Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The afternoon so far had been surprisingly peaceful. Diego figured that was probably because pretty much everyone was doing their own thing. In their family, interacting led to arguing led to knock-down drag-out fights.

Though at least lately those fights had involved less punching, knife-throwing, threats of mind-control, verbal goading, teleport-assisted cheapshots, and telekinetic outbursts (or telesonic or audiokinetic or whatever the hell Vanya did) than he’d expected. Progress, Hargreeves style. Hell, they hadn’t caused a single apocalypse in… weeks? Decades? Ever in this timeline? Depended how you counted it.

Diego was taking the opportunity to sit back on one of the comfy new couches and leaf through the day’s newspaper, keeping an eye out for any unexpected differences between their old timeline and this new one. Or maybe it should be old timelines, plural? He could admit in the privacy of his own head that he hadn’t understood any of the explanations they’d been given of the knots they’d tied in spacetime while getting to (or was it making?) this ‘close enough’ timeline.

Over the top edge of the newspaper, he was also keeping an eye on the source of the grumpier half of those incomprehensible explanations. Five was examining the contents of the bookcases in the weirdest way Diego had ever seen. Instead of bringing over a ladder to reach the top shelves, or even climbing up like the feral child he as good as was, Five had teleported up and was crouched precariously with his toes supporting his weight on a shelf over halfway up. His right forearm was at least providing some balance and grip while his free hand ran along the book spines, periodically pulling a volume out for closer inspection.

From the bar behind him, Diego could hear the occasional scratch of pencil on paper, clink of glass, and murmur of unhurried conversation. Apparently Allison and Vanya had decided to spend their afternoon inventorying the bar. He didn’t catch the why of it, but his sisters seemed to be getting in some sibling bonding at much lower stakes than generally allowed by their family’s regular life-and-death disasters, and he supposed that was reason enough.

Meanwhile, Luther was lurking in the memorabilia gallery, allegedly also looking for timeline inconsistencies. More likely, he was getting sidetracked and sappy. Diego had half a mind to go up and extract the guy from memory lane if he didn’t return soon on his own.

And last he knew, Mom was doing laundry and Pogo was sorting through a storage closet on the other side of the house.

That left one family member missing out on the bizarrely normal afternoon. Well, two, but the new-old timeline’s Ben could be sitting on the couch next to him and no one would know except the other missing Hargreeves -- who was known to spout contradictions about their deceased brother anyways.

Though, to be fair, Klaus had really stepped up into the role of medium when they needed him during that one timeline-hopping disaster with the body hunt. And his information had been getting even more reliable and emotionally honest since he (and Ben) had started seeing a therapist, almost immediately after they had landed in this timeline a few weeks ago. Apparently there’d been advancements in the mental health field in the last five decades, though Diego wasn’t ready to test it himself just yet.

Now that he thought of it, shouldn’t Klaus be back from his appointment by now? Before Diego could work up any real concern, though, the man in question came swanning through the front door and into the living room, greeted everyone with, “I have returned, my dears! Hope you didn’t miss me too terribly much,” and flung himself across the other couch, singlehandedly doubling the dramatics level of the entire house in a few short seconds.

Five acted like he hadn’t noticed anything, casually pulling a book out and examining the cover. Diego nodded a greeting, Luther maintained his silent lurk somewhere on the mezzanine level, and Allison made no audible response. Vanya was the one to take the bait. “Hey. How was your session?”

“Positively edifying.” Somehow he managed to make the word ‘edifying’ sound inappropriate. “We discussed an intriguing concept with some very interesting applications. In fact…” Klaus sat up and pointed at Five with such theatricality that for some reason Diego expected the next words out of his mouth to be, ‘J’accuse!’ But what Klaus actually declared was, “Now I know what’s wrong with you!”

It seemed Allison couldn’t resist that setup. “Is this going to be an exhaustive list? Don’t know if we have time for that.”

“Shushush, you two.” Klaus flapped one hand dismissively in the direction of Allison and then the fireplace (Ben?) while maintaining his dramatic point with the other. He announced, “It’s skin hunger!”

The room fell so quiet Diego could practically hear Five’s spine creak as he slowly turned to hit Klaus with the flattest stare possible.

After recovering from that disturbing pronouncement, Diego had to point out, “He’s a temporal assassin, not a cannibal.” No response. “Right?”

Five pinched the bridge of his nose, heaved a put-upon sigh, and stepped off the bookcase into a flash of blue.

Diego glanced around, but Five didn’t reemerge anywhere he could see or hear.

“I think he prefers ‘former temporal assassin’,” Vanya remarked as both sisters came to join them. She sat down against the far arm of Diego’s couch. Allison slipped off her heels and cozied up alongside Klaus, one leg tucked underneath her.

“Temporal assassin in recovery,” Klaus said, singsong. “No murdering people, one day at a time in some order.”

Allison shook her head with an affectionate smile. “Did you really have to point at him the same way you used to make accusations when we’d play Clue?”

Diego closed the newspaper and set it on the nearest new end table as he was drawn into the conversation. “That’s where I remembered that from!” They’d only played that board game maybe four or five times over the years, in their extremely limited common free time, but Klaus’ accusation style was very distinctive.

Vanya, as one of the more sensible Hargreeves when she wasn’t ending the world, finally asked, “So, I’m guessing it doesn’t actually have to do with cannibalism, but what is skin hunger?”

The answer came from the mezzanine above them. “It does have a few names that are more obvious and less creepy, like touch deprivation and touch starvation.” Luther was standing at the railing, newly-normal mopey look on his face.

“Mon plus grand frère,” Klaus greeted, “come, join the gossip sesh!”

Luther checked with Vanya’s awkward smile, Allison’s beckoning hand gesture, and Diego’s own encouraging nod before heading for the stairs.

“Oh, good point,” Klaus muttered towards the fireplace before whispering to the rest of them, “So are we just going to ignore that everyone knows why it’s Luther who knows about skin hunger and isolation, or are we- Okay, jeez, you don’t all have to glare like that. Ixnay on the oonmay, mum’s the word.” And he made the super-obvious childish gesture miming zipping his mouth shut, locking it, and throwing away the key.

As Luther joined them, Diego could see on his face the familiar train of thought, ‘Should I ask? No, it’s Klaus.’ They all knew asking Klaus about something he didn’t volunteer would just result in even more questions. Then the big guy hesitated at the two chairs between the couches and the fireplace, giving Klaus an inquiring look.

“Oh, that one’s free.” Klaus waved towards the chair on the other side of Allison from him.

While Luther carefully lowered his body into his seat, everyone but Klaus automatically smiled at the chair by Diego, where Ben presumably was.

After having the impossible hope of reconnection with his late brother snuffed out almost as soon as it had kindled back in the 60s, and after the craziness with that first weird timeline’s not-Ben, Diego didn’t really know how to react to the apparent presence of a version of his brother’s ghost that had missed everything after that day that felt like forever ago, when they’d learned about their first upcoming apocalypse.

All he really knew was that he could hardly wait until he’d be able to hug Ben again, whatever way he and Klaus would eventually work out to make that happen. Look at all this emotional maturity; Diego wasn’t even going to armchair-quarterback how Klaus was dealing with building his powers back up, no matter how impatient he felt.

Actually, this Ben hadn’t touched anyone in over a decade, had he? Except probably Klaus when they were practicing. Could ghosts suffer from touch starvation? Maybe that was why they’d been talking about the subject in therapy. It was almost too sad a thought to consider without getting angry, so Diego decided not to.

“So, Luther,” he said, “sounds like you’ve looked into this skin hunger thing. Want to enlighten us?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Luther interlaced his fingers in front of himself and gazed into the middle distance between and slightly above Diego and Vanya’s heads. “Keep in mind that most of this I researched… a few years ago now. But if I remember correctly, one of the first reasons people realized touch starvation could be an important thing were these… terrible understaffed orphanages. The babies were only touched the absolute minimum it took to feed and change them. And they just… It’s called ‘failure to thrive’. Some of them lost the will to live and wasted away. The ones that didn’t die, honestly might as well have. Their senses didn’t work right, they could hardly move, their brains just… didn’t develop.”

“Oh my God.” Allison covered her mouth with one hand and looked around at the rest of them as though to check if they were equally horrified. They were.

Luther continued in a dull voice, “And then there was the ‘wire mother, cloth mother’ experiment they did with baby monkeys. They made two wireframe fake ‘mothers’. One was just metal, but had a bottle with food. The other had no food, but its wireframe was covered with cloth. And the baby monkeys would all pick the cloth mother without food over the wire mother with food.”

After a moment of thought, Allison pointed out, “Wait, cloth doesn’t seem like a sufficient substitute. Or is it just that it’s better than metal?”

Luther brought his focus back down and nodded solemnly at Allison. “That’s right. There’s, uh, levels? Older kids and adults don’t necessarily need touch to survive like babies do, but not having it… It still messes with the brain chemistry. They tend to… go funny in the head. So yeah, skin contact or a long hug from a human loved one is the best, but there are other things that can help. Friendly touch from any primate will do in a pinch, like it does for human-raised monkey and ape babies.”

An image popped into Diego’s head of a younger Pogo holding a nameless human infant, its tiny hand wrapped around one of the chimpanzee’s fingers. He’d be willing to bet he wasn’t the only one whose thoughts had gone along that route.

Luther continued, avoiding eye contact again and looking almost like he was reading off an invisible floating list. “Next most helpful substitute for human touch is any mammal, really. Then there’s soft objects. Stuffed animals, security blankets, the cloth mother from the experiment. Next would be anything you can wrap your arms around and press against your sternum, your chest. And the last-ditch option is what’s called self-touch.” And without missing a beat, “No, Klaus, not like that.”

Klaus closed his mouth and pouted. “Oh fine, ruin all my fun why don’t you. So what is it if it’s not…” he leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “like that?”

Diego looked at Klaus resting his chin and cheek in his open hand, Allison’s palm over her mouth in thought rather than horror now, Luther’s interlocked fingers with one thumb fidgeting over the other, Vanya out the corner of his eye with one arm wrapped around her lower ribcage and the other layered over it, even his own crossed arms at the bottom of his vision, and thought he might have a guess.

Sure enough, Luther responded, “Could be just about anything, but usually people hug their own torsos or bent legs, squeeze or rub their own arms, hold or massage their own hands and wrists, or touch their own faces. It’s an instinctive way to comfort yourself.”

“What hap-” Vanya’s words came out in a hoarse whisper. When she cleared her throat and tried again, her voice was smoother and the smallest bit louder. “What happens if y- if someone has touch starvation, and the substitutes aren’t enough? You said something about brain chemistry getting messed up?”

“There’s a lot of things that happen, but one of the main ones involves oxytocin, the social bonding hormone. Different types of interactions release different amounts of it. We’re set up to at least get regular small doses, like from a friendly handshake or petting a dog or a friend touching your arm.” He stopped talking as though he’d run out of list items to read off.

Allison pressed gently, “And if you don’t get that, what are the effects?”

Luther took a breath like a swimmer surfacing and turned his head to look at her again. “I’m not sure. I could never keep straight the symptom lists for touch deprivation and social isolation and, uh, solitary confinement. There’s… a lot of overlap.”

“That’s fine, mi hermano,” Klaus said, voice soft and face unusually serious. “There’s elements of all of those in the situation Five was in.”

Luther gave Klaus a grateful look. “Yeah, Five’s situation. Yes.” He squared his massive shoulders as though bracing himself. “So, some symptoms of those three things can include: loneliness, of course; depression; worsening of any pre-existing mental disorders; touch aversion, actually, or at least over-sensitivity to touch; all kinds of sleep problems; weight loss; vision problems; dissociation; uh, hallucinations involving any or all senses; psychosis; anxiety; paranoia; excessive fear of other humans when returned to gen- I mean, to society; violent outbursts; self-harm; suicidal ideation; loss of the ability to read facial expressions and social cues; and loss of the ability to judge distances.”

Okay, so, that list was illuminating, uncomfortably revealing, and incredibly depressing. (Vanya agreed, judging by the unforecasted rain pelting the windows now.) But that last item, “Loss of the ability to judge distances?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s one of the solitary confinement ones. From, you know, months or so in, uh, in a small enclosed space for twenty-two or more hours a day, I think. Probably not relevant for Five. With his power I don’t know if he even could stop being able to judge distance. That just… doesn’t sound right.”

The room filled with tilted heads and furrowed brows as they all considered that. Yeah, Diego couldn’t even imagine Five without his finely tuned spatial sense. Up until he’d run off and gotten stuck in the future, Five had easily won every one of their navigation exercises so long as he’d seen the area or even a map of it before. Including that blindfolded exercise he’d gone into with a concussion and one arm in a sling.

“Fair enough,” Klaus allowed. “Wait, you said months for that one. Do the other symptoms have a…” he gesticulated vaguely, “a timeline?”

“It varies. How much contact a given individual needs affects how bad and how fast they develop skin hunger, and a bunch of things change based on how many hours the prisoner gets outside of solitary per day. Or I guess it’s probably really different if you get no human or even animal contact at all, but none of the research has that condition. It’d be unethical, of course, but also impractical.” He huffed a bleak laugh. “Unless you have access to time travel or advanced space technology, I guess. But yeah, touch deprivation usually takes several months to get serious in adults, but severe social isolation can cause problems within a few weeks. And solitary confinement is-” He swallowed hard, then continued with a tight expression, “They say it’s one of the fastest ways to drive someone insane. Symptoms can start showing up in a day if you don’t have anything to occupy yourself with, but even with a lot of vital tasks, the symptoms started a few days in. Within a month, some of the damage was already- A lot of it’s reversible or relearnable, yeah, but some of it is- is permanent.” He hid his face in his hands.

