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Chapter Text

1

Klaus was coming home.

Finally, finally, after all the begging and threatening on both ends, after the tears and shouting and storming off to brood over the whole thing, it was over. Klaus Hargreeves, the troubled Number Four of the former Umbrella Academy, was sober. It had been… God, he actually wasn’t sure how long it had been since he was really sober. No one was. When you asked, you got a variety of answers ranging from him starting as early as thirteen, but never later than seventeen. That was one thing all his siblings could agree on- it had all been downhill once he turned eighteen.

You were in the back of a sleek black car, the windows tinted to keep you invisible to any prying eyes- paparazzi, rivals, friends, and colleagues. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of him, far from it, actually. You were intensely proud, and you hadn’t stopped telling everyone within earshot. “Klaus is coming home this week!” It had been endearing the first five times, but after the tenth and twelfth, everyone was getting a little sick of it.

“We get it, Klaus is finally under control,” Allison had complained to Luther one evening after a family dinner (something you’d put into place at first as a way to monitor everyone and get updates on various projects, but had enjoyed so immensely that you’d insisted they continued, even when business was slow). “I just… I’m worried they’re a little too excited.”

Luther’s brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle that out. “Why? Isn’t him being sober a good thing?”

“It won’t last,” Ben added from across the table, shuffling his food absently with his fork. “He’ll be back on it all in a month.”

“That seems pessimistic,” Viktor countered. “This is the first time he’s stayed through a whole session without us having to wrangle him. I don’t think he tried escaping even once.”

“That’s because it isn’t real,” Allison replied. “Clinics like the one [y/n] paid for him to get into are basically glorified day spas. I hate to say it, but Ben’s right.”

At that moment, the conversation halted briefly as Five appeared, uncharacteristically disheveled and uncoordinated, practically falling to his knees before he caught himself, forcing himself to stand still while he caught his breath. His siblings stared, disturbed, maybe a little curious, as he straightened himself out, smoothed his hair out of his face, and wiped as some blood on his jacket. Once he was satisfied he looked presentable, he sat, giving his siblings a nod.

“…sorry I’m late.”

As if you knew, you were suddenly in the doorway, fixing him with an intense stare before you smiled, moving back to your seat at the head of the table. “I’m glad you could join us. I want us all on the same page for when Klaus is-“

“Right, when he’s home, you want us all here to celebrate. I know.” It came out more tensely than he’d anticipated and, anticipating a reaction from you, the rest of the table glanced your way. You were still smiling, but they could see that intense scrutiny radiating from your eyes had only grown.

“Then you’ll be here next week?”

“Yes.”

“On time?”

Five finally looked at you, returning your gaze with his own stubborn energy. “As on time as my work will allow,” he replied tersely.

Thankfully, Grace came in to serve Five his plate, breaking the tension in the room momentarily. You thanked her, which she, as usual, disregarded, only assuring you she’d be back with dessert in fifteen minutes. Once she was back out the door, you again fixed your sights on Five. You had opened your mouth to give some kind of ultimatum, but stopped as something caught your eye.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

“What?” Five’s hand flew to his face, and he pushed himself back from the table. “Ah, shit.” He stood, making a beeline for the kitchen, and you followed him closely, stopping only to give the rest of your guests a smile.

“Eat, enjoy, I’ll be right back,” you assured them sweetly as you slid into the kitchen, closing the door behind you. He was at the sink, and you marched up to him, equal parts concerned and angry, with the anger only increasing when you realized what he was doing. “You-! Those are the good linen napkins! Jesus Christ, here-“ You ran to a cabinet, rummaging around until you produced some paper towels, which you shoved a handful of into his face, snatching your now bloodstained cloth napkin out of his hands. “You are such a…” You closed your eyes and took a breath. Getting angry was just going to make him defensive.

Five, grateful that tilting his head forward meant he didn’t have to look at you, pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at the floor. “Diego’s not even here,” he muttered. “I still showed up.”

“Diego was working,” you countered, making him stand up, full of indignant fury.

“I was working,” he hissed, glaring at you fiercely, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I work just like everyone else, but I’m the only one who you feel like you have to nag to death about it.”

“Diego has a baby on the way,” you reminded him.

“What, so I need to knock up some girl for you to respect my work schedule?”

“And he’s working within the company!” you shot back, unwilling to even entertain his ridiculous exaggeration. “How many times have I offered you whatever you want if you come work with me? Shit, Five, why are you still doing contract work when I’m giving you anything, everything to walk away?”

Five stared at you a moment, silent. “…contract work?”

