Chapter Text
Vanya Hargreeves knows pain.
When she had been younger, she had suffered the pain of being an outsider, of being constantly reminded that in a house full of children with amazing abilities, she was the only ordinary one. In theory, being the only different child should have made her special; in reality, it made her useless. While her siblings had risked their lives fighting dangerous criminals and saving people, she had stayed home, practising her violin. Her music had echoed around the cavernous halls of the Hargreeves Mansion, only emphasising the absence of an audience to her life. It had been a long, drawn-out pain that had burrowed deep inside her and stayed there, even after she had moved out.
However, that pain had been nothing compared to when she had stopped taking her supposed anxiety medication and realised that she was far from ordinary. This pain had been raw and fresh, and left her struggling to breathe, as if someone had plunged a jagged knife directly into her chest and twisted. Since the pills had been numbing her emotions as well as her powers, there had been absolutely no escape from the resulting, overwhelming agony of it all - it was a living death.
But even that pain had seemed trivial in comparison to the pain brought on by using her powers. It was as if her old childhood pain hadn't been lying dormant inside her, but smouldering, waiting for the right spark, and her powers had provided the perfect fuse. Except, rather than a release, every burst of power had only resulted in more pain. When she had almost killed her sister. When she had killed Leonard. And Pogo, their father's chimpanzee assistant. And Grace, their robot mother. When she had destroyed their childhood home. When she had almost brought about the end of all her siblings and the entire fucking world along with them. All of the pain had compounded in on itself, feeding into the agony that fuelled her powers in a vicious cycle that had only grown bigger and more out of her control.
Vanya had stood on the stage of the Icarus Theatre, her family held suspended in the air above her as she slowly ripped reality apart around them, aware that her pain was slowly killing them as well as herself yet unable to stop it.
Being so powerful yet so helpless had been a pain above all others.
However, Klaus jabbing her in the eye with a mascara wand comes pretty close.
"Ow!" she yelps. He's sitting in her lap, pinning her arms beneath his bony thighs in an attempt to keep her still, but she still tries to jerk her head away from him as much as possible.
"Well, if you quit squirming so much and stayed still!" he reprimands her, flicking her in the forehead.
"If I stay still, you'll blind me!" Vanya protests. Klaus rolls his eyes.
"Vanya, Vanya, Vanya - where is the trust?" he demands. Vanya opens her mouth, ready to tell him exactly where the trust has gone with detailed examples as to why. "It was a rhetorical question!" Klaus says quickly, before she can speak. "Now, sit still or I'll get Allison to rumour you." He pushes her head firmly against the back of the chair and leans over her again, his tongue sticking out his mouth in concentration as he drags the mascara wand across her eyelashes in painstakingly slow motions.
"I should've blown you up when I had the chance," Vanya mutters, but it's an empty threat and they both know it.
After her siblings had stopped her from ending the world, they had ended up trapped in the early 1960s, scattered at various points in time between 1960 and 1963. While that might be extremely frustrating for most people, it had arguably been the best thing that could have happened to the Hargreeves siblings in terms of repairing their family bond.
Vanya, Klaus and Allison had undoubtedly been the most successful in building a halfway functional family dynamic, and for the first time in Vanya's life, it feels completely natural to consider the pair of them her brother and sister.
The sister in question is also in the room, sitting at Klaus' vanity table and doing her own make-up with considerably more ease. Technically, the vanity table is Vanya's, but after Klaus had expanded his room by knocking through the wall that had separated her room from his, everything in her room had become his by extension.
He had since apologised profusely to Vanya for this and offered on multiple occasions to share the room if she ever wanted to move back in. Vanya had appreciated the apology and thanked him for his offer. But while she wouldn't mind moving closer to her family, she has little desire to move back into the Mansion again: its halls are filled with the echoes of too many painful memories for her to ever feel completely at home. Then Allison had asked her if she wanted to find a new place together, since she had also moved back to New York and been similarly unwilling to live in the Hargreeves Mansion for the long term. It had not taken Vanya very long to make up her mind.
Out of the corner of her free eye, Vanya watches Allison coat her lips in a dark red lipstick that perfectly suits her bold smile, before swivelling gracefully in her chair to face them.
She's smiling more and more these days, something that Vanya is both extremely relieved about and endlessly grateful for.
Don't mess up the timeline. That had been their brother Five's main concern when they had finally all met up in 1963.
But of course, they had.
When they had first arrived back in 2019, they had thought that they had got away with it. The moon didn't have a hole blown through it, the Russians hadn't invaded, and (thankfully) their adoptive father, Reginald Hargreeves, was still dead. As an added bonus, the Mansion was still standing and bearing no sign that it had ever been ripped to pieces.
But every action has a consequence, and their consequences had been borne solely by Allison.