He really had lost hold of the admittedly flimsy pretence that they were just talking about Five’s issues in those last few sentences especially.

“Okay, yeah, I know, supporting healthy expressions of emotion,” Klaus said in a direction that suggested Ben had gotten up at some point and was close in front of their largest brother. Then Klaus stood, walked around to Luther’s left, and wrapped his arms as far as they’d go around those giant shoulders. “Hey, we’re all doing the healing and supportiveness kind of family thing now. We’re all going to be there for Five, yeah? And we’re all here for you now. Well, Five’s probably sulking in his room at the moment, but the rest of us are here.” He looked at the rest of them pointedly. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Diego responded.

Vanya’s “Of course” was surprisingly sure and calm, considering the rain was only now letting up a bit.

Allison leaned over the little end table and put a hand on Luther’s forearm. “Always, Luther.”

“And Ben says he’s here for you too. Even if it’s just in spirit. Oh, whoops, I meant that he’s not super helpful because of his usual incorporeality, but I guess it works as a pun too.”

Luther snorted, uncovered his face, and wiped at his eyes. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. And I hope you all know I’m here for you too. Just, try to be straightforward and obvious if there’s anything you’d like me to do to help out. I know I was never the best with social cues, but now I’m even worse.”

Klaus pulled back from the hug, leaving one hand on Luther’s shoulder. “We’ll try to keep that in mind.”

A thought occurred to Diego and he had to laugh. “I was just thinking earlier that our family discussions always end in fights. Guess that’s not true anymore.” He rapped his knuckles against the end table for luck, “Knock on wood.”

Vanya mused, “Maybe we just need our discussions to be really sad. Or therapeutically cathartic? That sounds better.”

“Speaking of sad and therapeutic,” Allison said, “I feel like we should make some kind of a plan for Five’s… resocialization?”

“Pretty sure you can drop the ‘re’,” Klaus pointed out. “None of us were properly socialized as children in the first place.”

Everyone nodded in acknowledgement.

Allison offered, “I was going to the library soon anyway to pick up a book my therapist recommended, you know, to help with Claire. I can see if there’s anything relevant that I can pick up at the same time.”

“Ben says ask a librarian to help. The research librarian if she’s available, but any of them would be better than just using the card catalogue. Except for Frank; he’s incompetent.” Klaus turned his head to presumably-Ben. “Oh, so that’s what you were up to whenever I was warming up in the library. Haunting the stacks and stalking librarians, I should have known!”

“Thanks, Ben, I will. But I don’t think I’d be the best person to actually talk to Five about it.” Allison grimaced. “I mean, I know he’s mentally sixty or whatever, but he just looks so young, and I keep… feeling mom feelings. Like, I get the urge to push his hair off his face, or tell him he did a good job or that I’m proud of him whenever he does something normal. He hasn’t directly said anything, but I’m pretty sure he can tell, and I doubt he’s happy about it.”

Diego had to agree. “Yeah, maybe you should hold back at least until he stops blinking away from Mom whenever she tries to touch him.” He paused and considered. “Hell, is there anyone that Five does let touch him?”

Vanya unwrapped her arms from her ribs and straightened up. “Uh, why is everyone looking at me?”

Klaus answered, “Well, you and Ben were the closest to him as kids. And Benny-boy is off the table while I’m fixing up my powers and he’s all…” He waved an arm through the air next to himself, then turned and made a ‘nyeh’ face at whatever Ben’s reaction was.

Vanya shook her head. “That was a long time ago, especially for him. I mean, when he came back, he did try to tell me about the apocalypse that first night, apparently before he told any of you? I guess because we used to be close, and he thought I’d listen. But I blew it. It just seemed so… impossible. Too big to be real. And I as good as told him I thought he was crazy. He was still… nice to me, I guess. Especially for him. But I think I lost his trust.” She looked down and started wringing her hands, as the rain picked up again. “And then I went and made the apocalypse that…” Her mouth twisted as her eyes became shiny with tears.

Diego carefully reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. God, she was tiny; her scapula and clavicle felt like fragile bird bones.

She rested her hand atop his as she sniffled. Her expression smoothed out, and when she continued, she sounded a little… distant? A little dissociated. “I don’t know what I did that first time around. Couldn’t have been the moon, because books and snack cakes survived, but no birds or mammals. He said he subsisted on canned food and- and cockroaches. Whatever it took to survive. And I did that to him.”

She’d stopped fighting the tears, and they dripped one by one down her still face. “I never even apologized. I didn’t know him, didn’t remember that he’d been all alone for longer than I’ve been alive, in a wasteland that-” She choked on her words, and the emotion evident in the weather began to trickle back into her voice. “I was- I was pissed at him. Because he didn’t tell me that I was the one who caused the first apocalypse, because he was dismissive of me wanting to bring Sissy and Harlan, because he wasn’t- wasn’t what I’d imagined when I’d daydreamed about my family finding me. God, I still haven’t apologized! I haven’t even talked to him, not about anything serious. He kept trying to reconnect, and I have to have used up all my chances by now.”

Vanya looked up from by far the longest stretch of words Diego could ever remember her voicing, and gave them all a teary, rueful smile. “So, yeah, I’m not sure I’m a good choice either.”

Klaus was the first to gather the wherewithal to respond. “Okay, well, I think having that conversation with him will probably be healthy for both of you, but I can see where you’re coming from.” He clapped his hands together. “So! Who’s next?”

Diego snorted. “Now you’re leading group therapy?” Fortunately, he recognized Klaus’ ‘exaggeratedly offended but secretly a little hurt for real’ expression in time to add, “At least you’re doing a better job than Dr. Moncton ever did.”

“I’m glad someone in this family appreciates my efforts,” Klaus said with a pointed look at the air above the sofa arm by Vanya. Then he turned expectantly to Diego.

“Oh no, that was not me volunteering.” Now everyone was looking at him. “Seriously, how could anyone think that wouldn’t be a terrible idea?”

Allison answered with a gentle question, “What makes you think it would be?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go up to him, say, ‘Hey, Five, how about we talk about some of your obvious deep trauma and psychological vulnerabilities, and then we’ll hug it out.’ Someone’s gonna end up bleeding, and I’m not too proud to admit it could be me.”

Vanya patted his hand that she still had trapped on her shoulder. “It would definitely be you.”

Luther at least had the decency to shrug apologetically as he, Klaus, and Allison all nodded in solemn agreement.

In full ‘serene guru’ affectation mode, Klaus put his hands out palm-up and said, “In the interest of keeping my dead sibling collection to a minimum, I move to table that proposal until such a time as Five and Diego can have an unsupervised therapeutic conversation without knives becoming involved.”

Luther played along, “I second the motion.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “So that leaves you two.”

Klaus hummed noncommittally. “See, as much as I’m all about sharing and personal growth now, I’m not sure I’m the best one to talk about this particular issue with our littlest brother, seeing as my personal deep-seated issues run to the opposite.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Vanya asked.

“I mean, the closest I’ve ever gotten to peace and solitude in my entire life is when I would get so fabulously high that even Ben got a little fuzzy and quiet.” He blew a kiss to the air just past Vanya. “You know I love you, Benny dear; it was never personal! But yeah, my solitary confinement related issues are all because I was really kind of the opposite of alone whenever Dad used to lock me away in the dark.”

The only sound was the miserable patter of rain on the windows.

Diego tried to start his sentence with ‘Dad’, found the ‘dee’ sound catching in his mouth, and switched to, “The bastard did what?” Yeah, that worked better anyways.

With a casualness that was blatantly forced now that Diego was watching for it, Klaus said, “Oh, you know, some of little Number Four’s designated training days. Somehow I think old Reggie had even less of an idea than I did how to actually train seeing the dead. Looking back, locking me in a mausoleum with the most deranged ghosts eight-year-old me had ever met was never actually going to make me less scared of them. I mean, did the old man have any clue about child development, or teaching methods, or just, how humans work in general?”

Diego realized he was squeezing Vanya’s shoulder too hard, and deliberately relaxed his grip. She took his hand from her shoulder and held it between her own hands atop her leg.

Allison got up, whispered, “God, Klaus, that’s terrible,” and wrapped him in a hug.

Luther reached up and awkwardly patted Klaus on the back.

Vanya muttered, “Are we ever going to run out of awful things to find out Dad did?” Her grip on Diego’s hand tightened until her knuckles went bloodless.

“Oh.” Klaus lifted his arms to return Allison’s embrace, and said shakily into her shoulder, “Okay, so, looks like the sharing thing does work in that direction too. Good to know.” He laughed a little wetly. “Oh come off it, Ben, no one likes a smug know-it-all.” He curled further into Allison and stifled an exhalation that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Diego glanced at Vanya, and ran his thumb back and forth over her knuckles for a while, until they relaxed a little and her mind returned from wherever it had been. (Probably the soundproof room beneath them.) “Hey,” he whispered proudly, “didn’t even shake the windows this time.” She sent him a little sideways smile.

Meanwhile, Klaus and Allison had lowered themselves back onto the other couch.

Klaus jolted upright in apparent realization. “Hey, Diego, Allison, you haven’t had turns doing the cathartic sharing thing yet! What do you say?”

“Hell no.”

Allison’s response was more diplomatic. “I think I’ll wait until our next family therapy meeting.”

Luther and Klaus both seemed to light up at that, and Diego had to groan.

Allison had noticed her mistake too. “Oh no, what have I done?”

“Too late!” Klaus singsonged. “Family therapy meetings are now a thing! Who’s with me?”

“I like it,” Luther agreed.

Vanya hummed. “I can see how it could be a good idea.”

Allison sighed. “I suppose.”

Everyone was looking at Diego now. “Sure, sure. It’s like I never left the nuthouse.” He ignored Klaus’ whoop of victory to bring up, “So who’s going to rope Five into coming to the next one? I call not it.”

Klaus and Allison immediately put their fingers to their noses like children as they declared, “Not it!”

“I’ll see if I can work it into the apology conversation I need to have with him about having caused the apocalypse. Multiple times. In a few different timelines.” Vanya’s tone landed somewhere between wry and serious.

Diego shook his head. “This damn family, I swear.”

Luther piped up, “I guess that leaves me to have the, uh,” he made a disquieted expression, “the ‘skin hunger’ conversation with Five. Though, from what you guys have said, it sounds like I probably am the best one for it. I mean, you’re all talking like he’s this… hyper-defensive enigma. And yeah, he’s more than a bit prickly, but during the whole… During the apocalypse lead-up weeks, he was surprisingly open with me whenever we were alone.”

Everyone stared.

Allison got out, “Five? Open?”

Luther rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean, kind of? The first apocalypse, before we met with Hazel and Cha-Cha and Five disappeared to the Commission, he brought up his… job, and how he was good at killing, but didn’t enjoy it. And we talked a little about being alone and how it messes with your head, actually. And when he found me in Dallas, he commiserated with me about being stranded in time, though I did shoot him down that time about the whole new apocalypse thing. But he still asked me to come along and keep him from killing himself when they met. Though I botched that too.”

Cries of, “What?” rang out.

Luther patted at the air reassuringly. “No, it wasn’t what that sounded like, sorry! It was Five’s older-looking younger self that was plotting to kill our Five, but didn’t end up doing it, very little thanks to me. It was all pretty confusing, honestly. And they were suffering from paradox psychosis at the time, so the paranoia and homicidal rage were just symptoms, really.”

“Somehow,” Allison said, “I can’t tell if all that makes it less alarming or more alarming.”

“That reminds me! When Five met himself, he said something I can’t really get out of my head, and I thought maybe I should tell all of you. He said something like, ‘All those years, we never stopped worrying about our family.’ Just, casually. Well, casually for Five. In a life-or-death situation. Or, I guess, an acute life-or-death situation, instead of… chronic like usual? So, not very casual, actually. Wait, no, matter-of-fact! That’s what I meant, sorry.”

“Okay!” Klaus clapped his hands together, pressed his joined forefingers against his mouth contemplatively for a few seconds, then lowered them to point in Luther’s direction. “I do not have the emotional energy left to unpack… just, any of that right now. And it’s probably best to cut this off before it devolves. I vote we all take our time to process, and have any of those conversations we need to, and we’ll reconvene family therapy in… two days? Same bat time, same bat channel?” He looked around.

Allison was taking a hiatus between projects, Luther hadn’t found a job yet, and Diego’s hours were flexible, so they all shrugged or nodded as expected.

Vanya responded, “Yeah, I don’t have rehearsal or any lessons scheduled that afternoon, so I’m free.”

“Great! If anyone wants to join a cuddle puddle, I will be occupying this sofa until further notice and you are all welcome. Also, Ben says ‘puppy pile’ sounds less gross, but that is absurdly saccharine so I’m sticking with cuddle puddle.”

Diego retrieved his hand from Vanya and his newspaper from the end table. “And that’s my cue to leave. I’m gonna go say bye to Mom, then I’m heading back to my place. You guys can ‘puppy pile’ all you want without me.”

When Diego glanced back in the room on his way out, the couch was covered in napping siblings. Allison and Vanya were cozied up together on one end. Klaus was tucked sideways between their smallest and largest siblings, his legs draped over his sisters’. Luther was slumped over the far end, one massive arm curled almost protectively over Klaus’ torso where he reclined on Luther’s lap.

Five’s glaring face popped into view, just about giving Diego a heart attack.

