Chapter Text
It felt like the worst hangover of his life, and Five knew a thing or two about hangovers. He was an expert in this kind of crap, almost more than anyone else in his family. Well, maybe Klaus was a couple of levels ahead.
Right now, he felt so awful he wanted to put a bullet in his head. And he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. Or tried to sit up.
His head was spinning and splitting at the same time. His stomach churned. He could barely feel his own body—his left arm, in particular, seemed completely numb.
What happened yesterday? Luther’s wedding? Was that where he got this wasted?
No. Something else happened after that…
Five forced his eyes open. The room spun like he was lying in a centrifuge. Nausea surged, and he shut his eyes again.
“Hey, buddy.” Diego’s voice slipped into his mind like a thief sneaking into an empty house. “How are you?”
Five opened his eyes again. Turned his head toward the sound and tried to focus on his brother’s face. Maybe that would make the spinning stop.
“Fantastic. Why do you ask?” he croaked, barely recognizing his own voice.
Diego looked pale. Unusually pale. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his usually deep brown skin looked ashen. He turned away and reached for something on the nightstand.
He handed Five a glass of water with a straw. Five struggled to sit up, propping himself up with his right arm—his left was still completely numb—and caught the straw between his lips. Then he grabbed the glass itself. He took a few sips, never taking his eyes off Diego, and froze.
Right. Luther’s wedding was two days ago. And after that? Kugelblitz swallowed everything. Dad killed Luther and Klaus. They all ended up in Oblivion, and…
Five blinked again, trying to shake off the dizziness, and moved his gaze from his brother’s face to his own left arm.
“Shit,” he muttered.
So, this wasn’t the worst hangover of his life. This was yet another apocalypse they screwed up.
He handed the glass back to Diego and touched the bandaged stump. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, but Five didn’t even flinch. He already felt like complete crap. But now, he also had a ton of questions.
“I take it Allison didn’t succeed.”
“We don’t know,” Diego answered immediately. “Allison is gone.”
“Gone?”
“At least, she’s not in Oblivion. We searched everywhere. As much as we could,” Diego placed the glass back on the nightstand and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward slightly. “There’s no way out either.”
“Obviously.” Five pushed himself up again, trying to sit properly. “How’s everyone else?”
“You got hit the worst. Sloane is already up, though we haven’t removed the stitches yet. The rest of us… well, we’re shaken, but we’re managing.”
“You look like a corpse, Diego.”
“Yeah, but a much more alive corpse than a couple of days ago.”
Five studied his brother, trying to process what he had just heard. So, they were slowly recovering from having those golden particles extracted?
“How long was I out?”
“By our count… a couple of days.”
“Well, at least I finally got some sleep.”
“You don’t look like it.”
“Doesn’t feel like it either.”
Five didn’t feel any better. In fact, the longer he sat, the worse he felt. The nausea wasn’t coming in waves anymore; it was just sitting in his throat like a solid lump. And the room was still constantly moving.
“I need to lie down a little longer,” Five said. “Because right now, I feel like if I stay upright for even five more minutes, I’ll start throwing up and never stop.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Diego nodded. “Lie down. I’ll get you more water. Viktor will come by later to change your bandages.”
Five glanced at his arm again. Now, the nausea wasn’t just physical—it was psychological. Forty-five years in the apocalypse, and he’d never lost a limb. But one month with his family, and he’s already missing an arm? Fantastic. Great start.
Then again, was this even a real start? If they were now stuck who-knows-where, who-knows-when, with no way out of this hotel?
Five let out a heavy sigh. Gritted his teeth, fighting off another wave of nausea—not that there was anything left in his system but water—and changed his position again. He lay back against the pillow, so his head tilted back. Pressed his right hand against his left shoulder, just above the stump, and closed his eyes.
“We’ll survive this, Diego. Tell the others that. I know for sure.”
And he really did believe it. Because, apparently, that was exactly what his century-old self had been warning him about.
Five fell into a restless sleep as soon as Diego turned off the light and left the room. He didn’t dream, but he constantly teetered somewhere between unconscious floundering in the dark void and an awareness of the reality surrounding him. The nausea subsided along with the dizziness, but it was replaced by fever. And the oblivion that Five so desperately wanted was disturbed by the feeling of sweat-soaked sheets sticking to his skin.
Several times, someone came to him to place an ice pack wrapped in a towel on his forehead or change the bandage on his arm. But he didn’t know who (probably Viktor, as Diego promised) or how many times.
Nor did he know how long he had slept this time.
It was just that, at some point, the void stopped pushing him away, and Five fell into a heavy sleep. When he woke up, he wasn’t shaking or feeling like he was going to throw up. His arm hurt unbearably, but other than that, he felt almost fine. He was wearing a fresh pajama with the hotel’s logo, Oblivion. And the bed linen seemed to be clean as well.
Five grabbed the edge of the bed to help himself stand. He placed his feet on the floor. He gripped the rough carpet with his toes. He blinked hard, moved his hand to the back of the bed, and stood up.
He didn’t feel terrible, of course, but his body still obeyed him very poorly. Five decided against testing his teleportation ability and instead, still in his pajamas and barefoot, walked to the door. He peered out into the hallway. Then he moved on, supporting himself with his right hand against the wall. He didn’t listen too closely to the silence in the corridor, but he was heading purposefully towards the elevator. If his siblings (and now, he considered Lila and Sloan as sisters as well) had gathered anywhere, it was definitely downstairs. At least one of them would probably be stuffing their stomach with sushi or drowning their stress in the bar.
