Chapter Text
Five squints his eyes and blinks in an attempt to get the words to stop meandering around the page. He needs to focus, but it’s a Herculean effort. He absently swipes at his hair and rubs the back of his neck, unable to begin to process what a day this has been. Or even how long this day has been. From the destruction of the Academy to yet another time travel debacle - Five would have called this entire day an abject failure except for the sole fact that his family is apparently not dead.
Or not dead yet. Because Five has to add another apocalypse and another set of Commission goons to his mental list of things to worry about. He hadn’t been personally familiar with the Swedes before today, but they were moderately well known throughout the Commission, and his memories of their reputation for ingenuity and doggedness was currently a cold iron in the pit of his stomach.
It’s not that Five is worried about himself. He’s fully confident in his ability to handle anything the Commission can throw at him. But there’s five other members of his family (six if you count Ben, but Five isn't particularly worried about the Swedes' ability to harm a ghost) currently out there, oblivious to the danger that they are in.
The one piece of good luck that Five had been able to scrape together in the hours since his arrival in 1963 currently stood in front of him in the form of a not-quite-creepy but definitely paranoid man: Elliott Gussman.
Because Elliott, who had apparently been scoping out the alley for years, has photographic evidence that the Hargreeves are alive. All of them. He had even compiled leads on some of their current locations, which Five is currently pouring through.
“Of course, Diego had to be a dumbass and get himself arrested practically the minute he arrived,” Five mutters to himself while reading through the details of the news article. He knows in the grand scheme of things it’s really inconsequential, but it’s still annoying. Knowing where Diego is is the important part. Breaking him out of the facility will be a minor obstacle.
Five made plans to head over to the institution later, once he’s finished pouring over Elliott’s copious stack of research related to, uh… aliens. A lot of it is irrelevant junk, of course, but Five diligently highlights for later the few promising mentions that could be related to the Hargreeves.
If he had had the time to think about it, Five would suppose he should be grateful to Elliott.
“Uh, Five?”
Five looks up at the noise to see Elliott wringing his hands and shuffling his feet.
“What now?” Abstract feelings of appreciation are suddenly replaced by mild annoyance. Five doesn’t have time for interruptions; the clock is ticking.
“Oh, well, I noticed you looking at my - “ Elliott gestures in the vague direction of the living room. “- shoes? Earlier?” He shuffles his feet again and Five cocks a head in his direction. “Well, uh, well you see I saw you looking at them and….do you want...want to have them? Do you... need them, I mean?”
Huh. Five’s face twists into a sort of bemused consideration. Honestly, he had just been planning to take the shoes, but Elliott offering them instead is... actually kinda nice.
Mild shame washes over Five as he supposes he probably should have at least considered asking. It’s true that he has never had the best people skills, but at one point in his life he had at least been taught manners.
Now, Five, that’s not how we behave, is it? It doesn’t take much for Five to picture Grace’s gently delivered rebuke at his rude behavior, her face stern but her eyes ever kind.
Elliott continues, “Because I noticed what you are wearing looks kinda like… uh, bowling shoes and uh, that’s not going to help you blend in. Especially as a… schoolboy.” He looks up and down Five’s uniform. Then, he hastily pulls the shoes from behind his back and puts them on the chair next to Five.
Five looks at the shoes then back at the man. “Thanks, Elliott.” He nods and salutes him with the cup of coffee that Elliott had topped off for him a few minutes ago. “I’ll wear them with… pride.”
Elliott beams.
Five looks back down at his notes.
But Elliott doesn’t leave. Five can still hear his wheezing breath and shuffling feet. He rolls his eyes, puts his pen down and cocks his eyebrow at Elliott. “Is there…something else you need?”
Elliott nods with a look that’s caught halfway in between excitement and terror. “Well, uh… I noticed you don’t have a change of clothes either? Unless they are somehow… magic? Or, uh, I mean - if you don’t need anything, that’s fine. But if you do... uh, well, I have… shirts and stuff. Socks too. They might not be too big." He looks down and gestures at himself. “I’m pretty skinny. But only if you want,” he adds hastily, his arms in a placating gesture like he just remembered that it was only a few short hours ago that his houseguest had threatened to melt his brain.
Five automatically scoffs at Elliot’s offer. It gives him a weird feeling which he can’t quite describe but is definitely a mixture of annoyance at the continued interruption and possibly... endearment? When was the last time someone had voluntarily given anything to Five? Sure the Commission had taken care of his basic needs, and if Five had ever bothered to make a request for anything else they may have granted it. But he hadn’t, and that relationship had been... transactional at best.
And before that, Five had been on his own for so long. A lifetime alone with Dolores, who for all her positive qualities (and they were numerous), was limited in her ability to interact with physical objects.
A distant memory flashes unbidden into Five’s mind again - Grace. She was most likely the last person besides Five who had taken care of Five’s needs. He still remembers how she would lay out their uniforms every morning, sneaking into their rooms before dawn, and then again sneaking in after bedtime to whisk the clothes away and wash them.
Five had not appreciated it at the time, but with the wisdom of age he had realized how much Grace had tailored herself to her children’s individual personalities. From a young age, Five had not only been particular about his appearance, but he had liked to do things himself, and so instead of pulling at his tie or swiping at his hair when it needed straightening like she would with Diego or Klaus, Grace would give Five a little signal, and he would make the adjustments.
Now, both decades later and decades in the past, it was kind of...nice to again have someone who gave a thought to Five’s needs.
Hell, Five thinks, looking around at the piles of paper and the fresh coffee that Elliott wordlessly provided after he drank his way through the first pot. He’s already commandeered Elliott’s living room. He might as well raid Elliott’s closet while he’s here.
“Sure, Elliott. Thanks. That’s...very kind of you.”
Elliott beams again.
Five feels his lips twitch and he almost, almost smiles back.