Vanya will never be able to forget the night that Allison had found out her daughter Claire had never been born. She had screamed and bellowed so loudly and for so long that it Vanya had thought that she would bring the walls of the Mansion crumbling down around them by the power of her voice alone. Luther had held onto her tightly, gently rocking her, but it had done little to soothe her.
"I heard a rumour that Claire was here!" she had howled over and over again, barely stopping to breathe in-between.
But as powerful as Allison is, her powers don't work that way; she can't conjure anything into existence. And so, Claire had stayed gone and Allison had stayed heartbroken.
Vanya knows that Allison's pain will scar and become easier to live with - but she also knows that it will never fully go away.
"Don't worry Vanya, I'm sure Klaus has an eyepatch you can borrow if he pokes out your eye," Allison tells her, smirking.
"If that's a Jack Sparrow reference, then I want you to know that I'm insulted but far too busy to think of a witty retort right now," Klaus responds.
"Wouldn't an eyepatch be a little out of place at one of these events?" Vanya asks. The event in question is a charity fundraiser, with all money raised going to sponsoring arts education programmes for underprivileged kids. If anyone other than Allison had asked her to go, she probably would have said no; these events tend to be far too loud and dramatic for her taste, attended by rich people looking to feel good about themselves and hiding barbed jabs under surface-level compliments. But she knows Allison is trying to transfer her acting career from film in LA to Broadway in New York, and that rubbing shoulders with the theatre industry elite is an extremely smart way to do that.
After losing Claire, Allison deserves to have something to go right for her - and what sort of sister would Vanya be if she didn't support that?
"Considering the place is going to be full of mobsters, I imagine you'd blend right in," Klaus mutters under his breath so only Vanya can hear.
The man hosting the event is Ronald Stump, CEO of Stump Industries. He's a billionaire and real estate tycoon who apparently has a soft spot for the arts, as he owns almost every single theatre in the city.
He's also a renowned mob boss.
"Nahh, they'll just think that you're an eccentric artist," Allison says to Vanya, waving away her concerns with a dismissive hand. "You should know, being a musician and all."
"I've only just made first chair, it's not like I'm regularly drinking champagne with the musical directors," Vanya points out. A dull ache has set in her neck from the prolonged headlock that Klaus has her in, and the eye being held open is starting to water madly.
"Well, consider this good practice then," Allison says, winking at her. Vanya tries to wink back, but ends up clumsily blinking, her eyelid jerking out from underneath Klaus' thumb, releasing a single, fat tear that runs down her cheek.
"For fuck's sake!" Klaus snaps. "You know what? Move again. I fucking dare you!" he challenges her, brandishing the mascara wand perilously close to her eye.
"Alright, I'm sorry! But shouldn't you be done by now anyway?" Vanya demands. Klaus sighs, his shoulders heaving dramatically.
"I cannot work under these fucking conditions. Fine, yes, here." He adds a final dot of mascara that Vanya can't imagine makes a lot of difference and clambers off her. Vanya near moans in relief, stretching her neck from side to side and flexing her fingers as the blood rushes back to her arms. She forgets all about her discomfort, however, when she sees herself in the mirror.
Considering the amount of time Klaus has spent putting make-up on her, she's surprised to see that while she does look different, her face isn't as alien as she had imagined it would be. Her complexion is still pale yet more even, her cheekbones highlighted by the faintest tint of blush. Her eyebrows are so full and even that they may as well have been tattooed on, and for all the trouble the mascara has caused her, it really does make her eyes pop. She turns to Klaus, who's grinning at her expression.
"This is amazing, Klaus," she says, sincerely. "Thank you."
"Ah don't thank me yet - we've still got the hair and dress to go," he tells her, briskly. "Now then." He touches his fingers lightly together and observes her critically over the top of them, like a professor judging his student's science project. "What do we think Allison? Hair up or hair down?"
"Hmm," Allison says, coming over to join him. "Maybe down? With a slight curl?"
"I like the way you think," Klaus nods. "What if we gather it all on this side?" He pulls her hair carelessly over her face to demonstrate, ignoring her splutters as some of it goes in her mouth.
"Ooh, great idea! It'll show off some collar bone," Allison says, clapping her hands together in excitement.
"Do I get a say in this?" Vanya demands, though she doesn't really mind; she's dreamed of being included in Klaus and Allison's beauty sessions like this ever since she was a kid.
"No way," Allison says.