You waved your hands emphatically. “Yeah! I… well, I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what you do-“

He seemed to relax slightly when you said that. “Oh, thank god, I-“     

“But I know contract work when I see it!” you continued. “Odd hours, sporadic work all over the place… and I’m assuming you have no health plan to deal with whatever injuries you’re getting on the job?” You reached over, taking a blood soaked paper between your fingertips and replacing it with a clean one. “Jesus, this is a workman’s comp claim if I’ve ever seen one.”

“It’s normal,” he said, brushing you away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Too late,” you snapped back, heading for the door to join the rest of the family at the table. “It’s worried about. I mean it Five, I want you done with this by the end of the month and in the company, where you belong.”

He hadn’t said anything then, and you were mulling it over now in the back of the car, watching the door to the clinic as your mind wandered. You were beginning to think the nature of his work, which was still a mystery to you, had something to do with his unwillingness to leave. You’d asked him, when you first met him, if he’d killed anyone, and he’d readily answered ‘yes’. You’d been referring to his time as an Umbrella Academy member… but was that what he had been thinking of?

Your thoughts were interrupted as the doors opened, and out stepped Klaus. His hair was longer now, down to his shoulders, and he was wearing flashy, designer clothing that you didn’t recognize. Frowning, you rolled down the window and gestured for him to come to you, which he did with a grin, flinging the door open and practically throwing himself inside the vehicle.

You couldn’t even get a proper greeting out before he was squeezing you tightly. “I missed you!” he gushed, finally pulling back and giving you space to breathe again.

“You just saw me last week,” you reminded him, looking him over pensively as the driver pulled away. “Where did you get the clothes?”

His grin widened, a giddy laugh escaping him. “From my pen pal.”

That was concerning. “Pen pal? Since when?”

“Yeah, the clinic connected us with people from all over the world, if we wanted, and mine is some guy in… Italy, I think?” The way he was talking, it was almost like he was gushing over a new boyfriend. “His name is Alphonso.”

“And he… sent you clothes?”

“For my first day out, yeah!” Klaus replied enthusiastically, posing to give you time to admire his new attire. “He said I should look my best.”

“Okay…” you didn’t want to rain on his parade, but you were certainly going to have a stern call with the center director when you got home. “Well that’s… that’s great. You look great.” You forced yourself to smile, pushing through your paranoia. Klaus didn’t need a lecture right now. He needed stability, and a watchful eye on him. “Are you hungry? We can stop somewhere.”

“Actually…” Klaus said slowly, pulling out his phone from his pocket. “Yeah… yeah, you know, I’m really craving a doughnut right now.”

Now you fixed him with an incredulous look. “A doughnut?”

Immediately defensive, Klaus balked at your response, holding his phone closely to his chest. “Yes! All they’d give us is fruit and yogurt and… and granola and shit for breakfast. Excuse me for wanting something deep-fried and smothered in icing.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, leaning forward to roll down the divider and give the driver their new instructions. You now wished you’d taken someone with you, maybe Allison or Diego, someone who could be stern with him, knock the sense back into him. But that just wasn’t you. You wanted to trust him, you wanted him to feel like he could be trusted to make his own decisions.

Little did you know how badly that would turn out for everyone.

Almost as soon as the two of you were seated, Klaus excused himself to the bathroom. An obvious lie, but again, you didn’t want to start anything, so you simply nodded, letting him sneak off toward the back of the restaurant. Your fingers tapping the tabletop nervously, you glanced at his phone, left face-down on the table. Surely it wouldn’t hurt him too badly if you took a peek, just a quick look to make sure what he was saying was true, that he was making good choices.

There was, indeed, someone named Alphonso that he’d been exchanging texts with (so much for being a “pen” pal, you thought), for some time even before the rehab started. You grimaced, that was lie number two. You scrolled up, and then back down to see the most recent text.

meet me in back. we’ll get you whatever you want bby

‘Whatever you want’, in any other circumstances with any other person, could’ve been anything, but when it came to Klaus, you knew exactly what that meant.

“Shit…” you hissed, hauling yourself out of the booth and hurrying toward the front doors, breaking into a sprint as you rounded the building, only to see a moped pulling away, Klaus’ hair trailing behind them in the wind. “Shit!” Frustrated, you kicked the closest dumpster, and immediately regretted it as pain shot up your leg. With a groan, you pulled out your phone, quickly dialing the one sibling you knew could track him down anywhere, and do it discreetly for now.

**

Five’s phone rang, and for a moment, he ignored it. He was in the midst of work, removing the silencer from his gun in the darkness of a hotel room, the blinds drawn and the door locked. Blood dripped from the bed next to him on to the floor, and a few feathers drifted around him from the pillow the bullet had gone through. An accident, but it had helped muffle the sound even more, so what was there to complain about?