Seemed he’d somehow missed spotting where Five had been lying down on the other couch. Fortunately, the glare softened as Five seemed to recognize his brother.

Diego drew his hand off the hilt of his primary knife and pressed it over his thrumming heart, then gathered himself enough to wave goodbye. Five nodded, picked up a book as though that would convince Diego that he’d been reading instead of asleep, and settled back down and out of sight.

Diego made sure to exit as quietly as possible, which was pretty damn quiet if he did say so himself. Once out the door, he took a few deep breaths as his heart rate recovered from the hard startle Five had provoked. This damn family. He shook his head with a soft laugh and headed down the stairs.

Chapter Text

Five knew that his family was up to something. It had started the previous day, when Klaus had come home from his and Ben’s therapy appointment only to deliver an accusation of skin hunger, served with a side of the typical moronic Hargreeves antics.

When Five had returned to the living room some time later, he’d found four of his siblings piled together on one of the couches, napping the afternoon away. He’d taken the opportunity to curl up with his book on the opposite couch.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was reassuring to hear the majority of his family breathing peacefully just about four feet away. Enough so that he’d already been drowsing off when Diego had passed by on his way out. And apparently Five had fallen more deeply asleep afterwards, because he’d come back to consciousness unusually gently almost two hours later. He had been alone in the room, his book on the side table with a scrap of paper marking his place, Luther’s coat draped over his body.

It had felt… nice. A touch unnerving that his hard-earned situational awareness had deserted him, yes, but otherwise nice.

However, it had become apparent since then that he’d missed some sort of family meeting. Of course, that had been his intent when he’d retreated, so it wouldn’t make sense to be upset about it. Which he wasn’t. It was just a little off-putting, seeing the change in his siblings’ behavior and not knowing what precisely had caused it.

Not that that was unusual in and of itself. Somehow he’d been making do based on a patchwork of decades-old (cherished) memories of thirteen-year-old children, what little he’d been able to glean from the bodies of four (horrifyingly familiar) strangers, and the text of one heavily-biased (much-loved) autobiography. No one had called him out on it too pointedly yet, so he supposed he’d filled in the blanks well enough.

These new behavioral aberrations, however, had begun to show up at dinner that evening. And as one might expect from the nature of Klaus’ accusation, they mostly had to do with physical contact and himself.

The hardest divergence to quantify was a change in how Luther looked at him. During and after dinner, whenever there was a quiet moment (not often, due to the presence of Klaus), Luther’s gaze would turn to Five, and it would be… different from before. Soft, but more intent perhaps? That was the sum total of Five’s assessment. Frustrating as it was at times like these, behind each person’s face lay depths that Five could no longer fathom with any accuracy.

He didn’t recall having difficulty with that sort of thing in his actual youth. He had frequently tried to make clear that he didn’t generally care about the inner workings of his fellow humans, but he’d been able to discern those workings well enough. Though his social circle at the time had comprised a sapient chimpanzee, a possibly-sentient android, an eccentric billionaire with less emotional warmth than the aforementioned android, and six other equally-unsocialized superpowered children who, depending on who you asked, might not count as human either. So it was possible he was overestimating his childhood mastery of social cognizance.

Regardless of how it had started, his ability to read his conspecifics in that way had atrophied completely over his decades as a species of one. He and Delores had shared a perfect understanding, and that was all he’d needed.

Of course, it wasn’t long after his recruitment to the Commission that Five had discovered he still possessed a certain way of reading others, though it bore more of a resemblance to bestial pack instinct than to hominid theory of mind. It intuited animus and intention; it presaged motion, direction, and force; it answered the ever-vital question, ‘Will they strike, submit, or turn tail?’

The upside was that he could fight, kill, and survive when thrown into the chaos of the populated world. The downside was that he could do little else.

It was this atavistic intuition that always warned him whenever Allison was feeling the urge to mother him. He’d been a little surprised that he could even recognize that for what it was, seeing as the maternal impulses they’d grown up under had been electronic rather than biologic in origin, and therefore lacking certain subtle tells. It seemed his hindbrain was functional in at least that respect, though.

Five had never said as much, but he was grateful to Allison for continually restraining herself from actually making contact. True, there was a puerile part of him that cried out for such motherly gestures, for which he placed the blame squarely on his de-aging. But he knew himself well enough to realize how he would react to a woman’s fingers combing back his hair or caressing his face or straightening his jacket lapel.

At least when the Handler had subjected him to those and a hundred other minor indignities, her own lupine instinct had doubtless informed her that the feral dog at his core knew it was in no position to bite back. Five’s subconsciousness felt no such galling constraint to hold still and submit to his sister. Which was, of course, preferable to the alternative. But it also meant, if Allison had actually tried to wipe his face clean with a napkin, he quite possibly would have broken her wrist before he could have stopped himself.

That really was an impulse he had seen twitch at the muscles of her arm during dinner. He didn’t know if she’d been able to read either his guardedness or, God forbid, the dread of the memory evoked by the mere thought, or if she’d simply had the sense to realize in time that it was a terrible idea, but in any case she had refrained from following through. As she refrained from following through with any of the similar impulses he saw her fight back with unusual frequency that evening.

(Didn’t he also remember Luther trying to wipe his face with a napkin at some point? Yes, back when he had been suffering from the ‘excessive perspiration’ symptom of paradox psychosis. Luther’s hands and mannerisms were about as unlike the Handler’s as possible for any ten-fingered human, but the discomforting familiarity of the gesture had still broken through the haze enough that he’d felt the need to push it away. God, that whole debacle had been such a painful demonstration of his own stupidity and hubris that he wished he could erase what fuzzy memories remained.)

The final living sibling present at dinner had also been acting oddly. Relatively speaking, of course, given that it was Klaus. He had apparently chosen to employ false unconcern, a common tactic for him and yet one that somehow still seemed to frequently fool their brothers and sisters. Though calling it a tactic was surely giving Klaus too much credit for premeditation.

Ironically, Klaus was still extending the same tactile overtures to Five that he usually did. The main difference that evening was that he seemed to be pretending he wasn’t thinking about his actions, whereas previously those same actions had been genuinely unthinking.

This was by no means the first time Klaus had tried to elbow Five in the side in agreement with a snarky comment, or place a hand on Five’s arm during conversation, or get Five’s attention with an unnecessary tap on the shoulder. But this time, the forced nonchalance accompanying the motions made Five’s inevitable avoidance of them feel more justified.

All of this meant that Five really shouldn’t have been surprised when Vanya’s call the next morning had taken a strange turn.

When he had blinked down to the bedroom hall extension in response to Luther’s distant yell of, “Five, it’s Vanya on the phone and she wants to talk to you!” (a welcome diversion from getting nowhere on the mathematics of rewinding time) he’d anticipated an exchange of pleasantries, perhaps advance notification of an upcoming concert, possibly a coffee-related invitation. He even held onto a likely-vain hope that one day she would take him up on his offer to help her install window locks. (Her frankly terrifying powers rendered violence to her person a much less likely threat, but did nothing to protect her property from burglars in her absence. As he had pointed out, to no avail.)

While the pleasantries were as stilted and the concern for home security as nonexistent as he had expected, the point of the call was… not.

“Five? Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’m just trying to think of a way to break it to you gently that we’re not Luther and Allison.”

“...What?”

“Correct me if my limited understanding of popular culture has failed me, but I was under the impression that the sentence, ‘We need to talk,’ in that tone of voice, typically precedes a conversation about a romantic relationship.”

“Oh! No, that’s not what I meant at all! Ew, no, ugh!”

Five agreed, yet all the same couldn’t help feeling a little insulted at her vehemence. “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you,” he remarked dryly.

As he’d hoped, Vanya’s reply carried overtones of laughter. “Sorry, sorry! Let me start again. Five, I’d like to discuss a… pretty serious and probably unpleasant topic that is in no way incestuous, adoptive technicalities or no.”

Now it was Five’s turn to laugh. Brief and sardonic, but sincere all the same. “Fine, I’m in.”

“Okay. Do you want to meet at the house, or my apartment? Would four-thirty work?”

She might feel more comfortable in her own territory, and he could probably use the change of scenery anyways. “Sure. Your apartment, four-thirty. Do you have coffee, or should I bring some?”

“Yes, Five, I have coffee. Colombian, dark roast, I even have a grinder if you want to do that part yourself.”

The fondness audible in Vanya’s voice gave him a hint of that particular warmth he would always associate with first reading her words proclaiming the two of them childhood confidants. He responded wryly as possible, “It’s a date,” and hung up on her startled laugh.

Unexpected it may have been, but Five thought that interaction had gone rather well, all things considered.

...Now he just had to find some way to occupy himself for the next seven and a half hours, given that his math had stalled out. Maybe he could find another book he didn’t remember previously reading.

As he knocked on Vanya’s door, it occurred to Five that he hadn’t brought a gift. No, that was for things like dinner parties, wasn’t it? A hostess gift, that’s what he was thinking of. Definitely not appropriate for siblings talking over coffee. Even Allison wouldn’t bring a bottle of wine or a potted plant or what-have-you to something this informal, he was ninety-four percent sure. No, make that eighty-nine percent; the custom might have been different in 2010s California or in 1960s Texas and that would be a confounding factor. Still a reasonable level of certainty. And if he was wrong, waiting politely outside the door instead of teleporting right in could count as his gift.

There went the locks, and then Vanya was opening the door with a hint of a soft smile. “Hey. Come on in, coffee should be done in a minute. But you can start a new pot if you want to make it how you like.”

“No, whatever you made is fine. I’m not really that picky.”

As he came in and Vanya reset her locks behind him, Five briefly wondered if someone without his powers (so, literally anyone except himself or, he supposed, Lila near him) would have a different emotional reaction to watching their host fastening the main exit shut.

The image of a closed door was one he had occasionally come across in his reading, but not one that had ever resonated with him. He did sometimes experience a ghost of an emotional reaction to padlocks and certain other fastenings, but he doubted that the remnants of childhood traumas were comparable to the innate understanding that certain barriers were impassible. An understanding that everyone but him had been born with, yet one that had taken him thirteen years to even begin to conceptualize.

Was this something like how Klaus had felt about death, up until his Dave’s timeline-erasure when they went to the 1960s and then their Ben’s final passing? (Not to mention whatever the results of that first, horrifically botched six-person consciousness-projection timeline jump counted as.) That would explain a lot, actually.

And now nearly all of it had been undone, one way or another. Of late, reality was pulled thin and ephemeral, the glistening skin of a soap bubble.

Vanya turned to find him watching her, and stared back. It took four seconds, but eventually she realized that he was waiting for her to take the lead, and headed into the kitchen. He followed as she poured two mugs of fresh coffee, handed him one, deliberated for three more seconds, then went to sit on her couch.

Five took a bracing breath of coffee steam before he also sat on the couch, within arm’s reach.

Within his sister’s reach, that was, which was shorter than his own. She really hadn’t grown at all since they were thirteen, even less than the few inches he’d gained in the hard years leading to his own adulthood.

On the other hand, he was beginning to suspect he had already grown a bit in just the short weeks since his body had reverted again in this last jump. (The constant aches in his bones seemed to support that hypothesis, though it was possible they were something other than growing pains.) It remained to be seen whether his increased height was due to accelerated aging caused by his repeated time travel without the protective effects of a briefcase, or whether he would have had a swift growth spurt at this age the first time around if he hadn’t been stunted by malnutrition, dehydration, polluted air, and unprecedented levels of stress.

If it was the former, it would at least decrease the currently uncomfortably-high likelihood that he was eventually going to outlive his entire family yet another time. Even in the worst-case scenario of rapid progression, he could once again have intelligent conversation with Ben, and might even try assisting him by arguing Klaus into better life choices. It could be a nice change from always being the person practically killing himself (and actually killing numerous other people) trying to keep his siblings alive.

Almost three minutes and a good third of his mug’s contents later, Vanya put down her own mug and turned to face him. “Hey, so, yesterday, the rest of us got to talking.”

“So I gathered.”

“Yeah, well, it was actually… good? We finally did some real sharing and communicating, and no one got in a fight. So that was nice.”

Five raised an eyebrow. “The unexpected localized rainstorm was just a coincidence, then?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. It was pretty cloudy and, and humid, and the pressure just kind of…” She made a poorly-defined, finger-wiggling gesture that might have been intended to imply shaking or squeezing rain out of the sky, then trailed off into a sheepish shrug. “It just- It’s not like our talk was lighthearted. It started out with Luther telling us what he’d researched about, you know, skin hunger like Klaus had mentioned, and from there he got into symptoms of social isolation and solitary confinement too. And he kind of strongly implied some things about his time on the moon, and it got pretty heavy. I think he cried a little? And Klaus hugged him. And later Klaus told us some terrible shit about his personal training when he was a kid. Then Allison hugged him and he cried. And I had a little bit of a flashback but Diego actually helped me through it and I don’t think I even went white-eyed or shook anything that time. Oh, and I cried too at one point. It was cathartic, I guess. Endorphins all around.”

“That sounds… eventful.” And one part in particular was surprising. After himself and possibly Diego, Five would have ranked Klaus as least likely to be frank about something like that. “Klaus seriously opened up about his childhood training?”

