Work Text:
They had come for Five. With black body armor and helmets of steel, they had smashed through her door and leapt through her windows, raining glass and wood shards across the shabby apartment floor. Vanya had froze.
That had gotten her shot.
It was clean, a through-and-through in her upper arm, but the pain was blinding, leaving her gasping and sweating, fumbling to staunch the blood with her sweater. Five had jumped them out of her apartment and into the alleyway behind, but not before the Commission agents had gotten a couple rounds off.
"You're hurt?" Five squinted at her in the darkness. His eyes were glassy.
Vanya clapped her hand over her arm. "I'm fine, I'm-- Shit, this hurts."
He cursed under his breath. "We need to get to the academy…"
"Okay." Vanya nodded hard. Her whole body was shaking, and if she unlocked her knees, she would collapse in a heap of jelly-filled limbs. Adrenaline left her senses on high-alert and breaths quick, though she had Five to thank for the nausea: warping through space, it seemed, had been sickening. How had Five gotten so used to it?
Next to her, he was pale and shaking, too. Startled, likely. He had been trying to help her fine-tune her powers in the safety of her apartment when the Commission had come looking for him. His name was in their mouths, spat out like a curse as they opened fire. Vanya wasn't sure whether she was fortunate or unfortunate that Five had come over, but she was thankful regardless. What mattered was that they had escaped with their lives. That Five had escaped, alive.
Her arm was bleeding steadily, making her feel even more woozy. Vanya blinked fast, trying to focus on Five instead of her blood-soaked arm. Had the bullet nicked a vein? That would have been deadly, right? Was she dying?
Five didn't let her ponder. He grabbed her hand and they jumped, snapping through time-space and stumbling out a few blocks away. Vanya doubled over, feeling as if she were going to vomit or pass out or something but her body couldn't decide on what. Five, at her left, was breathing hard.
He must have been straining himself for quick, long-distanced jumps. She turned to him. "Five, be caref--"
They blinked. Again. Literally dropping in the middle of a backroad. Five stumbled to his feet, a tremor wracking his body hard. He reached out for her, blindly, as if he were seeing double. Vanya grabbed his outstretched hand. "Five, stop. This is dangerous." He was freezing , his fingertips ice and palms clammy.
Despite her plea, he didn't listen.
Three jumps later and they were stumbling forward into the foyer of the academy, caught only by the table in the center. Five gripped the edge of the wood with whitened knuckles, breaths clipped and gaze distant and, God, he looked as if he were going to pass out. Had he really strained himself that much? The last time she had seen Five overuse his powers had been decades ago, in training, when they were all still children. He had come tumbling out of one of the miniature arenas, gasping for each breath as he slumped to the ground. Pale, sweaty, and swatting at Vanya when she had tried to help. "I'm fine." he had grumbled. "It's nothing. Seriously. "
And she had believed him. Because, back then, Five had hauled himself up to his feet and had meandered back to his room, albeit slowly, though without help.
This time, though, he slumped, using the table to crutch his entire weight. Vanya stepped forward. "Five--"
Her shoe slid, squeaking on the tile floor. She glanced down. Blood was smudged across the floor. Vanya stiffened. Had she really been bleeding that badly? She hadn't noticed. Though, no, because her hand had been pressed over her arm, and a sweater between them, it couldn't be hers.
That, and because the blood was dripping from Five's stomach.
Vanya's eyes flicked up. "Five…" she began, dangerously tense. Painfully so.
Five faced her. One arm held him upright, shaking hard. He swallowed thickly, as if he were contemplating what to say, before mumbling out, "I got hit…"
His elbow folded and Five dropped.
Vanya surged forward, catching him against her chest and straining to slowly bring them to the floor. His body was a deadweight against her, his cheek smushed to her shoulder as she cradled, one hand cupping his head to her, the other around his back. Vanya sat, at first. Shock left her speechless, left her confused. Nothing made sense. When had Five gotten shot?
But then it hit her. Fast.
Five had been shot, and his blood was soaking through her jeans, disgustingly warm and thick against the material and Vanya couldn't help to keep the tremble out of her voice as she wailed, "Somebody help!" She squeezed him closer, practically sobbing. "Help! Allison! Luther! Jesus Christ somebody help!" Footsteps thundered from everywhere - upstairs, down the hall, from the bedrooms - as four siblings discarded their nighttime rituals. They all wore various colors of horror as they rushed closer. Diego was prying Five free and Allison was taking hold of her, hugging her as she choked on her tears. Everything had happened so fast. Vanya couldn't keep up. What had happened?
"He's been shot." Diego had Five hefted into his arms, already moving for the infirmary.
Klaus hurried ahead of him, "Is he okay?"
"We'll figure it out when we get there." Luther added.
Their voices disappeared as they rounded the corner.
Beside her, Allison ushered her closer and whispered, "He'll be okay. Okay? He'll be fine." She sat back a bit, then, and glanced Vanya over. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."