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If Allison Hargreeves had to choose one thing she felt when the wailing bundle of new life was first placed in her arms that feeling would have been tired. No - not tired - exhausted. She felt so utterly, inescapably drained that she could barely bring herself to utter the name she had chosen for her baby. She’d decided to name the child Claire; she didn’t know what the name meant and when she looked back she didn’t really know why she’d picked it at all really. She could recall that same feeling once she met her daughter. It was worse than just being apathetic over a naming choice, though. It was the feeling of not knowing why she’d even decided to have a child. Patrick had really wanted children, but Allison hadn’t been sure she was ready for that responsibility. Patrick was adamant about it, he just kept asking and pushing and demanding until ignoring it became practically unbearable.
She could have just rumoured him into shutting up about the subject, she knew that, but she didn’t want to rumour her own husband- filmmakers and directors sure, but not her own family.
How great at staying away from that she turned out to be.
Perhaps that was why she agreed to it, if she wasn’t open to the idea of avoiding becoming a mother in the most effective way she could maybe, deep down, she didn’t really mind the prospect of parenthood. Perhaps she wanted to be a parent really and all of her worries were just based on memories of Reginald.
Patrick was overjoyed at her decision, but that delight quickly faded when he was expect to actually raise the child. It clearly hadn’t been what he’d expected or hoped for and it quickly became the sole responsibility of Allison to look after Claire. Unfortunately, Allison didn’t have the emotional capacity or drive to look after their daughter properly either. She just didn’t feel the joy of it. That moment of indescribable love and warmth she’d seen in all the movies - the feelings she had played out herself for a movie once, they weren’t there.
It wasn’t that she felt disgust at the sight of her child, it was just that everything felt so dulled down it was easy to miss the affection building at the back of her heart. She wished she could say she felt much of any kind of emotion at all when they first met, but there was nothing.
After being discharged from the hospital, she waited. She sat in the living room into the early hours of the morning, alone except for the baby in it’s crib, and waited. She had spent so long anticipating joy that never came, it was as if all the colour had been drained from her life and all she was left with was a bleak, grey void of emotion. She didn’t feel like doing much of anything after that.
Patrick didn’t understand, he didn’t even try to. He couldn’t understand why she was being so lazy all of a sudden, why she was neglecting her - their, Allison had to remind herself- baby. There was no emotional support offered, not a single mention of therapy, just him trying to get her to ‘pull herself together’. The worst part was that he was right, Allison had been in the Umbrella Academy since birth, she should be able to ignore her issues and solider on by now! That emptiness just felt so different to anything she’d experienced before. She’d heard of postnatal depression but could never believe she would suffer so badly from it. She was a superhuman, a successful actress, she was one of the most powerful people on the planet, surely something as common as baby blues couldn’t ruin her resolve that easily.
——
It was a few months into Claire’s life that Allison broke. Claire just wouldn’t stopped crying; Allison had tried everything to soothe her and had reached her wit’s end. Patrick was out with some friends, as he had taken to doing increasingly often ever since the newest edition to their family had arrived. Her daughter’s ceaseless wailing was drilling a hole into her brain, the noise was so shrill, so high pitched that she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She stood up and walked over to the cradle where she could see her tiny child laying inside, mouth open and crying in distress as nobody had interacted with her in the past hour. Allison wanted to pick her up and hold her but she didn’t; all she did was whisper.
“I heard a rumour you stopped crying.”
Immediately the crying ceased and (after a second of her eyes clouding with milky white film) Claire stared up at her parent with silent adoration. A singular tiny hand reached up. Allison hesitated for a second, caught between her desire to give affection and her weariness before turning away and ascending the stairs to her bedroom. She passed out on the bed almost immediately, exhausted and alone.
——
Claire was a fairly quiet child for the first few years of her life, she was happy to keep to herself with her Umbrella Academy comics and toys, and if she wasn’t it was nothing a quick rumour couldn’t fix. Some days it was easy to forget she was even in the house until it was time for dinner.
That all changed on her fourth birthday, Allison and Patrick had pulled together a large celebration to which they had invited some reputable media photographers so they could show the world what good parents they were being. If they didn’t, did any of it even count?
Once all had been set up and Claire’s few friends had arrived, Allison called into the house to tell her daughter the party was ready. Claire bimbled up the patio heading to where the presents were before she stopped in her tracks hesitantly. She’d seen all the camera people and had become nervous. She put her hands over her ears and stepped backwards.
“Come on, sweetie, we’ve set all this up and we can’t start without our birthday girl.” Patrick gently reassured.
Claire just shook her head.
Allison felt all eyes land on her, this wasn’t going how she’d planned, she was going to look like she had no idea what she was doing in front of millions of people. She could see the headlines now: Allison Hargreeves, former superhero, unable to control four year old child. Sign of neglect or incompetence?
“Claire, Mommy and Daddy have planned this party just for you. You want to celebrate, don’t you?”
“I want them to go away.” Claire croaked as she stared at the small crowed of people she’d never met.
Allison took a deep breath. “They’re friends of mine. I’ve invited them here, okay?”
