Chapter Text
January 23, 2015
As I begin this journal, it has been three weeks since I first arrived on the moon, my latest mission for an undetermined amount of time. I must admit that the process thrilled me at first, as I was grateful to distance myself from the recent drama as a result of my sister Vanya's newly-published autobiography about growing up with all of us. Dad has said nothing about it, and I never asked. I’m just glad that I don’t have to see Diego and how pissed he must be, as well as Allison. Even though I do miss her, still.
And now, three weeks into this mission, I am already feeling the effects of isolation. I just need to remind myself that what I am doing now is useful, since my accident nearly three years ago.
I thought I had more to write, now. But I’ll have plenty of time for that, for however long I am here.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Luther Hargreeves closed the cover of his journal and put it on the nightstand next to the bed inside his confined lunar living quarters. He set the alarm for 23:15, half an hour before the sun would peak over the horizon, thus the start of each work "day" collecting field samples.
Luther pulled the covers, which barely reached past his chest. He sighed, still not wanting to accept what happened to him.
In 2012 Luther had been sent on a mission to avert a biochemical threat. He failed miserably. He remembered going to the site, took out two bad guys, and thought that he was in the clear. Apparently, there was another bad guy Luther hadn’t seen before. And that was when Luther felt an excruciating burning pain and quickly blacked out. He awoke in the infirmary, to his horror, looking much different --- and very gruesome. And he screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
His Dad, Mom and Pogo had all explained that they had no choice. Luther was dying, and the defibrillator was not effective. They had to use the serum. The result was that Luther survived, of course; but his upper body was transformed into that of an ape.
Luther had hated himself ever since.
But that was why Luther was grateful to be on the moon. This was not only his first mission since the accident, but Luther could now cross an item off his bucket list. It had been his lifelong dream to visit the moon, hence his Umbrella Academy codename, "Spaceboy." Now he was living here. And he was living alone, where nobody else could see him.
He still missed Allison.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"What the hell?!"
Allison had finally chosen the hour she would spend in the makeup chair to begin reading Vanya's autobiography. Of course, she had skipped through what Vanya had written about the other siblings, to see what dirt brought up that Allison would have to explain to the masses.
She was grateful that at least Vanya had never hinted of any suspicions about Allison's "relationship" with Luther. That would have been a bitch to explain to her husband and Love On Loan co-star, Patrick --- with whom she just had their first child, Claire --- let alone would have entirely fucked up her career. (If the first installment of this film indeed was a success, it would become a trilogy; and Allison would now use her power to ensure it would, after her sister pulled this bullshit.)
Instead, Allison was depicted to be the spoiled, entitled Alpha Female of the house, exerting her "authority" as Vanya's "older" sister. (Why?! They all were the exact same age!) Add insult to injury that according to Vanya, their flamboyant pansexual brother Klaus was more of a "little sister" to Allison than was Vanya. Allison was certain that went over well with Klaus (if he was even coherent enough to have even tried reading the book himself).
After reading about herself (or what Vanya thought of her, anyway), Allison skimmed through what Vanya had written about the others. Luther and Diego's constant bickering and competitiveness against each other and Klaus' descent into drug addiction were among the topics. Oh, and even though Number Five had supposedly been Vanya's "sole confidant," she had to throw in that he was arrogant, too. The only person about whom Vanya was completely civil in describing was Ben --- the one sibling who legitimately was killed.
When she had enough, Allison threw the book in the garbage. Not only did she no longer want to read such drivel, but she was done reliving the memories of her very complicated childhood.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At his boxing gym in the early evening, Diego was pulverizing the punching bag with the jacket of Vanya's hardback cover with her face taped to it, when his boss/landlord screamed from the front desk, "Hargreeves! Phone call!"
Diego gave one more blow to the punching bag before sauntering to the front desk. "Who is it?" Diego demanded, having been able to avoid the press since Vanya's autobiography was released nearly four months ago --- October 1, in fact; their fucking twenty-fifth birthday.
"Hell if I know! I ain't your damn secretary!" Al thrust the receiver into Diego's hand.
"Hello?"
"Diego Hargreeves?" A woman’s voice spoke.
"Yeah?"
"This is University Hospital," Diego felt his heart sink, knowing what would follow. Sure enough, the lady continued, "We have your name listed as an emergency contact for Klaus Hargreeves."
Diego braced himself for whatever might come next, even though he knew the routine.
"Your brother was admitted, but I’m afraid I cannot give out any further details over the phone."
Diego was right. "I’m on my way." He quickly slammed down the phone.