“Yeah, it seems like therapy is really working out for him. I mean, he was acting a little flippant, but it’s Klaus, you know?” Vanya’s face crumpled a little. “Apparently Dad used to lock him up in a dark crypt with, I think he said, the most deranged ghosts he’d ever met by age eight. I guess that’s when it started. I don’t know if it- I mean, when…”

“Shit.” While the old man’s methods for training Five’s power had been admittedly ruthless, they had at least also been largely effective. But it seemed his methods had been the opposite of effective in dealing with some of the siblings’ more nebulous or emotion-linked powers. And really, clearly half-assed unmonitored exposure therapy with an unwilling subject? That was how you evoked learned helplessness and avoidance, not confidence and competence. Even Five knew that much, and his entire education on the subject came from the remnants of the 612 and 150s sections in the rubble of the local library. “Somehow I don’t think Dad intended to kickstart Klaus’ addiction issues and pathological fear of his own powers, but I can’t imagine what other effect he could possibly have expected.”

“Yeah, the others were really upset by it too,” Vanya said, apparently misinterpreting his aggravation. She opened her mouth again, hesitated, bit her lip for two seconds, then hazarded, “I was kind of surprised no one had known about it. When we were kids, I always thought the rest of you had at least a general idea of what was going on with each other’s training. I mean, you were supposed to work as a team, right? So I kind of assumed…” She shrugged.

One of the multiple inaccurate assumptions that had littered the pages of her book. Five huffed a humorless laugh. “For all of Dad’s talk about teamwork, he didn’t have a clue how to actually build a team. Another thing to add to the list. No, by the time I jumped forward, we were all already isolated in our own ways, hiding our damage and vulnerabilities from each other. A pack of stupid, selfish children unable to see past our own noses.” And none of them had matured past that, even him. Especially him.

Somehow, Vanya’s doe eyes had not lost any of their old ability to look piteously forlorn. “God, Five, you were just kids. We were all just kids when… Younger than most of my students. Younger than- than Harlan was. Dad never should have-” She reached out as though to touch his arm, then thought better of it and let her hand drop to the couch between them.

Before he could second-guess himself, Five put down his mug and placed his hand over his little sister’s. Her fingers twitched in reaction. That responsiveness, the warmth and give of live skin…

He breathed slowly, watching his hand and willing it to stay still and relaxed. There was no reason for the unnerving sparks now racing through his veins from the point of contact, except… “You know, I can’t remember the last time I intentionally touched a living person non-violently. The last time I tried…” He tried to laugh, but made a different sound entirely. “Did you know that, back in 1963, I met Pogo? And I know better than to- But he was so small and young, and it was Pogo, you know? Thirteen years of me being an aggravating little shit and I never once saw him lose his temper. So I reached out. Couldn’t even say why exactly; maybe to comfort him because he looked scared. And he gave me those scratches I had on my neck when I found you in the cornfield.” He sighed. “I guess I was lucky he was just trying to get away. Even a young chimp could cause serious damage to a grown man, let alone a scrawny kid who was stupidly off guard.”

“You really never-” Vanya’s voice sounded thick, like she might be crying, but he couldn’t bear to look up and check, “never touched anyone, after you left the apocalypse?”

“It’s not like I never had contact. I just never initiated it. Except in a fight, of course. Couldn’t really avoid incidental touch, like brushing by people on the sidewalk, once I was back in the world. Probably shook a few hands here or there.” Eight, actually, and brushed hands while paying or getting change six times. “And the Handler was always…” How to put it so it wouldn’t sound wrong? “Tactile. She could hardly say hello without touching your shoulder. Then since I came back, I’m sure I’ve grabbed a couple siblings by the arm. And, if you remember, I let you tend the cut where I dug the Commission tracker out of my arm.”

“So that’s what that was?”

“But this is… different.” He couldn’t quite quantify how, but it was. The thrills running up the nerves of his arm had eased a bit but remained disconcerting. The sensation was loosening something in his chest and back, while tightening something else in his throat and behind his eyes. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand it, but was feeling that familiar urge that had always driven him to push at any limit he came up against.

Vanya’s hand drew into a loose fist under his palm, and he finally tore his gaze away from their hands to look at her face. Her eyes were brimming but not yet overflowing, her mouth a pale, twisted line.

“Five, I am so, so sorry.”

The pity was only barely more tolerable from her than it would have been from anyone else. “It’s okay. I think I’ve gotten by all right so far.”

She shook her head, and a tear spilled over. “No, that’s not how I mean. I need to apologize.”

Five asked warily, “For what?”

Now that one tear had breached the dam, the rest began to follow. “For causing the apocalypse.”

He very much did not like where this was going. “You didn’t. We’re through with April 2019, and the world’s still limping along.”

“This time, yeah. But I caused the first one, the real first one, the one you got trapped in. I’m why you went through… God, just, everything. You were alone for so long, you grew up in a wasteland, I can’t even imagine. And it was all because I fell for a manipulative creep, and I found out Dad was even more of an asshole than I knew, so I threw a tantrum that ended the whole damn world. I murdered billions in a fit of self-pity.”

She didn’t seem aware of it, but white was creeping over her irises, more gradually than Five had seen before. At some point his hand had clenched around hers.

She continued, “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have landed in an apocalypse. You’d have landed in… I guess, just in a normal world. You could have lived at the mansion, or moved in with me. Finally knowing what happened to you, that you were safe, God, I would have given anything. I think any of us would have.”

Five’s throat now felt tight enough he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak even if he could come up with words.

“Even Klaus might have stuck around for a while if thirteen-year-old you had shown up out of the blue and asked. No, I know he would have, as long as he could. You know, after it sank in that you weren’t coming back, he tried so many times to summon you. I remember this one time, I heard a noise in your room while I was going to see Ben, so I peeked where the door was cracked open. Klaus was sitting on your bed, curled over his knees, blue light coming from his fists like I’d never seen his powers do before, and, that and the dark hair, just for a second, I- I thought maybe…”

She shook her head with a sob. There was a quaver in her voice when she resumed. “Then, over a year afterwards, he… I don’t know if he wanted to give us closure, or get Dad off his back about it, or if maybe he’d taken something funny -- he was just getting into the harder stuff then and there’s no way he knew what he was doing -- or maybe he somehow just convinced himself…”

And now Vanya’s skin was paling unnaturally. Five remained frozen.

“I think that’s why none of us asked if Ben… I mean, Klaus was high pretty much all the time by then and we knew that inhibited his abilities, yeah. But at least for me, I couldn’t have- If I believed or even hoped, and it had turned out not to be real, like before, I don’t think I could have survived it.”

Five managed to say, “You didn’t mention that in your book. You just said he failed to summon my ghost, and everyone lost confidence in him.”

“I couldn’t. When we figured out you weren’t really there, that’s when it hit me that you might not ever come back, not even to Klaus. It hurt, almost like Ben’s death did later. I did write that I left out those sandwiches for you every night until I finally accepted I couldn’t magically draw you back to us. That, that was when. That was as close as I could go to it without-”

She finally seemed to realize that her powers were active, as a locus of distortion started to shine from her chest. She gingerly reached her hand up to it. Morbidly curious, Five leaned forward and let her hand carry his own along.

It was an intensification of an almost familiar feeling, and all the stranger for that twisted resemblance. The thrum of her power was inexplicably similar to that which he felt in his hands whenever he warped the surface of space, pushing across the inbetween to his destination. But it had a strong oscillating quality unsettlingly reminiscent of the guttering flicker between the presence of the continuum and the nothingness of the inbetween when he couldn’t quite tear through. The sensation of his powers failing him, the sensation of being trapped. It occurred to him that this was what he had felt around the edges of that harrowing, inexorable pull when she had suspended them in the theater.

That power gentled to a vibrating hum as Vanya breathed slowly, pressing her sternum into her palm. Then, on a shuddering exhalation, it dispersed with a quiet snap into a ripple that fluttered some papers, rattled the windows and the cupboard contents, and made Five pop his ears reflexively as he did when landing a longer-distance teleport.

Vanya dropped her eyes, now brown again, to their hands over her chest, fingers interleaved and curled like they were about to start joint CPR compressions. She put her palm back down on the couch, and Five moved with it to keep his hand atop hers. After weathering the raw pulse of his sister’s world-ending power, he found the uneasy prickle of touching her hand much more bearable by comparison. And this was as good a time as any to start building up his touch tolerance.

Voice glum, Vanya said, “This really isn’t the conversation I’d planned to have with you. I was all set to apologize for everything, for the, what, three apocalypses you had to deal with because I couldn’t handle my powers? And instead I demonstrate my lack of control. Again.”

“Vanya, you’ve known about your powers for how long? Sure, it was non-continuous, but a bit over two months total?”

She squinted dubiously, but nodded. “Give or take.”

“Do you know what I was doing with my powers after having them for only a couple months?”

“...Huh. I don’t even know when your powers manifested. Or any of ours, really.”

“It’s definitely recorded somewhere in Dad’s journals. But two months after my powers showed up, according to Pogo at least, I was teleporting myself and my onesie about six inches apart from each other. Usually followed by bursting into tears.”

Vanya covered her laugh with her free hand. “Oh my God, I wonder if there’s video.”

Five suppressed his smile at successfully lightening his sister’s mood. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. What I’m trying to say is, you’re doing pretty well. Especially considering that the body you projected into on our last jump was pretty messed up from just having dropped your meds cold turkey.”

She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Ugh, don’t remind me. You know, when I landed in Dallas, Sissy and I just figured I had a really nasty case of the flu.”

“Was it as bad as Klaus’ first few weeks after this jump?”

Vanya grimaced. “Not quite. I guess going off several classes of drugs at once was worse than my one med. Hey, and don’t remind me of that either! Didn’t we officially agree to never mention it again?”

“If you examine that eyesore of a document,” and it was almost impressive that Klaus had found such a hideous shade of glittery ink, “you’ll notice I managed to avoid signing it.”

With an air of astonished jealousy, Vanya asked, “How? He badgered me about it for hours before I gave in.”

Five gave her a flat stare for two seconds. “How do you think?” He pulled up a wisp of his power for emphasis, and Vanya’s hand twitched under his when it flared blue and space-warping.

“Oh! That feels weird. Like when you’d blink me alongside you. Is that what it feels like to you too?”

“I don’t know; is what I felt earlier the same as your powers feel for you?”

“Okay, yeah, kind of a dumb question.”

“I guess Lila would be the one to ask, if you want to compare what our powers feel like from the inside.”

“Oh yeah. Well, unless her mimicry feels different to her than our natural powers do to us. How would we even know?”

Five nodded in acknowledgement. “Good point.” And suddenly that was enough skin contact for the day. He gently drew his hand back. Automatically, he took it into his opposite hand and began rubbing his thumb into the palm, as though to replace the sensation of a foreign touch.

He examined Vanya’s expression, but as far as he could tell, she wasn’t taking offense. Good, because he had a pressing issue to address. “I forgive you.”

She froze, mouth slightly open in apparent shock.

“As the only person in the timeline who experienced any part or aftermath of that first apocalypse -- which was actually caused by a Vanya that you diverged from when I came back the day of the funeral, by the way -- I absolve you of that completely.” He took a deep breath, and continued, “Next, in case you feel the need to apologize for defending yourself back in the theater, I’ll save you the trouble and forgive you for that too. Though the energy tentacle thing was one of the less-pleasant experiences in a life already filled with unpleasant experiences, so I’d appreciate if you refrained from a repeat in the future.”

Vanya nodded stiffly. “Of course. I don’t even know how I did it in the first place. Everything was pretty… blurry and instinctive by then.”

“Which brings me to my next point. I’ll admit I am still pretty upset about that second apocalypse -- or perhaps first apocalypse take two is more accurate -- but I forgive you for it. I seriously doubt you were aiming for the moon when you discharged your accumulated power and fainted, so it’s not like it was intentional.”

“But what about the house, and Mom, and- and Pogo? God, I killed him myself, on purpose. And I brought down the entire house, not caring that any of you could have died, not even caring that Mom actually did. Just a few hours earlier, I was hysterical at the thought that I might have killed Allison on accident, and then I tore down the building she was convalescing in. All because, after less than an hour locked in the basement for being a dangerous lunatic, I had to prove Luther right by listening to a hallucination telling me to make them all pay.”

It was Five’s turn to stare in shock. “Somehow, almost all of that is new information to me. This family really is the shittiest at communication, isn’t it?” Suddenly, a thought both appalling and absurd occurred to him. “Now, all we need is for Diego and Allison to each suffer isolation and go mad, and we’ll have collected the whole set.”

Vanya yelped out a horrified laugh. “Oh my God, that is terrible. Just… so terrible. And you know what? I wouldn’t even be surprised anymore if we found out that they had at some point. Dad was the actual worst.”

That wasn’t quite the way Five saw it, but apparently he’d missed the man’s ‘golden years’, as Diego had put it. He gave a thoughtful hum. “Well, he did do one good thing for us.”

“Bought us all from our probably terrified and overwhelmed mothers and made us siblings?”

“Fair enough. I suppose he did two good things.”

“Died and left us an enormous estate, assuming it ever gets through probate?”

“Okay, three things. Actually, something he said to me after that fiasco of a ‘light supper’ back in Dallas saved all our lives.”

Vanya furrowed her brow. “When did that happen?”

“It was just before the Swede killed the Handler. Well, it was in my timeline; it didn’t happen at all in your timeline, strictly speaking.”

Her eyes rounded in realization. “That was a time jump, not just spatial?”

Quicker than expected. He’d known there was a reason she was one of his favorites. “Sort of, yes. In my timeline, the first time through, she shot and killed all of you. Including Lila, who turned against her. While she was distracted with savoring her victory, the Swede shot and killed her. That’s when I remembered the advice Reginald had given me earlier about my time travel… difficulties. ‘Seconds, not decades.’ And I realized that was all I needed.”