Claire’s arms dropped to her sides, and her voice rose in anger. “No! I want it to just be us!”
“Listen-“
Allison didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because Claire shrieked at that moment. Having decided this was enough, she grabbed her daughter by her wrist and pulled her into the house.
“What is all this about?” Allison demanded. She had no idea where this sudden burst of temper came from.
“Mommy, you’re spending time with your work friends again! I want to be with you and Daddy.” She went a little quieter at that final line and Allison hoped this was a sign she was about to give in and behave.
“We’re both here with you, just calm down.”
To her dismay, Claire’s temper picked up again. “No! Why are those people always there wherever we go? Why won’t you stop ignoring me?”
Hurt stirred up within Allison. How could Claire insinuate she was anything but a good and loving mother?
“I do not ignore you. If you had any idea how hard I work to keep this family afloat-“
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
“Claire, please listen-“
“I hate you!”
Allison’s breath caught in her throat. The shouting she could handle but this- this was too much. Her daughter didn’t hate her. She couldn’t. They meant to be were a perfect family. They were supposed to love each other. Allison knew her relationship with Claire had was never as close as she’d have liked it to be but now it was crumbling to dust right before her eyes. She couldn’t lose this - she couldn’t let another person in her life abandon her. But there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing except…
“I heard a rumour that you loved me.”
The second those words left her mouth a sense of calm descended upon the room, Claire’s eyes shifted from red hot anger to a cool, empty white veil for a few precious heartbeats. Then she cast her eyes downwards.
“I’m sorry I upset you, Mommy.” Claire mumbled regretfully.
Allison lets put the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her daughter loved her. Of course she did. They were made for each other.
“It’s alright, baby, I forgive you.”
Allison would have gone on but at that moment Claire stepped forwards and wrapped her little arms around Allison’s legs. Allison gently placed her hand on top of her daughter’s head and they stayed there for a couple of perfect heartbeats before she turned to look towards the doorway.
“Now, come on, you’ve got lots of presents to unwrap.” Allison declared cheerfully.
“Presents! I love you, Mommy. You’re the best.”
——
She’d hoped the tantrums would have just stopped after that, but they didn’t. Soon Claire would kick off about anything and everything: not liking what Allison made for dinner, wanting to take more than one toy with her to the park, wanting to stay home instead of going to school, Patrick having gone out all day for the third time that week. In all fairness, that last one had been rather reasonable; if Allison spent little time with Claire, Patrick avoided her like the plague. He had been so exited to meet her when she was born, but soon after he begun to conveniently ‘forget’ whenever it was his turn to look after her and only ever made an effort with her a small handful of times. But still, it wasn’t fair for Claire to take that frustration out on Allison. It wasn’t her fault her husband was too busy with his friends to ever be around.
So the rumours spiralled on, and each time one reached her ears, Claire formed more into Allison’s idea of the perfect daughter. All in all, despite their more than rocky start; Allison, Claire and Patrick seemed to be getting on just fine and they doubtless would have continued that way if it hadn’t been for the night Patrick came home early.
——
Allison was left to put Claire to bed all on her own once again when Patrick had gone out to yet another get together with some friends of his who Allison had never met. The night hadn’t been as much of a struggle as usual, Claire had wanted Allison to play with her a bit before it was bedtime but Allison felt so exhausted from the long day of preparing for work on her next film that all she wanted to do was relax on the sofa and read a book. Claire had been disappointed but mercifully hadn’t thrown a tantrum over it. She’d just sat silently on the floor with her toys, but Allison was distraught to notice that Claire wasn’t playing with them at all, just sitting and sniffling quietly.
Allison felt horrible for brushing Claire off earlier that night, so she had promised her a bedtime story. Claire loved stories and and the sharing of them always felt as if it were the one way Allison had of bonding with her daughter.
Once she’d finally coaxed the wriggling child into her bed covers, Allison had asked what kind of story she would like. She was unsurprised to hear Claire ask to be regaled with another tale from the Umbrella Academy. Allison always found slight amusement in how those old stories captured her imagination so well, although it was always mixed with slight disdain. In reality, it hurt to remember those events sometimes; not that she had felt overly afraid of the missions as a child, but because looking back on it was an adult made her realise just how much danger she and her brothers had been put in at such a young age. They’d thought Reginald, their so called father, had somewhat cared for them, or at least had been proud of the achievements but really it had all been manipulation and lies. To look at Claire and think those kinds of thoughts? It was all so painful it was hard to handle.
She had already been worn out that night, and the suggestion of telling Claire the same story once again exhausted her beyond belief. She wanted to tell the story well but her eyes were heavy with tiredness and the day had just seemed to drag on, leaving her impatient for it to finally be over. So she had rushed through it haphazardly, leaving out any and all details in favour of the basic outline. The story could only have taken her about thirty seconds to recount and after she’d finished she stood up to leave. She was instantly hit with Claire’s disappointed face.
“One more story, Mommy. I wanna hear the one about the Eiffel Tower.”