However, the elevator dinged and opened before Five reached the button. Klaus stepped into the hallway, carrying a metal bucket, and stopped, looking at Five.
“Are you all taking turns coming to me with ice?” Five asked. “And changing bandages?”
“With ice, yes. With bandages, no,” Klaus replied, as if slightly flustered. Then, in a few steps, he crossed the distance between them and grabbed Five’s right elbow with his free hand. “Where are you going?”
“Down,” Five tilted his head back to look Klaus in the face. “Aren’t you all sitting down there?”
“Right now, mostly in our rooms, as you can imagine. Nobody understands what’s going on, and you were unconscious.”
“Well, I’m not unconscious anymore,” Five took another step towards the elevator, but Klaus tightened his grip and pulled him back. Five felt a sting of anger — Klaus was trying to dictate to him what to do, and Five couldn’t tolerate that. He turned his head back to Klaus and hissed:
“Klaus. I’ve already spent enough time sleeping. You didn’t do anything during that time, and God knows how much time we have left…”
“We definitely don’t need to rush,” Klaus responded melodiously. “We decided not to save the world, remember? And there’s still no way out of the hotel.”
His words made sense. But that didn’t make Five feel any better.
“Still, help me get downstairs,” he finally exhaled. “I want to look at the sigil again. And maybe eat something.”
“That’s better,” Klaus smiled. His grip softened. He moved it from Five’s elbow to his shoulder. And so, supporting him, he helped Five get to the elevator. Five grabbed the handrail inside, and Klaus pressed the button.
The doors chimed again, closing, and the elevator began to descend.
Five glanced at his brother, still holding the ice bucket and towel against his side. Klaus looked much better than Diego had a couple of days ago. He wondered, did they all feel this much better, or was it just a manifestation of Klaus’ immortality?
Speaking of which…
“Our abilities…” Five began. Klaus immediately turned to look him in the eyes and smiled.
“Still intact. And it seems like they haven’t even worsened.”
“Good. And the others…”
“Not pale wretches anymore,” Klaus predicted his next question. “Looks like the marigold inside us can self-replicate, and it helps us recover.”
Five squinted and nodded several times.
“Right,” he said. “I always suspected that we all have some degree of regeneration.”
“Yeah.”
As soon as the doors opened, Klaus again supported Five by the healthy shoulder and slowly guided him out.
Five was gradually feeling better, and his body was responding more and more, but for now, he decided to let Klaus help him a bit. It was better than stubbornly resisting and tumbling down the stairs as a result.
There was nobody in the bar or near the sushi bar. However, the floor where the seven stars had appeared was stained with burgundy smudges. They had clearly tried to clean it, almost successfully, but in the tile seams, there was still blood from Klaus, Five and Sloan. It made the pattern even clearer, sharper. Five bit his cheek in irritation and turned away.
“What happened to Dad’s body?”
“We hid it in the basement freezer. Couldn’t think of anything else,” Klaus answered immediately.
“And Allison…”
“Five,” Klaus grabbed him by both shoulders and sharply turned him towards himself. “Can you at least relax for five minutes? You’ve been out for five days, you lost your arm, you’re definitely not okay. Give yourself at least five minutes to heal.”
“Wow,” Five recoiled. Wasn’t it Klaus who had dragged him into the adventure of finding his biological mother? Wasn’t it Diego who demanded answers from him about what was happening right here and now, when they had just arrived at the Sparrow Academy timeline? “Wow, how noble,” Five continued, frowning so hard that his forehead hurt. “Did I really deserve to retire and do nothing?”
“You deserve to recover peacefully, Five,” Klaus let go of his shoulders and, frowning, threw his hands up. “We thought you wouldn’t make it.”
“Wouldn’t make it?”
“Your body is the youngest of all,” Klaus began explaining. “You lost a lot of blood. And what our papa did didn’t help the situation at all.”
Five stepped back. He placed his hand on his left shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if protecting his new weak spot. Though Klaus wasn’t attacking him — either verbally or physically. But Five got scared by his words. His stomach did an odd flip that didn’t match any of his biological understanding.
“I know how I die,” Five said quietly.
“Well, our future here hasn’t been about fulfilling our expectations for a long time,” Klaus sighed sadly. “Anyway, Five… Why don’t you settle for a snack and a cup of sweet tea, then go back to your room?”
“You know perfectly well that it doesn’t work like that.”
“Damn, you know what? I don’t give a shit,” Klaus hugged him by the shoulders and gently nudged him towards the tables. “You won’t be able to think or do anything anyway if no one answers your questions. And you know, I’ll make sure no one blurts anything unnecessary.”
“So, you’ve figured something out after all?” Five grabbed onto Klaus’s words like a lifeline. His brother immediately laughed,
“Five, what are you talking about? Without you, we have two brain cells, one with Lila, and the other with Sloan, and neither one is in the mood or in a state to decide anything right now.”
“I hate you,” Five sighed in resignation. Then he finally sat down on the nearest chair. He leaned on it with his elbow and rubbed his face with his only palm. “No, really, I hate you.”
“You hate us, but you love us,” Klaus corrected him. “Sit here, I’ll figure something out for you to eat.”