His project for the day was a man who now stared blankly at the ceiling, his head at a strange angle from the way he’d fallen back against the headboard. An easy mark, a gambler who owed far too much money to some people he shouldn’t have. A pretty typical case, all things considered.

As he was about to tug one glove off his hand, he realized there was another ringing. A phone on the nightstand, presumably belonging to the man with the bullet hole in the middle of his head lying on the bed, rang out a cheery, electronic version of some popular song he didn’t recognize. Curious, Five glanced at the lock screen.

What he saw made his heart leap into his throat.

PATRICK- the screen read, but he didn’t need to see the last name, as the display photo was instantly recognizable. It was Allison’s ex-husband, calling the man he’d been hired to kill just that morning. His breathing becoming erratic, he tugged the glove back on and started to rummage through the drawers, successfully finding the man’s wallet. Sure enough, one of the many cards inside was for a popular law firm, specializing in divorce and custody.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hissed, stuffing the wallet back where it was, stopping, thinking better of it, and taking the cash and cards out. Better to make it look like a robbery gone wrong at this point. His phone rang again, startling him. “Fuck!”

Hurrying out the door, sure that no one was there to see him, he finally yanked both gloves off and answered. “What?”

“I need your help,” you said on the other end.

“I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

“It’s Klaus. He’s-“

“Already off the wagon?” Five finished, pocketing his gloves and heading out the lobby doors, directly for his car at the back of the lot. “That shouldn’t surprise you.”

“Please, Five, help me get him back here.”

“No.” He sat in the driver’s seat, hesitating to start the car as his ears were roaring, his heart still pounding. He fucked up. He fucked up so, so badly. What could he do, though?

“…you’re working right now, aren’t you?” you said, sounding disappointed, which irked him enough to snap out of his stupor.

“Of course I am,” he replied, running a hand over his face with a sigh. “I just finished a job… where are you right now?”

Your tone shifted as you replied, “Griddy’s. He left out the back with some Italian.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in ten, but listen,” he started the car, glancing back as he pulled out and started toward the street. “If I help you with this, that means you have to help me.”

“With what?”

He sighed again, knowing you would get some smug satisfaction out of this. But, frankly, he wasn’t sure anyone but you could help him at this point. Truly, he wasn’t sure you could help him at all, but it was better than nothing.

“I’m quitting my job, starting now.”

He hung up before he could hear your response. He just wasn’t in the mood for an ‘I-told-you-so”, not today.

Chapter Text

2

Klaus, on the back of a light blue motorized scooter with a white bakery box in his hands, quickly hopped off as soon as they sputtered to a halt at the back of Griddy’s. “They’re gonna love it,” he said, turning and fixing his companion with a grin. “Thanks for helping me. I’m uh… not allowed to drive still.”

“No license?” the man with him asked, taking off his helmet and revealing coiffed, chestnut curls, flowing in the early afternoon breeze as he put the kickstand down. “Or because of the drugs?”

“Both,” Klaus admitted. “And thanks for the shirt, by the way.”

“It looks good on you,” he said, brushing Klaus’ hair back from his neck and giving him a once-over. “And you are sure you do not want anything else? Ketamine, cocaine-“

“No, no, I’m good,” Klaus replied flippantly, heading for the door, which jingled merrily as he pushed it open. His face fell as he scanned the diner and realized you weren’t there. He was about to go bursting into the bathrooms when he caught sight of a waitress cleaning up the table the two of you had been at. There was his phone, face-up and unlocked. “Oh, shit.” He snatched it up, realizing it was open to his texts with his companion. “Shit, shit.”

“Problems?” Alphonso asked, glancing over his shoulder and then back at the door. “Where is your friend?”

“I think I’m in big trouble, babe,” Klaus answered, shoving his phone into his pocket and heading for the door again. “Come on, we’ve gotta go explain-“

“Ah, remember, I have meeting today,” Alphonso reminded him as they headed for the moped parked haphazardly on the street. “Big boss, and he will not be pleased if I am late.”

“Right, yeah, I’m sure it’s super important, but this is family,” he said, patting the moped which, with a sigh, Alphonso mounted again and revved to life. “I can’t have them mad at me already when I just got out.”

Alphonso glanced back at him once more. “And you are sure you don’t-“

“No ketamine, man. Just drive.”

**

“Fuck… he could be anywhere,” you griped, your head out the window as Five drove, your eyes carefully scanning the sidewalks and alleyways as you slowly drove by.

“That’s what I keep telling you,” Five reminded you tersely. “But you insisted we drive around anyway.”

You turned to him now, curious about what he’d said earlier. “Are you really quitting your job?”