"Absolutely not," Klaus agrees, grabbing a hair straightener off the floor. "Right. Now, you're really going to want to sit still for this," he tells her, snapping the tool ominously.
xXx
Around an hour later, Allison and Klaus finally deem her finished and Vanya is allowed to leave. She's never been poked and pulled - and in one instance burnt - so much before and somehow come out looking better. It had taken all three of them to wrestle her into an asymmetric bodycon dress in a black, leathery material that falls to just below her knees. As good as it looks, it does make breathing slightly uncomfortable - though Vanya suspects that that's an inevitable side effect of the dress' ability to take a couple of inches off her waist, while pushing her boobs as high up her chest as they can possibly go. Both Allison and Vanya had been extremely interested in finding out why Klaus just happened to have a dress in Vanya's size, but he had turned pink and refused to say.
As versatile as Klaus' wardrobe is, they could not find any shoes in it that fit Vanya, so she's borrowing a pair from Allison. They are slightly too big for her, but Klaus has strapped them on tightly enough that she can at least walk without fear of them flying off her feet. All the same, Vanya is not used to wearing such high heels, even ones that fit perfectly, and teeters so precariously down the stairs that Klaus has to keep a tight grip on her arm all the way down.
As someone who lives in skinny jeans and oversized shirts, this outfit is something that she never would have trusted herself to put together. But she does trust Klaus and Allison, so she allows herself to relax and not overthink it, safe in the knowledge that she is, as Klaus had put it, "super smoking hot".
Allison springs down the stairs ahead of them, bouncing effortlessly in her own stilettos. The light catches the glitter of her golden dress, reflecting back on her tawny skin so she just seems to sparkle from head to toe. Allison may have the power to make anyone do whatever she wants, but in Vanya's opinion, her ability to run in heels and still look as good as she does is her real superpower.
"I'm going to go and get a cab!" she trills at them, before disappearing out the front door.
"Cool, I guess I'll wait here," Vanya says. She makes a beeline for the nearest chair - but Klaus' pull on her arm stops her from sitting down.
"Oh no," he says. "You can't just sneak out without showing off my artwork!"
"Klaus, you did my hair, make-up and put me in a dress... I don't know if that counts as art," Vanya tells him, impatiently.
"But Vanny, don't you see? I did so much more than that!" Klaus whines. "I have transformed you from a shy, awkward caterpillar into the strong, hot-as-fuck butterfly that you were always meant to be! I was your cocoon!"
"Right, but Klaus, I'm kinda struggling to walk here," Vanya says, keen to steer the conversation away from cocooning. "And since this butterfly doesn't have wings, I'm gonna wait in this chair."
She tries to sound stern enough that he realises she's serious and actually listens to her. However, Klaus either doesn't pick up on her tone or ignores it, as he promptly bends down and throws her over his shoulder.
For such a skinny guy, he's surprisingly strong and he carries her into the living room with relative ease, his shoulder digging painfully into her abdomen.
"Presenting Miss Vanya Hargreeves!" he declares, before dumping her unceremoniously on the sofa. Luther and Diego turn to look at them, their faces already set in the weary expressions reserved solely for Klaus' eccentricities - before blinking in surprise as they take in Vanya's appearance.
"Vanya!" Luther says. "Uh... you look different - I mean, nice!"
"Not bad!" Diego agrees. "You scrub up well."
As far as responses go, they're about as bland as they come - but they mean a lot to Vanya anyway. Before the 1960s, her relationships with Luther and Diego had probably been the worst out of all her siblings. Luther's solution when he found out she had powers had been to lock her in a soundproof chamber under the Mansion, an action that had finally tipped her powers over from "destructive" to "apocalyptic", and Diego had wanted nothing to do with her ever since she had published her autobiography detailing her experiences in the Umbrella Academy.
When they had been stuck in the 1960s, Luther had sought her out to apologise. Vanya had been suffering from amnesia at the time, and hadn't understood the significance of his words. But she does now.
She hadn't shared any such heart-to-hearts with Diego, but just before they left, she had found him sitting on the steps of a farmhouse porch. Vanya had sat down next to him and tentatively rested her head on his shoulder. Rather than shrug her off, he had rested his head against hers in turn, and an unspoken understanding had passed between them.
Her relationship with her brothers still isn't perfect - but it's a million times better than what it had been before.
However, Klaus is far from satisfied with their less than enthusiastic response.
"Not bad? Not bad?" he demands, as if Diego has hurled some great insult at him. "I'll have you know that blood, sweat and tears went into creating this!"
"Yeah, my blood, sweat and tears," Vanya reminds him. Diego snorts while Klaus huffs, but before he can retort, there's the sound of the front door opening and Allison appears.
"Cab's outside!" she announces. "Come on Vanya!"
"Allison!" Luther says, swallowing visibly. "You... uh... you look..."
"I think you broke him," Klaus says in a mock whisper, before abruptly ducking as Luther aims a light swat at him that probably would've still sent him flying through the wall. Allison rolls her eyes and ignores the exchange, pulling Vanya to her feet.
"You ready?" she asks, encouragingly.