“No, Claire,” Allison responded, “It’s past your bedtime.”
“Mommy, please, just one more.”
Allison just wanted to be out of the room at that point, seeing her own child disappointed like this was not the note she wanted to end the day on. Why couldn’t Claire just want to go to sleep?
“I’ll read to you tomorrow.” Allison had tried to sound cheerful about that prospect.
“But I’m not tired!”
Not another tantrum. Not another one please, please-
“Claire-“
“But I want one!”
She didn’t want to use her power she just wanted the child to go to sleep.
“Mommy, come on. I want a story.”
Allison felt herself tremble.
“I heard a rumour… that you’re really tired… and you wanna go to sleep.”
Claire gave a long yawn. “I’m so tired, Mommy.”
Allison chuckled and delivered a gentle kiss to Claire’s forehead.
“I know, Sweetie. Goodnight.”
She walked out of the room feeling odd. She felt bad for rumouring her daughter again but pleased that Claire would get a good night’s sleep from it. They would spend more time together tomorrow: Allison would read stories all day long and Claire would sit there entranced. She just needed more energy, that was it. Once she got a good rest then she could give Claire the proper attention she deserved.
Those thoughts stopped abruptly when she saw Patrick standing at the door with his arms crossed. He’d seen it all.
“Let’s talk about this downstairs. I’d hate to wake our child.” His voice was low and dangerously spiteful.
“Patrick- please- I can explain this.”
Patrick didn’t answer her, he simply walked off and left Allison to trail after him. All the while she wondered if she could rumour him as well, just make him forget it. Perhaps make him stay around more often. They could all be so happy then. She didn’t do it. She felt like her jaw had locked closed whenever she tried to say ‘I heard a rumour’.
Once they reached the kitchen Patrick whirled around to face her.
“What the fuck was that?”
Allison’s refusal to accept that kind of tone from his only barely outweighed the shame she had felt in that moment. “I just needed her to get to sleep.”
“Oh, and you couldn’t have tried another way? Any other way?”
He didn’t understand that there wasn’t another way. If he was ever around he’d know that.
“She wouldn’t go to sleep unless I read her another story.”
“Well, read her another story then. You’re her mother, that’s what mothers are supposed to do.”
Allison wanted to scream- what did he know about how to be a mother? She hated the voice he’d spoken in, it was sarcastic in an almost sickly sweet way. It reminded her of Five, strangely enough.
“And what are you supposed to do then, Patrick? If my job is to feed her, and take her to school, and be with her when she gets home, and read her stories at bedtime what’s your job then?”
Patrick eyes flashed with indignation. “My job is to protect her. Protect her from you.”
Allison felt her heart stop. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant.
“No- you’re not going to take her from me! You wouldn’t last a day just you and her! You won’t dare try. This will be a massive scandal.”
To Allison’s surprise, Patrick smiled in that moment- not a cruel smile, but one of something closer to relief than anything else, although it didn’t reduce the triumph in his voice. “It will be a scandal alright, one you won’t get out of unscathed. And then Claire and I can live happily, free from you!”
“You- you just want to get out this marriage looking good, don’t you? You don’t care about Claire-“
Patrick stepped forwards so his face was right up against her’s. He’d stopped smiling now. “Don’t you ever say I don’t care about my daughter.”
She was begging to feel a little bit intimidated now. Patrick had never laid hands on her but he was quite a bit taller than she was and she had never seen him so angry. She’d spent her childhood battle training but she hadn’t practiced in years.
“I heard a-“
He darted forwards and grabbed her wrist tightly; so tightly it hurt.
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”
Getting desperate, Allison struck him hard on the face to force him to let her go. Patrick stumbled back and then begun chucking.
“Perfect, this is just perfect. Because this totally doesn’t make you look like a monster.”
Allison stared at her hand, the one she’d used to hit him. Her fist was still clenched. Her wrist was red from being held so firmly. What was wrong with her? She’d just rumoured her child and tried the same thing on her husband, then she’d hit him when he wouldn’t let her. She really did look like a monster. She felt like one as well. No matter what she did these pieces of Reginald would never stop showing themselves within her.
Patrick must have noticed the change in her demeanour because he stood up straight and asserted: “Expect to be delivered the divorce papers from my lawyer tomorrow.”
The he turned and unlocked the door. Allison should have known he would leave the house the second he’d finished saying his piece.
“Do you really love her?” Allison managed to ask, “Are you going to care for her when I’m gone?”
Patrick glanced over his shoulder. “You have my word.”
Then he exited the house leaving her all alone with her thoughts.
——
Claire had been distraught to hear the news that Allison would be going away. Allison did all that she could to comfort her because she loved her. She truly did. Claire told Allison she didn’t want to lose her, and Allison promised her that she’d have a great time with her father. Although she feared it was an empty promise. Every promise Allison had ever made Claire had been empty. Empty or rumoured to be true. Even in that moment Allison understood that Claire wasn’t crying over her immanent departure because she truly cared for her. It was because of that stupid rumour Allison had put on her all those years ago.
Because Claire could never truly love somebody like Allison.