"Hey!" Al yelled as Diego started to take off. "Them damn bathrooms need cleaned!" Diego had an arrangement with Al that he would do general custodial work in exchange for living in the boiler room. That and the money he won in boxing matches was how Diego got by after having gotten kicked out of the Police Academy two years ago. That and having a criminal history of tampering with police investigations with his vigilanté work deemed it impossible for him to ever find a "real" job.
"My brother’s in the hospital." Without looking back Diego darted out the front entrance.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Diego parked his car outside the hospital and removed his knife harness; obviously, he would not get past security wearing it. After concealing it in the glove compartment, Diego sprang from the car and burst through the front entrance. After checking in with the receptionist, Diego followed an orderly to a waiting area. After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity to Diego, the door opened and a doctor emerged. "Diego Hargreeves?"
Diego shot up from his seat. "Yeah. Where is he?"
"Follow me, please." The woman, bearing a name tag that read, Dr. Davina Massey, PhD, led Diego through the door into the hospital corridor.
Diego had a gnawing feeling of dread in the pit of the stomach as he followed Dr. Massey to a private family room. Part of the drill. Next he would be advised of Klaus' condition. In the past it was primarily drug overdosing, or occasionally a good beating by a disgruntled john, or a bigot…or both.
After the door closed and the two were seated, Dr. Massey confirmed Diego's primary suspicion. "Your brother nearly died from a drug overdose. He went into cardiac arrest en route here, but thankfully, the EMT was able to revive him."
Diego let out a sharp breath. "So, how is he now?"
"He’s resting. We’ll keep him overnight for observation. But we need to discuss a plan for him following discharge."
"What do you mean?"
Dr. Massey sighed looked at him sternly. "Well, I’m grateful that your brother has legally allowed us to disclose his medical information, because otherwise I would not be able to relay what I am about to do so."
"What?" Diego asked impatiently. He hated it when people tried to delicately beat around the bush.
"Your brother was also treated for a similar episode here just three days ago," the doctor said.
Diego stared wide-eyed at the doctor. "What?"
"That time, he did not flatline and was conscious when he arrived, so you were not contacted then. But it was the same EMT who brought him in, as well as the same nurse who initially tended to him."
Diego sighed again. Shit. My brother’s worse off than I thought.
"I know that according to your brother’s medical records here, that your brother has had an extensive history of emergency services for drug abuse," Dr. Massey continued, "and I was wondering whether your brother might consider rehab."
Diego shook his head. "I don’t think so," he admitted. He knew that Klaus would never go for thirty days without drugs. Diego knew that was why Klaus had started drinking and smoking when they were thirteen, and he figured that Klaus had upgraded to hard drugs when they were fifteen or sixteen. Diego didn’t like it, but he knew it kept the ghosts at bay. Klaus had always been afraid of his power and the drugs suppressed them. Of course, Klaus' downward spiral escalated following their brother Ben's death (which was during a mission that did not include Klaus that day as he was recovering from an overdose then as well; another in which he had to be resuscitated, courtesy of Mom, for whom Diego was forever grateful). "I mean, to be honest, I would love that for him, but…." How could he tell this stranger that quitting drugs would be much more difficult for Klaus than the average person. Nothing about Klaus was average. Nothing about their family was average --- other than the one "sister" who just very recently publicly dragged the entire family name through the mud.
However, the doctor took one more direct look at him. "Okay. Normally this is where I give a supportive family member or advocate the lecture about tough love, and not enabling by making excuses. However, I do know of your history as childhood celebrities---"
"Then you probably also know why Klaus started drugs, if you read my adopted female sibling's book, and I don’t want to talk further about that," Diego said bitterly.
Dr. Massey paused. "I understand. And I realize that your brother is a unique case; but he is also a drug addict, and just like any addict, he is living a death sentence without treatment."
Diego sighed. "I know, but the other issue is, my brother doesn’t have medical insurance."
"Your brother is homeless, correct? There is no address listed for him."
Diego nodded sadly. He wished he could have Klaus stay with him, but Al would have pitched a fit if Klaus stayed there too long. Plus, after both Klaus and Diego left the Umbrella Academy mansion for good, Klaus had admitted he feared possibly taking advantage of Diego for a fix, and he didn’t want to damage their relationship accordingly. Diego had appreciated Klaus' honesty, which was why Diego always tried to look after him. And as Diego made connections and earned respect both in the boxing room and out on the streets; because Diego never needed their help in return (other than a couple of times that people willingly bailed Diego out of jail himself), he also had them keep an eye on Klaus. (Diego was 99.999999 percent certain, of course, that Klaus was the only person in the city with his Ouija-board-style HELLO and GOOD BYE respective hand-palm tattoos, which he had somehow gotten after leaving the Academy.)