“And you jumped back. Without a… a vortex?”

He tilted a hand back and forth to indicate yes-and-no. “It was something new. I didn’t make a vortex or a portal. Instead, I… pushed crossways through spacetime? There aren’t really words to describe it. I don’t think there’s even math to describe it yet, though I’ve been working on that. Basically, it was less like a jump and more like a manual rewind. I aimed for the doorway before the Handler came in, and pushed myself across space and backwards through time until I was then and there, with all of you alive again. Then I let go and the timeline resumed from that point.”

A soft look on her face, Vanya said, “Sometimes I forget how… how unbelievable you are.”

This touched on something that had been gnawing away at the back of his mind for a while. “Really, we all are. Even aside from the circumstances of our births, we all bend the previously-known constraints of reality. I used to think Allison’s powers didn’t necessarily have to, but something she did in the battle before the 1963 apocalypse made me realize her powers don’t work the way I thought at all. Then, Ben’s and my powers both use portals in spacetime. In wildly different ways, yes, but equally problematically for conventional physics. Actually, some of the problems there aren’t too different from the issues raised by Diego’s and your own forms of telekinesis. Huh, you both have telekinesis, and you both have secondary powers that affect biology. I wonder if that’s related?”

Vanya raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I have what?”

“A secondary power. Unless you want to tell me your sonic telekinesis somehow explains both the tentacles that drained our biological and or power-related energy, and the… whatever it was that happened with Harlan?”

“Oh. When you put it that way, it seems obvious.”

“Yes, well. Continuing with what I was saying, next, everyone seems to overlook how impossible Luther’s power is. But even if he had the proportional muscle mass and bone density of a neanderthal, or of an actual ape, or, hell, even if he had already been his current size naturally, none of that would account for his strength, let alone his casual flouting of the rules of kinetic energy, momentum, just, every concept in elementary physics. And don’t get me started on his durability, which is so selective, I’m tempted to say it has to be some sort of reflexive telekinesis. Or, actually, it wouldn’t be considered telekinesis if it requires contact, would it?” Wait, no, he was getting distracted. He could ponder what to call that later. Back on track. “And finally, Klaus. Just… Klaus. His powers look at physics, at entropy, at conservation of matter and energy, at the sum total of the scientific knowledge of mankind, laugh, and flounce off in another direction entirely. Which, now that I think of it, is actually kind of fitting.”

Vanya’s smile had widened during his… well, he had to admit it was a bit of a lecture. Now she laughed openly. “That all may be true, but it’s not what I meant.”

“What?”

“I mean, yeah, your powers are unbelievable. And honestly, so is your brain. But I was talking about your… dedication? Your devotion, really. Everything you do is for us, isn’t it? And we repay you by being the most ridiculous collection of easily-distracted, self-sabotaging, world-ending morons and giving you, just, so much shit continuously.”

That was… uncomfortably accurate. “Well, you’re not exactly wrong.”

And there went those soft doe eyes again. “You’ve saved us how many times now? Even from dangers we never even knew about. Whenever you mess up, or I mess up, or anyone messes up, you just keep trying until you fix it. This family is shit at saying it, but I want to make sure you know that we all love you too, Five. Thank you for saving us, even when we don’t make it easy for you.”

Oh. Five cleared his throat of its obstruction. “Finally, some overdue appreciation for the thankless task of keeping you idiots mostly among the living.” He picked up his mug from the coffee table. Empty. When had that happened? “I’m going to refill. You want more coffee?”

“No thanks, I’m good here.”

Five would maintain that he did not flee to the kitchen. It was a strategic retreat until he got this uncalled-for itchiness in his eyes under control.

Chapter Text

“I was promised some kind of moan-and-bitch session for poorly-adjusted assholes. We doing it, or what?”

Thanks to the diminished startle reflex of the dead, Ben was the only one who didn’t jump at Five’s sudden and vocal appearance in front of the fireplace, completing the set of siblings. He did, however, put away his book. Looked like this was happening.

Diego yelped, “What the shit, Five! Don’t- Wait, you’re actually doing this with us?”

“I would like it noted for the record that it was a dirty move, sending the family’s two worst sets of puppy dog eyes after me.” Five seated himself in the chair across from Diego’s, crossing his arms with an air of irritation.

From his spot next to Luther on the sofa, Klaus gestured towards where Ben was seated atop the bar. “I’d have sent Ben’s sad brown puppy dog eyes too, but, you know, invisible.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile back as everyone turned to him with warm and wistful expressions, but he quickly hid it behind a look of exaggerated disdain. “Really, Klaus, puppy dog eyes?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer kitten eyes? Guinea piglet eyes?”

“More like eyes of resigned despair at his brother’s frequently terrible choices in life and also fashion.”

Klaus affected a shocked gasp. “Rude! Everyone, you should know Ben is being very rude to me right now.”

Five guessed boldly, “But he’s right, isn’t he?”

Ben very maturely stuck out his tongue in victory as Klaus pouted, “Oh, how would you even know that, you little terror? Like your life and fashion choices are any better.”

The corner of Five’s mouth quirked up, and Ben could see Klaus treasuring that hint of a smile as a consolation prize.

A closer view of the action was called for.

It seemed Klaus had already let his guard down, because he startled again as Ben relocated between the ends of the sofas away from the fireplace, near Klaus and Vanya. “Hey! Can you not do that jumpscare thing right in front of me? At least Five has the decency to flash a light and make a sound when he zips all over the place.”

At that, Five leaned forward and cocked his head in Ben’s general direction. “Ben can teleport?”

Despite his invisibility to the room at large, Ben wavered a hand in an ‘ehh, kind of’ gesture. “Not exactly. Where I am feels… less relevant than when I was alive? It’s not like I’m made of matter, as far as I know. So if I want to be somewhere else, I am.”

Klaus repeated his explanation almost word-for-word, hand motion included.

Sometimes Ben felt a little guilty about benefiting from this older Klaus’ own guilt about whatever had really happened with his timeline’s Ben in their alternate future. But it wasn’t enough to diminish the relief of finally being acknowledged.

“Huh.” Five leaned back, one hand over his mouth in thought. That was the face of someone plotting to pioneer the field of ghost physics.

Unlike Luther and Five himself, Ben had never particularly enjoyed the harder sciences. But he had missed reading in Five’s room and half-listening to him prattle about math. It would be nice to have the chance again, even if Five couldn’t see him now.

Using a tone that reminded Ben that she was a mom now, Allison announced, “Okay, we can talk about ghost powers later. Right now, it’s time for our second official Hargreeves family therapy meeting.”

“Oh,” Klaus said, “are you leading group this time?”

“If you’d rather do it, you’re welcome to. I just thought we probably need someone to keep us on track. You did great last time.”

“Danke! But no, you can have at it. Lead on, MacDuff!”

Five muttered, “That’s not how the quotation goes,” and was duly ignored.

“Thanks, Klaus.” Allison clasped her hands together and looked around at everyone. Diego and Five in the chairs by the fireplace, Luther and Klaus on the sofa facing hers, a slow skim over the space where Ben was, Vanya seated next to her. She went back to Five. “So, Luther and Vanya both talked to you? How did that go?”

Five pursed his lips, then admitted, “Yeah. Vanya and I… cleared the air about some apocalypse-related matters. And I found out about some things I hadn’t known had happened,” his eyes flicked to his right in the direction of Klaus and Luther, but back away before making contact with either, “both after I disappeared, and during the… pre-apocalypse weeks. And of course what happened with all of you the other day. Heard about all the crying, and what can I say? Couldn’t pass that up.”

Diego protested, “I did not cry.”

“Never said you did,” Five pointed out with that mocking grin of his that might look sardonic on an old man’s face, but came across as impudent on this one.

Meanwhile, Klaus wagged a finger. “Yet! Don’t worry, dearest Diego, I’m sure you’ll get in a cathartic sob or two sooner or later.”

Diego glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

“It really is cathartic,” Vanya piped up. “Releases endorphins. You should try it sometime.”

Diego turned to glare at her, and, instead of quailing or looking away, she met it with a smug smile.

The Vanya that had come back from the future was much more confident and snarky than the one Ben had last seen storming out of the mansion after stumbling across a family meeting about the end of the world. Which she had apparently been about to cause? And then she’d somehow been involved in starting a new apocalypse after Five had flung them all into the 1960s to escape the first (but chronologically second?) one. But then they came back to this timeline, after some trippy-sounding detours, and made it so none of that… would happen? Had happened? Was going to have happened? Or something like that.

It was a good thing he’d been able to eavesdrop on some more enlightening conversations around the house, because all Ben had been able to gather about what had happened with Vanya from Klaus was that she had dumped her murdery boyfriend (more fatally than this time around), then blew up the moon with her secret powers (those had been a bit of a shock), then became a homewrecking nanny who seduced a farm Frau? Which had made Ben curious, given that she’d never mentioned finding any girls cute like he did during their private chats when they were kids. But good luck getting a straight answer (no pun intended) on how Vanya would characterize her own orientation out of Klaus, who sometimes seemed to view orientations other than ‘anything with a pulse and an interest’ as abstract concepts on par with the principles of algebra. Perhaps that was a natural result of growing up pan in an extremely (bizarrely) sheltered home.

Ben actually hadn’t realized until some time after his death that their upbringing had been not just sheltered, but sheltered in some unusual ways.

Like how, back when Klaus had tripped and busted his jaw on the stairs while wearing Mom’s heels, the upbraiding he’d sat crying through (while the rest of them had watched from above) had been focused on how ‘Number Four’ clearly needed more physical training and sparring practice if he lacked the balance required to ‘parade in such frippery as millions of people manage without incident on a daily basis’.

And once, when Ben had seen Dad catch Luther and Allison in an uncomfortably romantic situation, the old man had told them off for inappropriate and wasteful use of recreation time, instead of the inappropriateness of holding your sibling’s hands while standing entirely too close and gazing longingly into each other’s eyes until Ben had thought they were going to kiss, ugh.

Then, that one time Klaus had stolen one of Vanya’s skirts and worn it to lessons, what Dad had lectured them all on was the ungratefulness inherent in refusing to wear the clothing that he had so generously and carefully selected for its impeccable respectability, purchased at some expense, and arranged to be personally tailored for each of them. He’d further declared that only their individually-given uniforms were to be worn to lessons, training, missions, mealtimes, or media appearances, and if they wanted to wear other clothes during their downtime, they would have to purchase such with their own money. Which had backhandedly given them permission to possess personal clothing. (Although back then, they’d lacked both the resources to buy it and the time to wear it.) Klaus had insisted his misbehavior had been worth it just for that, even though he’d been indisposed by ‘extra training’ for a day or so.

In retrospect, their upbringing had been atypical in so many ways beyond the obvious ones of ape butler, robot mom, eccentric billionaire father/drill sergeant, numbers for names, and being purchased and raised to be superpowered soldiers. Which had already been more than enough if anyone cared to ask Ben, even if some good had come with all the bad.

And while he was lost in thought, Allison was fulfilling her self-assigned duties as moderator.

“Hey! Guys! I’m sure anyone who wants to cry again will get a chance to, and you don’t have to cry if you don’t want to,” she said archly. “Everyone okay with that? Good. Now, Luther, Five, you two had a conversation as well? Do you want to tell us anything about that?”

The two glanced at each other questioningly. If Five had any idea how young that expression made him look, Ben had no doubt he would never have let them see it.

Luther cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. We talked about, um, you know, touch deprivation and all that. Turns out Five had already researched it too.”

Five waved off a few skeptical and surprised looks with a scoff. “The rubble of the local library had a surprisingly thorough neuroscience section. Conveniently located in the 610s near the first aid information, so I got to it early on.”

It was almost funny in a sad way to see that Vanya’s expression was the only one to twist with distress at the thought of their thirteen-year-old brother scrabbling through the ruins of civilization, searching for a surviving book to help him treat injuries that could swiftly become life-threatening in an empty world. The rest of them looked solemn, but mostly approving of his survival tactics. Their family was so messed up.

Luther picked up the thread again. “When we were talking, we decided it would probably be a good idea to inform everybody how each of us wants to deal with… touch.”

Oh wow, the two of them came up with that? Ben was proud of them. Normally he would say as much, but now Klaus might relay it, and he doubted the sentiment would be received as kindly as intended.

Luther glanced at Five as though to ask if he wanted to go first. When met with a flat stare, he cleared his throat again. “So, um, this body is pretty fresh from the moon again, so there’s that, but, you know, my powers kept me from having to go through the normal gravity retraining and the process of rebuilding muscle and bone density and all that, so it’s not like any of that’s really a concern.”

Klaus raised his hand like he was going to ask Pogo to be excused from the lesson. “Uh, am I the only one who literally never even thought about any of that?”

Everyone else except Five raised their hands as well. Diego matter-of-factly, Vanya wincingly, Allison shamefacedly, and Ben with a fair amount of disappointment in himself.

Five put his own hand over his face and visibly refrained from calling them all idiots.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a thing for long-term astronauts usually. I mean, I know my bone density and at least my fast-twitch muscle numbers lowered while I was up there, but they’re still higher than normal for a, well, for a healthy thirty-something human in Earth gravity.” Luther put on a particularly miserable smile. “Only a touch higher than a non-human great ape, actually. I, uh, I don’t know if that lowering was because of the years in low grav, or if it’s a permanent effect of the serum. I wasn’t really… paying much attention to the tests Dad ran before the moon. And then in Dallas, I didn’t do much exercise aside from running. My goal was more along the lines of making the matches look good without doing too much damage to the other fighters, so I wasn’t exactly pushing my limits. And it’s not like I had a cytology lab to look at samples anyway.”