"As I'll ever be," Vanya replies. She's starting to feel a little nervous, but Allison takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before leading her out the room.
"Remember to be home before midnight!" Klaus calls after them.
"Goodbye Klaus!"
"Don't let anyone touch you up by the buffet table!"
"Goodbye Klaus!"
"But if you do have to sleep with anyone to get a part, remember to use protection!"
"Diego, can you please...?" Allison yells. There's a soft thump followed by a muffled squawk, presumably from Diego throwing a cushion at Klaus' face with his usual pinpoint accuracy. Vanya giggles, some of the tension releasing from her body.
They cross paths with their other brother Five in the hallway, coming from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other.
Growing up, Five had been the only sibling to pay any attention to Vanya. Whenever one of them had entered the room or they had passed each other in the hallway, he would make a point of acknowledging her, smiling and saying her name loudly, even if it meant pausing whatever he had been doing - and especially if Reginald had been nearby. Vanya had known that his actions were more about rebelling against their father, who had encouraged the children to exclude her as much as possible, rather than actually caring about her... but she had been so desperate for contact with her siblings that she had drunk it up all the same.
She can't pinpoint exactly when it had moved beyond annoying Reginald, but it had. He would start seeking her out: jumping into her room to complain about their siblings, stealing snacks to share with her at midnight, including her in his time-travel theories, and trying to explain the various equations that he scribbled on his walls, no matter how many times Pogo painted over them. He would tease her, not maliciously like the others, but gently, crowing with delight whenever he succeeded in making her blush behind her curtain of hair and declaring that he could read her "like an open book". Vanya would always insist that he was wrong, but they had both known that it was true; he did know her better than anyone else. She had suspected that she knew him pretty well too, though she would never dare say that to him. More than once, she had been practising the violin and noticed him silently watching her in the doorway, a fresh bruise on his face or blood splatter on his white shirt from whatever mission they had just returned from. She wouldn't acknowledge him, but smoothly transition from whatever piece she was playing to one of his favourites: Corelli or Vieuxtemps, comforting him without words.
Vanya isn't sure if she had considered Five her brother, but he had been her friend. At one point, she had even thought he would be her first kiss.
She had been struggling with Sibelius' Violin Concerto in D Minor, a notoriously difficult piece of music, especially for a thirteen-year-old. She had practised until the tips of her fingers were bloody, but this still had not been enough to satisfy Reginald, who had berated her at the top of his lungs for her failures both as violinist and a member of the Umbrella Academy. Utterly humiliated and overwhelmed by the pressure to be extraordinary at something, Vanya had cracked. Grace had given her extra doses of her pills to calm her down, which had left her unable to do anything but lie on her bed, staring aimlessly at the wall.
Five hadn't said anything when he had found her, his eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown as he took in her helpless state, and Vanya had fully expected him to leave. Instead, he had gently taken hold of her and had jumped them both to the roof. He had sat them both down and, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, had hesitantly placed his around her shoulders, letting her lean against him. She could hear his heart thud in his chest from where her ear was pressed against his jumper and had wondered if hers was beating just as loudly.
They had stayed that way for a while, silently watching the sky change from a tangerine orange to a smokey purple as the sun slowly disappeared behind the tall skyscrapers that cut into the horizon. Vanya had tilted her head upwards to say something and found that he was looking down at her, an expression on his face that she had never seen before. Tentatively, he had pushed her blunt fringe, already overdue for a trim, out of her eyes and leant down towards her.
Vanya's breathing had shallowed so much that she might have stopped breathing all together, her eyes closing in anticipation.
But he hadn't kissed her. Instead, he had just pressed his forehead against hers, his skin cool and soothing. Neither of them had spoken - neither of them had had to, their thoughts slipping between their heads easily.
A few days later, he had disappeared and Vanya hadn't seen him again for sixteen years, until he had suddenly crashed out of the sky, looking exactly the same as she remembered him but with the mind of a fifty-eight year old, yelling about an impending apocalypse.
Now that they have safely averted not just one but two apocalypses, and with no third apocalypse in sight, Five seems to have redirected all his efforts into ageing up out of the thirteen-year-old body he's stuck in. Any efforts of his siblings to get him to take a break are either ignored or scathingly dismissed, and it seems strange to Vanya that for someone with the ability to go anywhere at any time, Five's existence has become confined to his room, the coffee maker in the kitchen, and travelling between the two.
"See you later Five!" Allison calls, pointedly. Five grunts in acknowledgement without looking up from his page, the printed word almost illegible under his scrawled notes. A part of Vanya wants to stay and convince him to stop and rest, at least for an hour or two... But that conversation would take much longer than she has time for, even without Allison firmly tugging on her hand. She allows herself to be pulled out the door, throwing a final look over her shoulder at Five as he jumps out of the hallway.