I think I lost myself.”
And fuck, that hurts.
Five is fifty-eight years old and hasn’t cried since he was four, but the burning in his eyes tells him that that streak is about to be broken. There’s a heavy settling of guilt into his stomach; her words have lurched it free of his throat and gravity took it to his gut. His stomach hurts. It’s worse than food poisoning.
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. It feels like a confession. There are tears in his eyes now, he knows, and he blinks them away furiously. But still the words scrape past his throat. “I didn’t mean to leave. I swear I didn’t.”
“Oh, Five, no,” Vanya chides softly. She takes his hand, this time. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I didn’t mean to upset you!, he wants to yell back. But he can’t, he can’t. A fifty-eight year old world-traveling assassin, reduced to a pre-verbal child.
He can’t say anything, because he can’t fix this, and that’s worse than anything.
But then he has an idea.
“Excuse me,” he mutters, pulling his hand back quickly as the world disappears in a flash of blue.
--
He drops into Klaus’s bedroom, hitting the floor with a practiced crouch. Klaus doesn’t even flinch.
“Brother dearest?” he intones, lifting a single eyebrow. He’s sprawled across his childhood bed, knitting needles in his hands, the beginnings of what appears to be a scarf pooled on his chest. He is, shockingly, dressed in regular clothes, in soft gray track pants that can’t possibly be his if only for the way they barely reach his ankles, and a thick green sweater that actually looks warm.
He looks comfortable. Easy, in a way that Five hasn’t seen often since they were children, but is growing used to seeing in the past couple of weeks. He wants to tell Klaus something-- that he looks good, maybe, or that Five is proud-- but he’s here with a purpose, not to chat.
Five crosses his arms. “I need you to call Ben back.”
Klaus barely glances up from his knitting. “Ben is sitting on the chair.”
“Oh.” Five blinks. “Great. I need you downstairs,” he tells the chair. “Preferably corporeal, but minimally visible.”
Ben, predictably, doesn’t reply. The demand is not necessarily aimed at him in the first place. But Klaus doesn’t reply either, so Five snaps his fingers. “Klaus, now.”
Klaus sighs. He takes a long moment to gently put down his knitting, arranging the needles side by side, before rousing himself. He cracks his back as he sits up. “Ahh, that’s nice.”
Five thinks longingly of the knife he left in the library. He’s got another one hidden in the hallway, but he’s not prepared for those questions right now.
“Klaus!”
“Alright, alright, why are your panties in such a blazing knot?” Klaus asks, snorting as he laughs to himself. He looks to the chair. “C’mon Ben, that was funny! Points for creativity? Okay, no then. Whatever.” He cracks his fingers, making his tattoos visible for a moment as he pulls his palms outward. “Alright, you ready, buddy?”
There’s a murderous moment when Five assumes that Klaus has called him buddy, but then blue light starts glowing over the chair, and he realizes that he’s getting what he asked for. Thank fuck.
In a moment Ben appears, blinking as his eyes seem to adjust to reality. “What’s up?”
“Come downstairs,” Five says instead of an answer, because Vanya is waiting and he doesn’t have time for this, goddammit.
Fortunately, Ben is a better brother than Klaus, because he hops up quickly. “Where are we going?”
Five doesn’t answer. Ben will see in a minute either way. And if Five’s understanding is correct-- which is usually is-- then Ben will know what to do when they get there.
But then something else occurs to him. Or someone else, rather. Someone else that Vanya had mentioned.
He stops in the door, turning back and ignoring it when Ben walks right into him. Klaus is back to his knitting, humming merrily and out of tune. Five sighs. “You’re coming.”
Klaus looks up, taken aback.
“Little old me?” he asks, but even Five can tell from the grin that’s forming across his face that he’s beyond pleased to be included. Five pinches his nose. He’ll need a cup of coffee the size of a toaster, after this.
“Yes, you. Now, please.”
“Well, since you asked nicely,” Klaus says brightly, at the same time that Ben says “sure thing chicken wing.”
Five hates his family.
