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Allison didn’t intentionally not answer the phone. Bu as she glanced down and the screen flashed with unknown on the caller ID, well she learned her lesion the first time a fan leaked her number. So, she didn’t mean to cause any harm or ignore any of her siblings. She’d comfort herself late into the evening years after.
(Except that wasn’t true either. She remembers being 23 and learning she was pregnant, the fear that had nearly sent her doubling over and to the hospital when Diego’s name flashed across her screen. She remembers screaming and demanding a new number, any letters from her siblings where to be separated and put away, safe from prying eyes of a child. She had sworn to her unborn child to keep the Umbrella Academy away, Reginald would not touch her. Claire would be protected.)
So, Allison doesn’t answer her phone.
Patrick, on the other hand does.
He walks into the living room with a bemused smile. His eyes softening just so when he caught Allison with Claire laid out on her chest, curling fingers through the soft baby curls Clair already sported. He held his cell phone in his hand as he carefully walked over, side stepping a discarded plush toy and one of Claire’s several soft pink blankets.
Handing the phone over he leaned down to take Claire for himself leaving the room in seconds.
“Hello?”
“Finally!” Diego’s sharp voice cut over the phone, “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, so has the hospital!”
“What?” her lips tremble, half in anger at her brother calling and half in mad panic over the word hospital.
She could hear Diego take a shaking breath, doing the breathing exercises he’s done his entire life.
“Klaus, Klaus-“
And she wants to shout WHAT as loud as she could into her phone, terrified as she imagined what this phone call could be. Would she be burying another brother; did he take the drugs to far? Her mind wondered, picturing his skin pale enough to see through and remembering how painfully thin Klaus had been since they were teenagers. Did he starve? Did he freeze?
“-tried to kill himself.”
Allison drops the phone. Eyes darting as she tried to remember the last time she spoke with her younger brother. She sat for what felt like hours before realizing she hadn’t spoken to him since they turned twenty, nearly a year before she’d meet Patrick, when she started to pay for his rehab stays. Diego pleading with her, because even if they didn’t work their gangly doe legged brother would be off the street for a few nights, would have meals, and a safe place to sleep. She had made an entire separate account just for that, a good chunk of her money went into it.
Then she tried to picture it. Klaus had always struggled, with himself, with his powers, and with their father. Even with that, even through all the bruises and broken bones (Abuse, her mind whispered) he would still offer a smile or joke, trying to cheer everyone up against the monster of the house. Against, who and what they were (Monsters, the thought floated around like a feather soft touch, Murderers)
She scrambled for the phone, nearly smacking herself with it in her haste to shout over the line.
“What do you mean?!”
It’s minutes later that she hangs up. Its hours before Patrick comes back into the room, Claire safely tucked into her crib. It is hours of her sitting on the couch, head in hand and heart aching in a way she hadn’t felt since Ben’s death. Its only as his arm wraps around her shoulder and he hunch over to comfort her does she cry, big fat tears ruining her makeup as she let out hiccupping sobs.