And there was that calculating look on Five’s face again. “If you want some assistance with running tests or an extra set of eyes examining slides, I’d be willing to lend a hand sometime.”

Ben wondered, “Since when is Five interested in biology?”

Sure enough, Klaus immediately said, “Ben wants to know what’s with the sudden interest in biology.”

After a speculative examination of the general area where Ben was, Five replied, “I ended up spending a fair amount of time in those 610s, and the medical sciences grew on me. Besides, I have a project I’m working on.” And he left it there.

Klaus raised a questioning eyebrow and Diego appeared concerned, but everyone else seemed to find the news heartening. Ben understood that Diego and Klaus were probably worried about replacement obsessions, but decided that he was cautiously optimistic about Five having a project that didn’t involve an apocalypse.

“Great! Maybe you can tell us more about that later,” Allison said with probably unwarranted hopefulness. “Meanwhile, Luther, you were going to tell us about your plan for reintroducing touch?”

“Yeah. As I was saying, this body has only been back on Earth for a month or so, but my mind has had several months to get used to…” he waved a hand vaguely, “people in general. Kind of had to, working as a bodyguard and a boxer. The cigarette girls and servers at the club were actually probably the most help. Most of them were always touching everyone on the arm or shoulder when they were talking. Said it got them better sales and tips. Anyway, that was pretty low-key and easy. So I was thinking touch like that is probably the best way to go for me. Just kind of casual and light mostly. I mean, if, I don’t know, if someone wanted a hug or something, I’d probably be up for it most days, so just ask.”

Klaus got straight to work on the suggestions, patting Luther on the forearm with a, “There, there,” and provoking a couple chuckles to cut through the innate awkwardness of the situation.

“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Allison said sincerely. Honestly, it sounded like she was leaning a bit too hard into method-acting her ‘group therapy leader’ role, but Ben wasn’t going to be the first to mention it (for multiple reasons). When she turned to look expectantly at Five, everyone else followed suit.

Five had shut down his expression, and his apprehension was only apparent in the slight flare of his nostrils and his uncharacteristically long pause before speaking. “As I’ve discussed with some of you, and as the rest of you have probably guessed, friendly human contact hasn’t really been present in my life for… Well, I was going to say forty-five years, but it’s not like I was exactly a cuddlebug before that either.” His eyes went a little far-off. “It’s the little things that get to you, you know. Things you don’t even think about. Just… A hand up during team training, a pat on the back after a spar, bumping into someone while running down the hall. You wouldn’t think you’d miss…” He broke off to stare at the fireplace.

Luther had crossed his arms and was blinking hard.

Ben wasn’t sure what his own face was doing, but the heartbroken look Klaus was giving him implied it wasn’t pretty.

Five took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. He continued in a distressingly hollow voice, “I was the only living human on Earth for over forty years. Before I joined the Commission, the last time I touched human skin was when I buried you. Numbers One through Four, that is. I was… not in the best condition, and the terrain wasn’t suited for digging, so I ended up making cairns more than graves. It took me a while. At first, you were so- you looked so- I shook you, just to check. But by the end, you weren’t even…” He swallowed hard. “I did consider staying with you. But at the time, I still had hope that… I’m sorry. I did what I could.”

Oh, so that was on the small list of things that could make a ghost cry. Good to know.

It wasn’t like the rest of them were doing much better. Klaus somehow looked even more heartbroken now, Vanya had pulled her legs up to her chest like a child, Allison was covering her lower face as though to hide her shaky breaths, and Luther was now weeping openly. Even Diego was wiping at his eyes, though his expression was more one of pained fury than of sorrow.

Five pulled his gaze away from the fireplace to survey his devastated siblings with a detached look of the sort that reminded Ben he was now a fifty-eight-year-old assassin. He saw the moment Five decided to push through quickly and deal with the fallout later.

“I actually came across a book on the neurological aspects of social contact and loneliness early on after, as I said, I had the idea to scour the library for an intact first aid manual. Given the relevance of the subject matter to my situation, I of course picked it up and read it directly after completing the volumes I’d found on first aid and other potential medical necessities. It was useful in my development of strategies to mitigate the effects of isolation.”

It wasn’t particularly unusual that Ben had stopped all motion to better hang on Five’s every word, but he hadn’t expected the rest of his sisters and brothers to do the same. He’d never seen them so still.

“I’d met and started traveling with Delores even earlier on; she was actually already with me when I found your- when I found you. But that book is what inspired me to put more effort into building a relationship with her. Of course, that turned out to be a very worthwhile endeavor. Delores has never been one to initiate contact, but she also never turned down an embrace, and that helped.”

God, Ben didn’t know how to feel about that. Was Delores a heavily anthropomorphized comfort object? A delusion? An imaginary friend taken to extremes? Projection personified? A distinctly Hargreeves instance of the ‘marrying a woman like your mother’ phenomenon? Had Five actually dissociated a fragment of himself so thoroughly he externalized it?

… Did it even matter? Whatever else she was, she seemed to be the main reason that Five’s psyche had emerged from his unthinkably extreme isolation still recognizable as human, let alone recognizable as their brother. Ben could at least be grateful for that.

Five continued in a clinical tone, “I also made sure to regularly engage in activity intended to stimulate the c-tactile afferent nerves especially, to help stave off and minimize touch starvation symptoms.” He pushed up his right sleeve to demonstrate by stroking a couple fingers up and down his inner forearm, then switched to swiping his thumb back and forth across his wrist. “Optimal speed is three to five centimeters per second. Tactile afferents can also be stimulated with gentle pressure to sensitive areas like the hands,” he used his right thumb to massage the opposite palm, “and the face.” He lifted his right hand to the far side of his face and ran his thumb from the side of his nose out towards his ear, pressing along the arch of the cheekbone. “That sort of thing.”

Looking around at his siblings’ heartsick faces, Ben guessed he was not the only one picturing skinny little actually-teenage Number Five, alone at the end of the world and fresh from burying most of his family, reading from a ragged book about the science of loneliness, clutching a partial mannequin to his narrow chest, gently stroking his own arm, trying to convince what parts of himself he could that he wasn’t the only person left alive…

Five closed his eyes, left his hand on his face, and seemed to collect himself for a few moments. Then he returned his blazer to order and regarded them all coolly once again. “When the Handler recruited me, of course, circumstances changed. At first, seeing other humans, even just breathing and walking and going about the business of living, was overwhelming. Actual touch was… electrifying. And no, not in a good way. Burning skin, a stunning jolt up the nerves. Not ideal for a would-be assassin. Had to spend a while in Medical anyways, because apparently growing up in a desolate hellscape can cause some long-term health issues. Who’d have guessed. I never knew what all they did, but by the time they released me, my breathing was easier, my eyesight was better, my former bad knee only hurt when it was going to rain, and casually brushing by a coworker in the hall was no longer paralyzing. Oh, and I had a tracker in my arm, but that’s neither here nor there.”

There were raised eyebrows and furrowed brows all around, but Allison was the one to jolt in indignation. “What?”

Five definitely misunderstood her concern, because his response was to push up his sleeve again, this time far enough to expose a small bandage just below the crook of his arm. “Don’t worry, I cut it out less than a day after I got back the first time around. Vanya cleaned it up.” He nodded at her in apparent gratitude, and she nodded back.

“You cut it out yourself?” Allison almost squeaked in dismay.

“Wait, wait,” Diego cut in with an apprehensive look on his face. “You’re saying the tracker stayed in you, even when you jumped into your thirteen-year-old body?”

Oh, good point. Everyone looked a little confused as they tried to work that out. Five’s tracker and his suit had remained the same, so why had his body, also a physical object, been the only thing altered when Five ‘projected his consciousness’ into… whatever it was he’d called it?

Of course, Five began to rattle off a predictably brain-bending explanation. “I didn’t so much jump into my old body as I used the template of the most contemporary instance- You know what, that doesn’t really matter. The point is, the Commission has the ability to affix objects to, or detach objects from, particular timeline streams. Apparently they fixed the tracker to my personal timeline. Could’ve been an issue if I’d messed up too far and ended up significantly smaller, I guess, but,” he shrugged. “Actually, I know of at least two Corrections recruits who were taken from alternative timelines and affixed to the Commission timeline before the divergence point was corrected and their timeline of origin was erased. Well, by ‘before’ I mean in their personal timeline and in the Commission timeline, but not in the main timeflow, of course. If they hadn’t been unmoored and re-anchored, then they would have ceased to have ever existed in that form before they were recruited, so it never would have happened at all.”

Ben thought he might be able to understand that if he processed it for a while, then listened to a slower repeat. Which meant that Five was almost certainly dumbing it down for them all. Luther and Allison looked like they were trying to work through a particularly tough riddle, while the other three were just kind of… stunned and blinking.

Five continued regardless, “That’s actually a bit like a simplified version of what happened to my own timeline. My natural time travel lacks certain timeline-stabilizing effects that are usually provided by the briefcases, though, and that makes everything a little messier. As you all experienced, unfortunately.” Five gave a rueful, almost apologetic tip of the head, and there were a few shudders and winces among the siblings. “Honestly, for the first week or two back, I was a little concerned that this timeline’s younger me might pop out of the woodwork from his own failed experiment in time travel, and who knows what that would have done to my personal timeline’s integrity? But he didn’t, so I suppose my timeline closed the loop properly, and part of it just runs through an alternate timeline that may or may not exist in any real sense. Which is existentially uncomfortable, but not unheard of in the ebb and flow of a healthy timeline.”

“Now I have a headache,” Klaus moaned, flopping bonelessly across the arm of the sofa.

Vanya said, “I didn’t follow, um, any of that, but the main point I’m getting is that there was at some point a risk of an alternate dimension version of you showing up and causing your… past to implode or something?”

“That’s… almost entirely wrong. But close enough for your purposes, I suppose.”

“And you didn’t tell any of us about that risk?”

“It’s not like you could have done anything about it.”

Vanya let her face fall forward into her knees in defeat.

“Okay!” Allison declared. “We are officially adding another purpose to family therapy meetings! They are still for sharing and emotional catharsis and support. But now they are also for communication of important developments.” She put out a hand to shush Five almost before he’d opened his mouth. “Even if you don’t think anyone can help the situation, if it might affect your wellbeing, we’d still like to know about it.”

Five slumped back in his seat with an air of resignation. “Fine. Though I would like to point out that being communicative about the 1963 apocalypse did not in fact go any better for me than playing the 2019 apocalypse close to the vest did.”

“That’s a fair point,” Allison allowed. “But I think we’re getting better at helping each other out when we need our family.” She glanced over and shared a gentle smile with Vanya, almost certainly in reference to a memory that Ben wasn’t privy to but, based on the faces around him, everyone else was. “And I think more open communication is a step in the right direction.”

Diego said, “In the spirit of communicating important developments, I’ve got a question for Five. What are the odds I’ve got a tracker in me, considering I have no idea what Lila gave me or how long I was out before I came around in the Handler’s office?”

Ben turned to Klaus. “Really? You didn’t think Diego being abducted by the evil time police warranted a mention in your summary?”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Klaus protested, drawing the attention of the room. “I don’t think I even knew about that.” He shrugged defensively. “What? There were, just, a lot of things going on. You know how it is; sometimes weird things happen or people know about future events and you don’t know why, and you just have to go along with it. Or else you might end up punching your possible alternate future soulmate in a crappy diner and enlisting even earlier this time around.”

Ben was not the only one to express confusion and alarm at that, but Klaus was on a roll.

“Though that would explain why Diego disappeared sometime between me and Ben making out with the gardening girl and me puking him up in the alley. Oh, and I guess maybe it explains how Diego came back with his little Commission buddy, knowing where Vanya was and that she was about to kickstart the apocalypse again. All I caught was something about headhunting and a switchboard? It was a very confusing time.”

From the looks of everyone else, at least some of that ramble had been news to them too. Though possibly not the same parts.

In particular, Allison scrunched her eyes closed like she had a migraine, Vanya buried her face back into her knees with a small noise of distress, and Five rubbed his forehead while muttering, “How. How are we possibly this shitty at communication?”

Diego was the first to pull himself together. “Yeah, looks like we’re all gonna need a bunch more chats about how things went down. But I think I’d like the answer to my question first.”

Five sighed deeply. “Honestly, it’s not very likely. If you did have one, there’s a good chance you lost it when I… spectacularly botched that first timeline jump. Unless the Metaphysics division somehow anticipated that possibility, which I didn’t even know was a possibility until I did it. Either way, it’s probably not urgent, considering nothing’s happened yet. And you’re on good terms with the new management, anyways. But we should still check you over with the x-ray machine later.”

An in-house x-ray machine: essential equipment for the eccentric billionaire that doesn’t want to deal with negative press over having his child soldiers in and out of a radiology clinic every time they might have broken another bone.

“Glad that’s settled for now,” Allison said firmly. “And we will definitely have to schedule another family meeting later to see if we can get everyone filled in on what the hell was going on that week, because apparently no one else has all the pieces, either. And that will probably turn into a big talk-therapy session too, but for now I think we should get back on topic. Any objections?”

No one dared.

“So, Five, you were going to tell us about how you want to handle your reintroduction to touch. You were giving us background, and we were up to you being released from Medical at the Commission.”

