Chapter Text
It wasn’t until later, after all the key steps had been ticked off and the plan was well underway, that Five finally admitted the obvious: he really should’ve taken a beat to pause and at least sketch out a few rough calculations before diving in headfirst. Rewinding time by hours instead of seconds was no small feat, but back then, he hadn’t been in any state to make rational decisions.
It had been a day since his fleeting happiness had crumbled to dust, an hour since Lila had delivered her final “It’s over, Five!”, and only minutes since one of his doubles, sitting across from him in that impossible café, had spelled it out: he and his family were anomalies, a glitch in the system, a threat to all living things.
As he slammed the door of Deli Max behind him, he almost believed he was ready to be done with it all. Compared to the prospect of spending eternity with a bunch of indecisive losers, it seemed like the better option. He didn’t feel like smirking cynically about the countless apocalypses, and he didn’t want to wash down the hollow ache in his chest with terrible coffee.
Let the molten lava take him, along with the rest of the marigold hosts he’d mistakenly called family. The ones he would have torn himself in half for, though they had never given a damn. So bon voyage! Lila had been right. It was all self-deception. All fake. Survival, and nothing else.
***
By the time Five stepped out of the subway and onto the deserted street, the speech was already forming in his head: the world would be better off if they all willingly sacrificed themselves to the fiery beast. He could already feel the heat rising against his skin, could picture their faces fading into thick, lava-like sludge, the tunnels linking millions of corrupted worlds collapsing into nothing—and far away, somewhere past the edge of the known, a new timeline beginning to take shape. Sunlit and green. Filled with happy people who would never know whom they owed their happiness to.
The thought brought a strange calm. He was wrecked — burned out, drained dry. And as it turned out, quite literally. As soon as he tried to blink, his vision went black, and the familiar bluish glow flickered and died. He swore under his breath and slumped against the wall, trying to steady himself. Hunger was something he’d learned to ignore; it had been a necessity during the apocalypse, and again during their long wanderings underground. But using his cursed gift required fuel. And the last proper meal he could remember was back in that other life, before he’d dared to hand Lila the notebook.
There was no longer any reason to rush. And like any proper condemned man, he figured he’d earned a last meal. Shortly, he was sitting on a bench in a dimly lit park, sipping hot coffee from a paper cup and taking bites from a bar of dark chocolate.
The fresh air and caffeine worked wonders. With every sip, his head cleared a little more, and a thought began to press more insistently: maybe he’d been too quick to give up. The moon hung over the city, full, round, and flawless. Chocolate melted on his tongue. Once, back in his first apocalypse, he would’ve considered himself lucky to die under such ideal circumstances. Now it didn’t feel like nearly enough.
Before long, he concluded that a system flawed enough to hand the wrong marigolds to the wrong people wasn’t his problem. Let the timelines splinter, let the universe tie itself in a knot, whatever.
As for him, he was used to surviving — despite logic, despite chaos, despite himself. And he had every intention of carrying on that way. Like it or not, he was still responsible for his idiot siblings. He simply had no right to let them, or this world with its fully functional moon, perish.
Not just because he’d grown old and stupid enough to believe he was the hero of a love story pinning his hopes on something that was never his. Not just because he was now stuck with the inevitable fallout.
There was only one thing left to do, and the decision came to him even before he crushed the chocolate wrapper in his fist.
***
“Take off your shoes, Cinco,” Diego said as he let him into the house.
So far, everything was going according to plan. Jennifer had been taken out, the Keepers’ leaders along with Ribbons were under surveillance. Ben, who’d gotten lost in the park, had been safely recovered by the rangers Five had hired. There was just one loose end left — Sy Grossman, or whoever was pretending to be him. But Five was almost certain that didn’t matter anymore. The main threat had been neutralized. Just a few more hours until the rewind, and he’d be able to say with some confidence that this flawed world would keep on turning, none the wiser.
Five glanced around. The house was just as he remembered: the same Christmas tree with the scruffy top in the corner, the same banister draped with a homemade garland, the same tacky painting on the wall.
But this time, he didn’t even get a moment to feel like he didn’t belong. He didn’t have time to feel anything before Gracie burst into the hallway, glowing with excitement.
“Come on, come see what I’ve got!” she shouted, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the living room.
“Look who’s finally crawled out of extinction!” Lila called from the kitchen.
