Work Text:
As a blanket of blue sky and brilliant sunshine ushered in the morning of Friday 22nd November 1963, Five materialised onto the streets of Dallas. His mission was to ensure that the 35th President of the United States died on schedule. The assassination would send shockwaves around the world and throw the timeline into uncertainty and fear. The forces of Time itself would rally their defences to close the void before any further damage came to pass. The stabilisation of this notoriously vulnerable point in history was his ultimate goal and, for that to be achieved, a President had to die.
It had come as no surprise when he had been sequestered for this particular assignment. A task like this could only be entrusted to The Commission’s best agent and he had built a reputation for getting the job done and done well. In a few short hours, President John F. Kennedy was set to turn the corner onto Elm Street and come face to face with destiny.
Out of an abundance of caution, Five arrived a couple of hours early to get his bearings and soak in the atmosphere. He’d only been in town for a few minutes, but he could feel the anticipation in the air. Dallas was abuzz with excitement and people were already beginning to line the route marked out for the motorcade, which had been published in the newspaper the day before. Five had chosen an old Irish pub a few blocks away from the grassy knoll where he could pass the time in anonymity and grab a drink.
The bright sound of fiddles welcomed him as he made his way to the bar where he opted for one of the empty stools at the counter. He set his hat down in front of him and ordered a Guinness. He placed his Commission briefcase on the raised footrest under the bar before retrieving a notebook, pen and his copy of Extra Ordinary from the other suitcase that accompanied him on every mission. As he waited for his drink to arrive, he started going over some of the older notes that littered the pages of the dog-eared autobiography. He’d been making progress with some of the trickier calculations, and he had to take advantage of this recent inspiration while there was time to kill.
The bartender promptly served his pint with its head barely cresting the brim of the glass. Five thanked the man, paid and took his first refreshing mouthful, careful to wipe the froth from his moustache. He sat at the bar, drinking in the atmosphere as people came and went while he enjoyed the simple pleasures of a good beer in relative peace.
After carrying out so many high stakes missions for The Commission, he had learnt to take the time to appreciate the calm before the storm. For the briefest of moments, Five assumed the role of a present-day citizen simply living in the pocket of time before everything changed.
He never allowed himself to settle into the character completely. It could only ever be a brief indulgence for someone like him. A man who had spent so long alone that his disconnection from the world felt like a part of him that would never leave, no matter how much he did to surround himself with people and become a part of their lives. He was usually good at separating his personal feelings from the things that he deemed to be mission critical, but lately he had to admit that his mind had been wandering. A yearning for home had flourished and the idea of residing in a single time and place was becoming more irresistible by the day. He dreamed of what it would be like to belong.
Without looking up from his notebook, he sensed a large figure slowly making its way towards him. Most of his fellow patrons had burst in and stumbled past on their way to find a seat, but not this one. He hadn’t heard them come in and they moved slowly, maintaining a measured pace as they stepped closer. Five felt a shadow fall over him.
‘Five.’ He’d been addressed by name. A name that nobody in this time could possibly know. For a split second, he thought he had heard it as a question, the intonation barely perceptible over the music and chatter of the bar, but no. It had been a statement. One that sounded like success, as though this man had been searching and finally stumbled across his prey. Five turned his head to look at the man who loomed over him. He was such a large specimen that Five was surprised he had been able to fit through the door. The man stood well over 6 ft tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms barely contained by his jacket. He was big, but there was no threat or menace to him.
He was fairly certain that he’d never seen the man before but something about him lingered on the edge of Five’s memory. He knew the face but couldn’t place it. How did the man know his name? Was he here to help or hinder? Was this a test? Five always had exit strategies planned in case of emergency, but he needed time to assess which would be the least conspicuous in a bar full of revellers. He couldn’t afford to make a scene.
‘What d’you call me, big man?’ He locked eyes with the giant and tried to study the man's face for more clues. A spark of recognition flashed in the back of his mind but that only made him feel more uneasy. Five had lived a busy life during his time with The Commission. Every action created ripples like a stone being thrown into a lake. Some would emerge and disappear into the flat water from whence they came, while others rebounded off the banks in a myriad of unknowable ways. You could do everything possible to prevent the ripple rising to become a wave only to be swept away without warning. Five was ready to reach for his briefcase, but if he had to abandon the mission, he would only do so for the right reason. The tall man leant in a little closer. He seemed calm, but wary.