“Yeah.” Five narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment, then picked up his tale. “After that, incidental touch was no longer actively painful. But, for a few years there, the only intentional touch I experienced was fighting, killing, or checking for a pulse.” He seemed to briefly consider whether or not he should voice his next point. “Or the Handler. She was always touching my arm, putting a hand on my shoulder, patting me on the back. At first I thought she was doing it to help desensitize me, and I imagine that’s what she would have said if I’d asked. But the truth is, that woman never saw a vulnerability she didn’t exploit.”

The bits and pieces Ben had heard so far about the Handler (mostly first-, second-, and third-hand from Five, Diego, and Klaus respectively) should have been enough for him to already hate her sight unseen. But somehow what actually did it was his youngest/oldest brother’s grim eyes and barely perceptible shiver as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Point is, casual touch isn’t going to go well with me like it will with Luther. Best case scenario, I’ll find it… discomforting. Worst case scenario, I’ll automatically react like you’re a threat.” He ran his gaze over his living siblings. “Luther, Klaus, Vanya, you’ve been telegraphing well enough that you can continue as is, so long as you won’t take it personally when I avoid your attempted touch. I may occasionally let you make contact in order to practice desensitization. Just don’t try it if I appear… distracted.”

The three nodded, Klaus like he expected as much, Luther with a look of concern, and Vanya sadly.

“Diego, you’re the only one who still consistently moves like you’re ready for a fight, so you should probably hold off until I’ve recalibrated my fight-or-flight instincts.”

“Fair enough,” Diego allowed, somehow combining pride with a tinge of disappointment.

Surprisingly, Five looked in Ben’s direction next. “Ben, we’ll cross that bridge when Klaus is able to keep you corporeal longer. But I would consider attempting… significant friendly contact, given that you wouldn’t be harmed if I reacted poorly.”

“Aww,” Klaus announced, “you gave him happy puppy dog eyes now! Adorable.”

“Shut up,” Ben said through his grin.

Five actually smiled briefly, but sombered again as he turned to Allison. “First off, I’d like to thank you for restraining the maternal impulses I’ve seen you experiencing. Just so you’re aware, I’m not so much of an actual teenager that it’s the… the affectionate sentiment that I object to. Though I will ask you not to cut the crusts off any of my sandwiches.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Allison said wryly, humor subdued under the general air of foreboding.

“It’s just that there are some… types of interaction I would almost certainly react badly to, especially from-” he paused and squinted into the middle distance as if re-evaluating. “Actually the list applies for all of you. And I should mention it to Mom and maybe Pogo at some point as well.” He refocused and continued, “Basically, it’s a bad idea to touch my hair, touch my face, straighten any of my clothing, or stand directly behind me.” His whole face twitched as an unpleasant thought seemed to occur to him. “Oh, and, Allison, I know the other evening at dinner, for just a moment, you almost moved to- to clean something off my face with a napkin. That probably would have ended very poorly. Just for future reference.”

As Five gave them the probably-partial list of his triggers, Ben found himself taking deep breaths (unnecessary, but still calming) to settle the Horror (or his post-death phantom limb manifestation of the Horror? Klaus had never seemed certain about that either) for the first time since that one dealer had- No, remembering that incident now would not help. Anyways, it was the first time he’d had to settle it in a long while. Meanwhile, he soothed himself with the reminder that Five and the rest of them had seen the Handler die with their own eyes. Yes, that had been (was going to have been?) in their alternate future journey into the past, which had been erased. But he had heard Five reassure their siblings that events in Commission employees’ timelines were fixed, regardless of alterations to the ‘main timeflow’, so she was definitely dead.

Diego seemed to be having similar thoughts. “I am so glad you heard that bitch coming and gave the Swede an opening to gank her, back in the barn.”

Five raised an eyebrow as though he somehow didn’t follow the obvious connection between his rundown of his triggers and his protective brother being glad the Handler was dead, but nodded in agreement.

Vanya spoke up, “That isn’t really what happened, though.”

Five acceded to everyone’s inquiring looks with minimal grumbling. “Yes, she’s right. I wasn’t planning to bring it up to everybody until I had a better handle on the new aspect of my powers, especially after the timeline fiascos, but I suppose sharing is the word of the week.” He gave a resigned huff. “I didn’t do a spatial jump to the doorway because I sensed the Handler approaching. I did a spatiotemporal rewind to that place and time because, the first time around, she came in and shot up the place.” He gave Diego a measured look. “Including Lila, when she protested and called us her family. Lila and the rest of you died almost instantly, but I was heading there a little slower. The Handler gloated a bit, the remaining Swede showed up and put an end to that, and just before I joined you all, I figured out a new way to use my powers. So, for the third time, I ended up running my personal timeline in a closed loop through an alternate timeline where you all died. At least each one has been shorter than the last.” And he had the audacity to shrug dismissively.

“Wait, you were shot too?” Vanya questioned. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Five tilted his head. “I didn’t mention that? Yes, well, as is apparently customary now, I was the lone survivor. Though this time it was just a quirk of semi-random weapons fire, not because I screwed up a time jump.”

Allison brought up a point that Ben had missed in his shock. “Wait, if you jumped back in time, why weren’t you still shot when you landed?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You weren’t hiding bullet wounds again, were you?”

Five gave a tetchy little snort. “Not this again. It was a shrapnel wound, it was the same wound each time you all decided to poke at my unconscious body, and I didn’t try to hide it this last time around, did I?”

“Didn’t really get a chance,” Diego pointed out. “We already knew about it, and also you passed out again right after we landed.” (It would have scared years off of Ben’s life if such a thing were possible. A flash of light, Five fell onto the bar out of nowhere looking the worse for wear, everyone else staggered or outright collapsed, and Five… didn’t get up.)

Five ignored Diego’s contribution. “But no, I wasn’t still shot. It wasn’t a jump or a vortex; I didn’t go directly from one point in the continuum to another. That’s why I’m calling it a rewind. I pushed myself through spacetime, not across it, and time rewound for my body as well. I don’t know if that’s an inherent feature of the ability and would happen no matter what, or if my survival instincts subconsciously chose to do that.” He scowled. “I’ve been trying to work out the math of it, but the available data are very limited.”

Luther asked, “Wouldn’t trying it out some more help? Like with the consciousness-projection group time travel; it seems like you really got a handle on it by this last time.”

“Not an option right now,” Five said with almost threatening finality.

Five was more subtle about it than either Klaus or Ben himself had ever been, but Ben suspected their oldest/youngest sibling harbored fear of his own powers. The temporal aspects, at least, and apparently with good reason.

Now wasn’t really the time to delve into that, though. Not when everyone was being so dumb. Ben turned to Klaus in irritation. “Seriously? You hear about how Five saw you all die again, and saved you all from dying, also again, and none of you think to express the slightest hint of sympathy or gratitude?”

Klaus heaved a sigh like he’d just been assigned to clean all the bathrooms as punishment duty, but did turn to Five. “So, it blows that we all died on you again. Thanks for saving all our asses. Including yours. Because, wow, would it have sucked to wake up to that. I mean, evading my cult and a national manhunt, and probably either the Swede or the Handler too, while dragging all your newbie ghosts, except the one I was already used to, along with me to Reykjavik? Would not have been fun.”

Oh God, first the mausoleum, now his habit of not dying? Was Klaus going to ‘accidentally let slip’ one deeply traumatic and closely-held secret per family therapy meeting? Or he could still play it off as a joke. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Thanks,” Five said, sounding a little startled. “But sorry to say, you died too. It was quick, if that helps.”

“Oh, was it a headshot? I mean, that might have done it. They say it works for zombies. I wouldn’t know; never tried it. And apparently whatever happened in the very first apocalypse worked, if you managed to bury my lovely corpse without incident. It’s just that none of the ways I remember dying so far have stuck.” And he actually shrugged, the complete asshole.

Ben braced himself.

Sure enough, Luther gawked as Diego, Allison, and Five all screeched mingled questions and imprecations. But the award went to Vanya, who let out a shriek of, “What the fuck, Klaus?” that cut through the din and cracked at least two windows.

In the ringing silence afterwards, Ben stated darkly, “If you say anything like, ‘Oh, I forgot to mention that?’ I will punch you myself, corporeal or no.”

Klaus put on a thin and shaky smile. “To be fair, I never really believed that I had ever actually died until, oh, a couple days before Vanya blew up the moon? The night after the day that we jumped back to.” He mouthed that last sentence again to check it made sense, nodded in satisfaction, and continued. “I cracked my head, and woke up… somewhere different, and met a… being? Who told me I wasn’t supposed to be there. That’s when I met up with Dad, and he spilled the beans about the whole killing himself thing. And then I woke up on the floor surrounded by a bunch of people staring and backing away and generally looking like they’d seen someone come back from the dead. Ben told me they’d already checked for a pulse and were trying to decide what to do with my body when I woke up. Apparently some of them wanted to toss it in a dumpster out back. So rude, am I right?”

Before this afternoon, the closest Ben had come to crying in a long time had been at their therapy appointment the previous week, when Klaus had shared that story. Alternate Ben must have been shattered, watching some of his worst fears coming true, all alone, powerless, hoping against hope that Klaus could pull off the impossible one more time…

Luther pulled himself out of his stunned stupor to ask, “What do you mean, you didn’t believe that you’d died before then?”

“Well, it had always been in situations where it was possible I just blacked out and recovered. Like hitting my head, or hypothermia, or, of course, overdose. Sometimes I even got some official medical-type drugs and jolts to the old ticker from a paramedic, so it could have been a miracle of modern medicine! Other than that, usually only Ben was around. And it’s not like he could check my pulse, so I tended to brush it off whenever he said he’d thought I was dead.” Klaus gave him a sad smile. “Sorry, Benny.”

Ben couldn’t muster snark or even a false smile to return. “I know. You’re taking better care of yourself now, and that means a lot.”

Five demanded, “How many times.”

“Ooh, good question. Ben, how many do you think?”

Ben heaved a pained sigh for emotive effect. “Probably more, but there are four I saw and was pretty damn sure of, no paramedics involved.”

“Okay, and then there were a couple maybes from before you became my shadow, and the one when I met up with Dad. Oh, and there was one in the 60s that other-future-Ben insisted counted. So, probably eight? Give or take a couple.”

Luther, Allison, and Vanya each looked like they’d been stabbed unexpectedly, while Diego and Five looked furious. On second thought, that was probably also how Diego and Five would look if stabbed unexpectedly. Ben pointed out, “Notice how they all look like you just shanked them in the gut? Oh, look, and now Luther and Vanya crying again. Told you I wasn’t overreacting.”

“Oh wow, okay!” Klaus put his hands up as though to assuage the general atmosphere of distress. “It’s fine; I’m okay. Wow, you are all… very upset. But I’m fine, and at least semi-immortal, so that’s good news, right?”

Five bared his teeth so fiercely Ben almost expected him to growl. “Of course we’re upset, you imbecile! Do you have the slightest glimmer of appreciation of what I have done, how hard I have worked, just to keep you death-seeking morons alive? And now I find out, this whole damn time, you have been killing yourself with drugs, and head trauma, and- and hypothermia! What the actual hell?’

Klaus looked to Ben as though he could (or would) help him out of this situation, then gave up and winced at Five. “Um, sorry? I’ll try not to do it again?”

“I don’t get it,” Allison said with an uncharacteristic waver in her voice. “Of all the rest of us, only one of us has died once in over thirty years. One and a half if you count Luther’s… incident. Hell, Five made it to almost sixty in a literal post-apocalyptic wasteland and then the definition of a high-risk job. And yet, somehow, you have managed to die eight damn times.”

Klaus’ lopsided attempt at a smile indicated that even he was having trouble playing carefree about this. “I don’t know if it’s ironic or to be expected, given my powers, but death never seemed… all that serious to me? Like, it’s just something that happens sometimes, but- Well, I was going to say life goes on, but I guess that’s not very à propos. I mean, dead people are kind of creepy and gross and obsessive and rude and generally horrifying -- present company excluded of course,” he blew a half-sincere kiss, but continued, “except for the rude part, Ben’s much ruder now -- and there were lots of ways of dying that looked really unpleasant, but death itself was never actually scary? So it’s possible I wasn’t trying as hard to stay alive as people are supposed to.”

At this point, everyone was staring in stunned shock. Ben couldn’t really blame them. Their therapist had covered her reaction better, but then again, Louisa had probably had at least one patient literally missing a survival instinct before. Maybe.

Klaus shrugged and continued his explanation, “See, and then there were you first three especially, and Five too when we were kids, you were all so gungho with the death-defying heroics, and Vanya wanted to get into it so bad too, it took me way too long to realize that trying not to die was actually supposed to be the default. I guess some part of me assumed all the civilians were always running and cowering because it was a scary stressful situation and they didn’t want to get hurt because, you know, injuries suck. And honestly, Dad’s general disregard for our safety and complete lack of ethical or moral compunctions over having us naïve kinder go around openly killing people didn’t really help me figure it all out. Not to mention his,” he made a weird wavy gesture with both hands, “air of irritated disappointment each time we lost a sibling. Turns out that was not actually normal or healthy! Who knew?”

With a surprising degree of restrained calm, Five asked, “When did you realize your relationship with death was dysfunctional?”

“Okay, bit of a harsh and borderline indecent way to put it. But I’d say the realization fully settled in, oh, sometime in Vietnam?”

Eyes widened, palms met faces, and Ben sighed hard.

He could practically hear Five’s self-restraint cracking. “You had Ben’s ghost following you around for over a decade, and still didn’t realize death was a bad thing until you were in an actual war zone?”

“See?” Ben pointed at Five. “What did I tell you?”