Five turned toward the voice and froze. She stood in the doorway, towel in hand, and was even more beautiful than he remembered. The marks left by years of wandering had vanished. She still looked a little tired, but the spark in her eyes had returned.
“You’re early. ’Fraid you’ll have to fill in for Claire till she shows, try your hand at jewelry-making.”
She gestured toward the coffee table, where an open box overflowed with beads in every color and shape — a true treasure chest for any six-year-old girl.
“I think I’ll manage,” Five said with a crooked smile. With no one else left to remember the erased past, pretending everything was fine came much easier.
“Grandma gave it to me!” Gracie announced. “Which ones do you like best?”
“The glittery ones,” Five replied.
“Just try not to let them roll all over the house,” Lila said, disappearing back into the kitchen.
The house slowly filled with guests and the familiar buzz of voices. Diego was dispatched for napkins, grumbling all the way. Five sat cross-legged on the rug, threading colorful beads — red, blue, translucent, glittery. The rhythm of it was soothing, pulling his focus away from the gnawing anxiety inside and the chaos unfolding outside.
Lila’s relatives filtered in, Diego returned, still scowling, and Five helped Gracie finish her bracelet. By the time they’d sorted the beads by color, Luther had arrived, and one of Lila’s cousins immediately started grilling him about the dark side of the moon.
Not long after, Allison and Claire brought in a hungry but ever-cheerful Klaus. Gracie handed out bracelets like party favors. By the time Viktor showed up, everyone was already at the table. Ben was the only one missing, but Five wasn’t too worried. As Luther took his seat, he explained that Ben had wandered the woods for so long, he’d sworn not to get out of bed for a week.
Five noted each family member’s arrival with quiet relief, though he barely joined in the conversation. His reality had always been a few steps removed from everyone else’s—but now, with the world still settling after his intervention, he didn’t have it in him to make small talk.
Once dessert was done and the guests had scattered through the house, he let Gracie talk him into returning to the bead box. The simple, repetitive motions helped him focus. The conversation asked nothing of him and didn’t wear on his nerves. And best of all, no one noticed when he kept glancing toward Lila whenever she passed nearby.
He’d been afraid the jealousy would hit him again, that he’d lose control and make a fool of himself. But this time Diego hadn’t even tried to hug her. Something in that erased timeline must have changed his usual attitude. Now, the two either ignored each other or bickered over trivial things, like they always had.
Lila was busy anyway. She darted between the kitchen and the living room with drinks, her voice drifting in and out— calming the twins, fussing over someone’s dress, asking Luther to open a jar.
Meanwhile, Five quietly threaded one bead after another, reminding himself that, in the grand scheme of saving the world, his personal heartbreak was nothing at all.
"That one’s really pretty," Gracie said, admiring the bracelet he’d just finished. "Want me to put it on you?"
"Better give it to someone else," Five smiled.
Gracie turned to Claire.
"Hearts are kind of cheesy," Claire said, making a face.
"Hearts from Five?" Lila arched an eyebrow, suddenly beside them. "That’s a one-of-a-kind. Practically a collector’s item. Lemonade, anyone?"
"Oh! Mom doesn’t have one yet!" Gracie said brightly. "Mom, come here!"
Lila came over and held out her hand. Gracie struggled with the clasp, frowning in concentration.
"It keeps sliding," she said, turning to Five. "You do it."
Five felt a sudden rush of heat. He hadn’t thought his little ally could set him up like that. Lila was standing right next to him, watching with a mischievous smile, and he forced a grin in return.
Technically, there was nothing between them. There couldn’t be. Everything they’d been through together now belonged to the realm of fantasy. They had never huddled for warmth under a torn blanket on a frozen platform, never covered each other during dangerous raids, never kissed in a strawberry greenhouse. None of it had happened. Just an illusion. A trick of memory.
He drew a sharp breath, bit his lip, and reached for the bracelet. His fingers were shaking, his pulse thudding in his ears, but he got it done. The clasp clicked into place, eventually.
Gracie clapped in delight.
“Now you’re pretty too, Mommy!” she exclaimed.
Lila just shook her head, eyeing him with amusement.
“When did you even have time to get wasted?” she sighed.
She’d misread his flustered state, and that was a relief. He didn’t even want to imagine how he’d try to explain himself if Lila ever noticed what her voice, her nearness, her casual touch did to him.
“He’s just had a rough day,” Klaus offered, not looking up from his pastry. “Jennifer can vouch for that,” he added under his breath, tipping his head toward an empty corner.