‘It’s me… Number One….’ This time the flash stayed and focussed light on one of his darkest days. Buried beneath the rubble of a future apocalypse, the image of his brother lying dead rushed to the surface. Five watched his dead brother claw himself from beneath the debris to stand before him and ask why he had run away. Why had Five left them all those years ago? Why had he never come back? The bodies of his other siblings pulled themselves from the makeshift graves he had worked so hard to build and flanked Number One. They demanded to know why Five had abandoned his family, but nothing he could ever say would let them rest. He had been haunted by this nightmare for over forty years, and now one of his siblings had tracked him down in 1963. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he still didn’t have any answer for his brother's questions. Five dropped his pen as he returned to his impossible reality. There was a whisper of a smile on his brother’s face, but Five had to stop himself from falling into the trap. Something was wrong and he couldn’t let this compromise the mission.
‘Luther. How do you…’ Over the years, Five had often dreamed about being reunited with his family. He had survived the apocalypse in the hopes of making it back and saving the world by their side. He’d even made a deal with the devil and sold his soul for the chance of returning to them once he’d paid his dues.
There had been many days where he would have given anything to talk to his family and explain. He wanted to tell Luther about everything that he had been through and ask about all the things that he’d missed. He wanted this moment to be kind, but what could he have possibly done for something like this to come with no strings attached?
Luther should never have been in Dallas in 1963, and he definitely should not recognise Five as he appeared now. How had Luther known where he would be and how to find him? He didn’t have the luxury of asking all the questions he needed for this to make sense. He had a job to do. Five tried to hold his brother’s gaze as he started to reach for the handle of the black briefcase by his feet.
‘It’s okay. Everything is fine. I can explain, but first I need to introduce you to somebody. Just promise me you won’t freak out.’ Five stared at his brother in complete consternation. Introduce him to somebody? What was he thinking? In what world did Luther think that the best way to quiet the spiralling list of questions would be to produce more surprises? Was their father somehow involved? Were the rest of his siblings waiting outside ready to join the festivities? He feared that his nightmare was becoming more real by the second. He tried unsuccessfully to peak behind Luther but couldn’t see past his frankly massive shoulders.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Five implored his brother for the last time. If he didn’t get a straight answer in the next few seconds, he would have to jump to another location, get to the grassy knoll and worry about this all later.
‘Don’t freak out. No freak outs. Alright…’ He refused to make any promises, but he owed his curiosity and Luther the chance to explain. There could be a completely reasonable explanation to all of this. None that he could think of and almost certainly unlikely when preceded by ‘Everything is fine but…’ Luther stepped aside and seemed to gesture towards someone standing out of sight between Five and the door.
A memory stepped out from behind the wall and stood there bold as brass. Five felt himself falling back into his nightmare. He had tried to bury this version of himself away where he could not be reached. He had dug the grave beside his siblings so that in some way they could be together in the end. He would never forget being this kid or how it felt leaving his siblings behind, but he had worked so hard to distance himself from that person to have a fighting chance of surviving the next day. He had come to hate that person and blamed every mistake he had ever made on the hubris of this child.
‘Hey there stranger,’ said the child he was still working to forgive.
As Five watched his younger self stand so assuredly before him, dressed in that damned Umbrella Academy uniform, he started to question his choices all over again and wonder why they were coming back to haunt him.
What point in his timeline had he come from? Was this a version of him who’d never left or had he travelled forward and managed to get home? How and why was he in Dallas on the very same day as his biggest job to date?
Regardless of these questions, the teenager clearly knew who he was, or he wouldn’t be here. He would have known the risks involved in being in such close proximity to another self, which meant that he was desperate and attempting something very dangerous, very stupid or most likely both. In a moment of heady contemplation, the older Five considered that this might be what being rewritten felt like and maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing. It would certainly be a quieter way to go. Whatever this was, it was important, and it had the chance of changing everything. For better or for worse.