"Well," the doctor said, "It just so happens that with the passing of the ballot measure from last year’s election, county funds have been allocated to provide rehabilitative treatment for indigent and transient people at no cost to them. Your brother would qualify for this program."
Diego felt some weight lift off his chest. Part of the problem was solved. Now his challenge would be to actually convince Klaus to go.
Diego soon found himself seated next to his unconscious brother in his hospital room. He took his brother’s hand, leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Vanya entered her apartment, placed her violin and its case on the couch. She took off her wet coat, untied her hair and walked to the kitchen sink. She grabbed a fresh towel and dried her hair as best as she could. That rain had come out of nowhere.
Orchestra rehearsal sucked. Vanya could have sworn that the conductor hated her. He led them more quickly than what she had practiced at home and made a couple of mistakes. The conductor had growled about someone being the weakest link, and although he didn’t specifically single Vanya out, everyone knew whom he had meant. Helen Cho, the orchestra's First Chair, particularly turned to momentarily scowl at her. So much for Vanya's efforts to get on Helen's good side.
It was last year when auditions for First Chair had been held for a long time, after the previous First Chair had moved across the country. Vanya had tried to put as much of herself into her tryout as she could, hoping that by earning this honor she would finally indeed prove herself to be extraordinary to her siblings and father. But alas, the position was easily awarded to Helen.
On that day, Vanya had passed a pawn shop when she had noticed a typewriter for sale in the window. She stared at it, the wheels in her head spinning. Remembering all of the times she was left out of things growing up. Never allowed to go on missions. Taunted by Diego. Yelled at by Allison, because God forbid Vanya catch Allison and Luther making out.
So, Vanya bought the typewriter, and her memoir, Extra Ordinary: My Life As Number Seven was born.
And now, this evening, Vanya checked her answering machine messages. One from a local bookstore confirming her upcoming book discussion, and another from a violin student's mother cancelling her daughter's lesson for tomorrow afternoon as she had the flu. Therefore, Vanya had an idea of something else to do in that time slot.
That next afternoon, Vanya pulled out a copy of her book from the box. She grabbed an ink pen from her desk, opened the book to the inside cover and wrote:
Dad,
I figured, why not?
-V
Vanya then left her apartment and headed to the bus stop, awaiting the transit vehicle that would stop at the post office.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Five, with his long grey hair and even longer beard, was sitting with Delores in what was left of the Argyle Library happily nursing a bottle of Bordeaux, of which he now had an endless supply courtesy of a wine cellar that had been untouched.
Five had kept pretty good track of how long he had been living in this apocalyptic wasteland: a little over forty years, give or take. All of this time, since he had first jumped forward and got stuck here at age thirteen, his only goal was to somehow get back to 2019, find out who owned the prosthetic eye that Five had pried out of Luther's dead hand, and get his family to stop the world from ending. But he still didn’t know the correct equation to get back. Delores had kept telling him the equations were off. But at the moment right now, her issue was his drinking --- again.
"That’s an exaggeration; I don’t drink too much," he retorted back to his romantic partner. "You know, I work hard all day! Why would you even think that?"
Five suddenly heard a twig snap. His heart skipped a beat. Was there an animal, or perhaps…another human about to approach him? He quickly grabbed his gun and found himself aiming it at a blond-haired woman dressed in all black, waving at him, grinning.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Five screamed at the figure standing before him.
"I’m here to help," the lady smiled.
"Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your head right now!"
"Because if you did," she said casually, "you wouldn’t hear about the offer I’m going to make you, which would be rather tragic given your current circumstances."
And that was how he learned about the Temps Commission, an organization tasked with preserving the timeline through "manipulation and removal," thereby sending field agents to eliminate anyone who might pose a threat to the timeline accordingly. Five was not considered a threat, but a recruit due to his survival skills and ability to travel through time. The woman, known only as the Handler, offered Five a position as a "field agent," promising that after five years of service he could return to the timeline of his choosing. Unfortunately, according to the Handler, the apocalypse was included in the so-called timeline preservation.
Five reluctantly said goodbye to his lady love and accepted the Handler's offer. As she held out her hand he shook it, at which point they flashed blue and were transported to some other type of world.
And Five did start his training with the Temps Commission almost immediately. But his new employer was, of course, unaware that Five had an outside agenda. Some day, he would still get back to his family.