Thankfully, the kids didn’t seem to catch it. The TV had just started a segment on the most ridiculous holiday decorations.
Five glanced at the clock. Everything was calm. No breaking news, no emergencies.
It was stupid not to have warned Klaus ahead of time to keep quiet. Then again, what difference did it make, whether he had to explain things to one person or two.
“Any coffee in the kitchen?” he asked, as Lila narrowed her eyes and turned toward the same spot, where, presumably, a girl no one else could see was quietly present, a neat little bullet hole between her eyes.
***
Confessing to murder wasn’t all that hard when your audience consisted of a former Commission agent and an immortal medium. No one gasped, no one freaked out, no one threatened to call the cops. Explaining his motives was even easier, given that everyone in the room had firsthand experience with time travel and apocalypses.
Five briefly outlined what the “happy couple” had become and the danger they posed. He kept the details vague as he explained his decision to rewind time and prevent catastrophe. Then he wrapped up with a quick account of his trip to the farm — the one with the alpacas and conspiracy theories, and how he’d finally put his revolver to good use.
He didn’t mention the subway. There was no need.
"Nicely done," Lila said approvingly.
She put a mug down and sat beside him, just like she used to back in the vanished timeline. Only this time, it wasn’t herbal tea. It was coffee: black, strong, and bitter.
Once again, Five found himself wondering why he hadn’t gone back to their strawberry haven to rewind time there. Why he hadn’t made sure Lila never saw that cursed notebook. Why he was now stuck pretending they were practically strangers, knowing that by the end of the night, he’d be heading back to an empty apartment all on his own.
What had held him back? Pride? Duty? He told himself it wasn’t his place to make choices for her, to take her away from the people she loved. But that wasn’t it. Not really. If he was being honest, it was fear, fear that something would go wrong. He’d only ever rewound seconds before, never something on this scale. He didn’t know what might happen.
So, foolishly, maybe even superstitiously, he’d decided to sacrifice something personal — as if it might appease the higher forces, the unseen rules of the universe that wove the threads of time. But what was done was done. Wondering how things might’ve turned out differently was like picking at an old wound — painful and pointless.
“If there were awards for saving our asses,” Klaus said, clapping Five on the shoulder and snapping him out of his thoughts, “you, mi hermano, would be a proud recipient of the Order of the Golden Ass.”
“Glad to hear my efforts are finally getting the recognition they deserve,” Five snorted. “Since you’re in the loop, I have one request: keep an eye out for anything unusual. So far, everything’s holding steady, but I’ve never rewound time this far before.”
There was a flicker in Klaus’s eyes — the look of a man connecting dots. He opened his mouth, ready to share the revelation, but at that moment, a shrieking whirlwind burst into the kitchen, with Diego hot on its heels, towel in hand.
Five barely managed to yank his foot out of the way before the little tornado dove under the table. Seconds later, a grinning face smeared with chocolate cream peeked out from beneath the tablecloth — Stanley, looking utterly pleased with himself.
The chase ended there: the troublemaker was caught, wiped clean, and sent back into the living room.
“What are you whispering about?” Diego said, giving them all a narrow-eyed look.
“Just topping up our caffeine levels,” Lila said with a shrug.
“And Five gave your missus a bracelet as a token of eternal love,” Klaus chimed in brightly.
Five went cold. The last thing he wanted right now was a confrontation with Diego. He’d clearly underestimated how tightly timelines were stitched together, or how annoyingly perceptive Klaus could be.
And naturally, the clock read exactly the same as it had when Diego spotted the bracelet the first time around.
Five clenched his jaw and braced for the worst. But the storm never came. Lila just rolled her eyes, and Diego brushed Klaus off like an annoying fly.
“You’ve got something on Jennifer,” he said, staring at Five with barely concealed envy. “Bet you anything the CIA’s got her location pinned.”
Five let out a quiet breath and met his gaze.
“The CIA has its hands full,” he said tightly.
“Right. Of course they do,” Diego muttered. And just like that, the subject was dropped.
The rest of the evening passed without incident.
The nine o’clock news didn’t report anything of note—just a brief mention of a minor fire at an abandoned mall.
When Lila went to put the kids to bed, Five got ready to leave.
Someone handed him a container with a slice of cake, wished him “Merry Christmas,” and a moment later he was back on the freezing street, alone again.