A minute later, once they’ve walked down too many stairs to count (though Five has counted, actually. There are 48) they arrive back at the library, and Five rethinks his vehemence. Because Vanya is still sitting there at her spot at the table, staring vaguely at the seat where Five had left, like she’s not been dismissed from class and isn’t sure if she’s allowed to leave.
It’s pathetic. It only makes Five more convinced of what he’s about to do.
“Vanya,” he says, projecting his voice as soon as he’s close enough for her to see him. She swivels her head over, clearly surprised that he’s entering on foot and not the way that he left. “Meet Ben.”
“Meet--?” Her face scrunches up. “Who--” And then she sees him, and she freezes.
Five smiles. His work here is done.
He’s about to conjure himself a portal to leave again when a sudden grip on his arm stops him. It’s Klaus, if he recognizes those long, spindly finger. “You need to be here for this,” Klaus whispers. It’s far too close to his ear, warm and wet, and Five rips himself out of his grip with a warning huff.
But he does let his powers fizzle out, relaxing the hum around his fingers.
“Ben. What--”
“Am I doing here?” Ben finishes. He smiles nervously, stepping forward. “Klaus did it.” Beside Five, Klaus takes a dramatized bow.
Vanya beams. “I knew that you were here-- have been here-- of course, since you saved everyone--” she cuts herself off, as she always does when she accidentally approaches the topic of the day that she destroyed the earth. “But I didn’t think...”
This time, Ben takes uncharacteristic initiative, seemingly unable to stop himself from bounding the remaining steps to the table. Vanya rises as he reaches her and they meet in the middle as he scoops her into his arms, and she laughs as her toes skim off the ground.
“You’re so tall!” she squeals. Her expression softens as he lowers her. “I forgot how tall you were.”
Ben grins. “You haven’t grown at all,” he tells her. (He is in fact correct. Vanya looks quite different now than she did as a child, but she’s the only one who’s height Five had still been familiar with when he arrived at this time period. She was tall as a child but then, it seems, she stopped growing. Five likes to think that they have that in common in a perverse sort of way).
Vanya laughs again and it’s the most beautiful sound in the whole world which isn’t fair, really. Klaus giggles and Ben takes the longest exhale Five has heard since he’s been back, so they must agree.
“Not to break up the moment,” Klaus interrupts, hands in the air, “but why am I here? I don’t need to be here to conjure Benny-bear, you know.”
Five looks to Vanya to explain and she looks up, making eye contact with him across the room. Her smile is private, only for him, and he understands that she’s grateful.
So he doesn’t roll his eyes. And he softens his tone just slightly, as he turns his pointer finger onto Klaus. “You,” he scolds, “have neglected our sister. And you--” He turns to Ben, who puts a hand over his chest like he didn’t expect to be accused, which, yeah, right. They’re all fuel to Five’s protective indignation. “You need to stop hiding like a coward from the people that love you. And all of you,” he adds, still simmering but beginning to feel tired again, a bone-weary exhaustion from socializing that he’s come to expect since he got home, “probably need to, hug, or something. So I fixed it. And now I’m leaving.”
He won’t pretend that he’s not proud of himself for the smile on Vanya’s face. But he feels wrong standing here, a spectator that doesn’t belong, as he watches Klaus flutter over to her, wrapping her and Ben together with his long spindly arms.
Five’s job is done, right?
Klaus growls.
“Get over here, you repressed weirdo,” Ben says, muffled into Vanya’s head.
Five frowns. “That’s not nice,” he protests. There’s a small chance he also might be buying time. Of course he won’t be part of their ridiculous group hug, but why doesn’t he want to leave? He could in a second, and yet--
“Please, Five?” Vanya pipes up, voice small and hopeful, and fuck it, he’s screwed.
“Nobody touch my hair,” he commands. It’s the last thing that he’s able to say before Klaus’s surprisingly strong grip draws him forward and he’s smushed between Ben’s back and Klaus’s arm, one hand throw over Vanya’s shoulder, which may have been of his own volition. Not that he’d admit that.
But Vanya’s tears this time are happy, so, he supposes he’ll put up with it. At least until he starts to sweat.
He didn’t know group hugs were this warm.