Klaus looked between the two of them and whined, “Why are you guys ganging up on me about this? I already said sorry!” He turned more to Five. “I don’t know, I guess I thought all Ben’s fussing about me dying was because he’d already done it, you know? Like how there’s always that one guy in whatever group who mistook wasabi for something else one time, and he’s forever bringing it up and warning everybody about it, like, every time anyone even mentions Japanese food.”

Ben sighed even harder and more pointedly.

“Oh my God, Ben, we both know you don’t need to breathe; what’s with all the disappointed huffing and puffing?”

Allison raised a finger warningly. “Nope, Klaus, I definitely agree with Ben on this. Pretty sure we all do. Right?”

Luther, Diego, and Five all nodded, as Vanya added gently, “Yeah. Dying is bad. Even if you think it won’t stick, I think we’d all appreciate if you didn’t do it anymore. Please?”

Something about her soft sincerity seemed to get to Klaus, because he swallowed hard before replying, “Course, Vanny. I, uh, I promise. Cross my heart and hope not to die.”

Luther’s eyes were still damp as he turned in his seat to better face Klaus. “Hey, would it be okay if…” He opened his arms tentatively.

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Klaus leaned in, and Luther gently wrapped his arms around his brother. One big hand came to rest on the back of Klaus’ head as he tucked his forehead against Luther’s chest.

Almost mirroring them, Allison stretched an arm around Vanya’s shoulders, and she snuggled against Allison’s side in response.

Ben swallowed back his envy. They’d been working on it. Soon, he’d hug Luther and Vanya and everyone. Even Five, which was something he’d never even dared to dream of after… everything.

He glanced over at Diego and Five, and was a little surprised to see envy there as well.

On second thought, he supposed Five made sense, given the obvious conflict between his yearning for closeness with his treasured living siblings and his fear of losing them, of hurting them, of being hurt, of everything to do with messy human relationships.

Diego, however… He’d been quiet. This meeting, last meeting, honestly pretty much since he’d come back from the alternate future. Number Two had always alternated between quiet and loud, but this had been an unusually long stretch of largely-uninterrupted quiet.

If they had still been kids (if he had still been alive), Ben would have taken his current book to wherever Diego would be practicing his throws, waited for the inevitable missed mark from overworked powers or distracted attention, and asked a soft question or two to provoke his brother into spilling his troubles.

As it was, Ben could make a few guesses. The 1960s mental institution thing was probably related to Diego’s reticence during the family therapy meetings, but he actually seemed to be processing that pretty well overall (at least, well by Diego’s standards). Then there were his obviously tangled feelings regarding the mysterious Lila, which everyone else was being unusually supportive about (at least, supportive by the Hargreeves’ standards). And, of course, there was his lost lady friend Detective Eudora Patch. It had been a while for him, but coming back to right after her death had clearly stirred up some of the grief.

Not long after the time jump, an officer and a detective had come by to ask Diego some questions. In a rare display of foresight, the family had actually planned for this. (This time, that was. Seemed it had gone badly last time.) They had decided beforehand to pretty much tell the police the truth, minus the alternate future stuff and any directly Commission-related details.

As the story went, Diego had been looking into the shootings around town in his capacity as a concerned citizen (pronounced ‘vigilante’). Then the house had been invaded by two lunatics in masks who had shot up the place, fought three combat-trained super-powered residents to a draw, and escaped. (This was corroborated by the house’s shot-up state, which had yet to be fixed at that point.) The siblings present afterwards had been under the mistaken impression that Klaus had left the house after a family meeting (pronounced ‘argument’) earlier, and so they had failed to realize at the time that he had been kidnapped in the attack.

However, their recently-returned, young-looking brother Five had also gone missing again. Diego had told Patch about the home invasion and that one of his brothers was missing, then gone looking for Five.

On a related note, Diego had taken the opportunity to officially inform the police that the missing child case of Number Five Hargreeves had been resolved with the reappearance of said ‘child’. Also, despite the fact that he should be exactly the same age as the rest of his siblings, Five still looked thirteen, though he acted older. Oh, and he claimed to have disappeared due to a time travel mishap, grown up in an alternate future, and physically de-aged in a second time travel mishap that had landed him on the day of their father’s funeral. This was verified by Five porting in, glaring suspiciously, tersely backing up Diego’s story, and porting back out.

As they had hoped would be the case, the cops had looked like the whole bewildering mess was above their pay grade, and declined to press for more on that matter at the moment.

Ben had missed the next part, as he’d gone to give Klaus his cue to wander through the entrance hall and ‘run across’ the questioning in progress. (The dramatic timing aspect of the plan had been important in securing Klaus’ buy-in.)

Having finished hearing Diego’s part of the story (when they’d arrived, he’d still been a little choked up from recounting finding Eudora’s body), the detective had said to stick around, but give them some space for a bit to interview Klaus.

Klaus had proceeded to relate a highly stylized version of the events of his kidnapping, ending with Detective Patch overhearing his noises of distress, entering the room, asking if he was Diego’s brother, and freeing him. He wasn’t sure what had happened after that because, as he went to get out of the way and make his escape out a ventilation shaft, his view was obscured by all the ghosts. Oh, hadn’t he mentioned? Yes, he was the Séance, legal name Number Four Hargreeves. And his kidnappers had, just, so many ghosts following them around. The spirits were especially pissed at the woman, who they and the man had called Cha-Cha, by the way. She was a real nasty piece of work.

Was there anything that would corroborate his story? Oh sure, just check the blood on the chair at the crime scene.

(From his vantage point on the banister, Ben was the only one to see the scowl of concern that crossed Five’s face as he eavesdropped from the mezzanine level.)

Yes, if they did the right tests, they would find that it belonged to a super-rare blood group. And, unless one of the other ‘miracle children’ had also gotten into hot water with local law enforcement at some point, the only other example of that group in their records should be his.

(Not that Dad had ever so much as hinted to them that there had been surviving miracle babies other than themselves. One of their ‘recent world history’ lessons back in the day had briefly mentioned that most had died from abandonment, delivery complications while far from medical services, or superstitious infanticide; the implication being that they were the remainder. And then Ben’s siblings had come back from an alternate future talking about Lila and the possibility of others. Really would have been nice to know about earlier, even if only because having such a small rare blood group was a bitch in the kinds of medical emergency situations his siblings found themselves in way too often.)

After they’d interviewed Klaus, the detective had located Diego and given him an off-the-record update. (Definitely not in accordance with procedure, but Diego had grown up to be surprisingly good at winning people over and gaining their loyalty.) Apparently the cops had at one point been looking at Diego as a person of interest due to his fingerprints at the scene. But then they’d gotten a tip that led them to a different hotel room, where they’d found the murder weapon, complete with fingerprints that returned some impossible matches. The distinctive and near-identical descriptions of the pair who’d checked in at both rooms pretty much cinched it. The cops had put out a BOLO for the suspects and been staking out the room where they’d found the gun, but no dice so far.

Diego had earnestly thanked the detective, who’d promised an invite the next time ‘the guys’ went out for a drink. Then the detective rescued the officer from Klaus, and they left on good terms.

Looking back, that day was the last time Ben had heard Diego talk so much at a stretch. Which wouldn’t have been unusual, except that he was the only one who hadn’t shared anything personal in their new type of family meetings.

Well, no, Allison hadn’t shared yet either. But, since the time jump, she’d been putting much more than the court-mandated effort into her own therapy. When she’d gone on her four-day trip to LA with Luther and, surprisingly, Five in tow, she’d met with her therapist and apparently convinced him to change her therapy format to phone sessions so that she could ‘stay close to her family’ for a while. Even more surprisingly, she’d reportedly managed to convince him of the whole unbelievable situation (likely Five had something to do with that), and also increased the frequency of her sessions.

To Ben’s knowledge, she’d had three of those phone sessions already. None of which he had eavesdropped on, as he had been proud to report (and Klaus had been proud to enable him to report) to Louisa when she’d asked about his progress on boundaries during their own most recent session.

After Allison’s first phone session, she had gone and had a private discussion with Luther that hadn’t involved any raised voices but had ended in tears for both of them. At which point Allison had detoured to change into pajamas and grab some nail polish. Then she’d showed up at Klaus’ room requesting a manicure and offering reciprocation, which he of course accepted. Just like old times. Klaus hadn’t even directly asked about the clear evidence of tears on her face, only whether she wanted to talk about it. She hadn’t, and Klaus wasn’t really one to push.

After the second session, she’d invited Vanya over for a wine-and-old-movies sister night that honestly seemed to be an excuse to cuddle on a couch in the screening room before they fell asleep halfway through the second movie. Ben had been able to draw out just enough of Klaus’ power to pull their blanket over them properly and turn off the projector.

After the third, Allison had located a phonebook (with Pogo’s help) and gotten to the task of finally scheduling someone to come fix the chandelier. Then she’d dragged everyone to a furniture store (except Five, who had abused his power to escape) where they selected replacements for not only the damaged furnishings, but also for some undamaged pieces that were just uncomfortable. Allison had even found a business specializing in antique and vintage furniture and scheduled them to take away the old stuff for repair and resale. It had been a very productive day.

Overall, Ben felt like Allison was on a good trajectory for healing and growth even without their informal group therapy.

On the other hand, he was a little concerned about Diego, who wasn’t getting any outside assistance so far as Ben was aware. He was reluctant to mention it to Klaus, who could be unpredictable in his level of tact and delicacy bringing up such matters. He’d give Diego one more shot. If he hadn’t shared anything by the end of their next family therapy meeting, Ben was siccing Klaus on him.

While Ben had been reminiscing and considering, life had gone on around him.

“Really,” Vanya was insisting, “I’ll talk to Pogo about the glazier. I’m the one who cracked the windows, after all.”

Allison asked, “You’re sure?”

Vanya nodded resolutely. “Putting it off any more isn’t going to help. Friday before dinner, I’ll talk to him. About the windows, and then… we’ll see how it goes.”

Allison patted her on the knee. “You can always just talk about the repairs, start slow, and leave anything heavier for later. But if you feel ready, I think it’s a good idea.”

Everyone was wearing expressions of mingled concern and support. Okay, this definitely had something to do with the reason Vanya had been avoiding Mom and especially Pogo since coming back in time. Yes, everyone had been avoiding Pogo at least a little, which made sense given it had come to light that he’d been keeping a lot of secrets. But Vanya in particular had been avoiding him so thoroughly, Ben didn’t think he’d even seen the two of them in the same room since the time jump. He’d have to ask Klaus about that later, because it looked like he was privy to the background info as well.

“Okay,” Allison said purposefully. “So, Friday, Vanya will talk to Pogo, then we’ll all have dinner, then we’ll talk out what the hell was going on with everyone during… well, during the pre-apocalypse weeks at least. Anyone have anything to add?”

Klaus sent Ben a look, and he gave back an encouraging nod.

“Actually, me and Ben have been practicing, and… Five, you pretty much admitted you’d let Ben hug you when I can keep him corporeal longer, right?”

Five nodded cautiously.

A grin spread across Klaus’ face. “Well, we’re up to a couple minutes simultaneously visible and tangible. Even without, you know, life-or-death levels of adrenaline.” He waved his arms in a flourish of presentation. “Voilà!”

Ben had so far learned to distinguish one main sign of tangibility: the floor was giving more resistance against his feet than usual. It was a subtle sort of feedback, not quite like what he remembered touch feeling like.

Less subtle were the blue glow and the sharp intakes of breath from most of his siblings as he became visible.

Five stood up suddenly, his face frozen, then began to move towards Ben like a sleepwalker.

“Hey, Five. Been a while, hasn’t it?” Ben took the last couple steps to close the distance. Taking care to telegraph his movements, he reached out and wrapped his arms around his oldest, smallest, long-lost brother.

He was there. He was really there. This wasn’t Ben’s old sense of touch, but the physicality of it was still intoxicating, and so new. That’s probably why it took him a few seconds to realize that Five was trembling.

“Thought I’d never see you again,” he confessed into Ben’s shoulder. “I should have been there; maybe I could have- could have done…”

Ben shook his head and gripped tighter. “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. At least, none of yours.” Relieved to finally have said that and been heard, he lifted his eyes to look at his other siblings over the top of Five’s bowed head. He saw universal smiles, and more than one set of glistening eyes. Including, to his surprise, Klaus’.

No longer trembling, Five slowly pulled himself away and took a couple steps back, his eyes locked on Ben’s face.

The rest seemed to take that as a signal to go in for a group hug. Well, most of them.

“Klaus,” Ben insisted, “you get in here too.”

Of course, he leapt up and clamped onto Ben’s back with all four limbs like a baby monkey, and only Luther’s strength kept them all from toppling like dominoes. Over Diego’s shoulder, through Allison’s curls, Ben glimpsed Five smiling unselfconsciously.

This. He had thought he’d never get to interact with anyone but Klaus ever again, and now this. “I missed you all, so much.”

And just as Ben sensed everyone’s arms tightening around him, Klaus’ power ran out.

Diego, Allison, and Vanya fell into Luther, who stumbled, unbalanced, but remained upright.

Klaus, his entire support no longer corporeal, dropped like a stone. He reflexively slapped out to protect his spine the way they’d learned as small children, then lay on his back, blinking at the ceiling.

Five let out a single startled laugh, and suddenly everyone else was dissolving into giggles. Ben included.

He caught Klaus’ eye, and quieted his laughter long enough to say, “Thank you. Just, thank you so much.”

A proud, childlike grin brightened Klaus’ face in return.

For the first time he could remember, Ben began to let himself hope that they were all going to be okay.