“Yes,” he said quickly.

“And… what can I do to help with that, exactly?”

Five grimaced, irritated that you were even asking. But… he supposed he could water it down just enough to make it palatable. “I… well, obviously I’ll need a new job-“

“Done. What else?”

“And… I- I need to know you have my back-“

“Of course I do-“      

“Let me finish,” he fixed you with a glare before continuing. “My line of work is… delicate. There could be some nasty fallout, and I’ll need you behind me if things get bad.”

“… like, you’ll be blacklisted?”

“Something like that.”

You looked out the window, contemplating that for a second. “Five, what exactly do you-“ but just as you were about to ask the question he’d been dreading, you noticed the time on the dashboard clock. “Shit, that late already? Hang on…” You leaned forward, looking at the street signs, and then glancing at the clock again. “Turn right here. I have a meeting nearby.”

“What about Klaus?”

“He’ll have to stay alive until I’m done,” you replied, leaning back with a sigh. “I can’t miss this. Some old business partner of your dad’s wants to see me.” A few more turns, and the two of you were parked in front of a large brick building. “I won’t be long. Can you just wait here?”

“I-“ he started to protest, but you were already gone, hurrying toward the doors. Exasperated, he sat back, his hand on the wheel as if he were contemplating driving off and just leaving you there. He didn’t want to be chasing Klaus around all day. Hell, any one of them could’ve told you that his sobriety would be fleeting, but he supposed no one had, at the time, had the heart to burst your bubble like that. Or, rather, he had, but had been constantly stopped by Ben and Allison with various glares and kicks under the table. And now here he was, cleaning up the mess he could’ve warned you about. It didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t, truthfully, but it certainly was typical.

The smell of cigarette smoke lulled him out of his brooding, and Five sat up, glancing around the empty lot. There, on the far side, was a woman in a dark blue dress, the cigarette in her hand trailing smoke like a cartoonish line for him to follow. With a groan, he got out of the car and headed toward her. His boss wasn’t normally one for house-calls, so this must’ve been important. And while he couldn’t say he was happy about it, this gave him a chance to deliver the message in person.

“New assignment,” his employer, only known to him as Ms. Handler, said, her eyes hidden behind her cat-eye sunglasses and her lipstick staining the end of her cigarette.

“No. I’m done.”

“Sure, take it tomorrow, just get it done,” she said flippantly, already rummaging through her pockets for a new cigarette.

“You’re not listening to me, I’m done done.”

She paused, her mouth twitching at the corner as she took in what he was saying. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. It’s over. I quit.”

Ms. Handler laughed humorlessly. “This isn’t something you just walk away from, kiddo,” she reminded him. “This client asked for you specifically.”

“Then I guess they’ll be disappointed. That’s business.”

“That’s not how our business works,” she replied, her tone growing sharper by the second. “They want you, and I promised them-“

“That’s your problem,” Five snapped, already turning to move back to the car. “Figure it out. I’m done.”

“Then you can tell the client yourself that you’re refusing the job. He’s right in there.” Five turned to look at her, bewildered, as he realized she was gesturing to the building you’d just disappeared into. He glanced to the front doors, then back to her, and she gave him a smirk he’d grown to loathe over the years. “Go on, tell them.”

With a muttered expletive under his breath, Five disappeared, the only trace of him being his car, still sitting useless on the lot without its owner. Ms. Handler’s smirk disappeared from her face in that same instant, and with a huff, she walked away.

“You’ll be back. You’ve got nowhere else to go.”

**

A man in a black suit, meanwhile, had met you as soon as you entered the building, and then escorted you into a rather lavish room with large windows. You’d paused just outside the door as your phone rang. Klaus was calling. You didn’t want to feel it, your really didn’t, but in that moment, you were beyond irritated with him, so when you picked up, you barely even gave him a moment to speak.

“[y/n]?”

“I’m so disappointed in you right now,” you hissed, glancing at your escort for only a moment before your gaze returned to the floor, practically burning a hole through the polished wood.

“Listen, I-“

“I’m too busy to chew you out right now, so you’d better get your ass to the Academy so I can do it in person.” Without another word, you hung up, using both hands to push the door open as you strode inside.

Seated in the center of the room was a man you could only describe as enormous, probably seven feet tall, if you had to guess, and broad, broader even than Luther. You realized he didn’t look much older than the kids, early to mid-30’s at most, with wavy, sand-colored hair and piercing, hazel eyes set in a surprisingly handsome, almost boyish face.

“Mx. [y/l/n],” he said, looking you over as if you were an interesting antique he’d been tasked with inspecting. “Reggie’s replacement, I hear.”

You chuckled nervously, glancing around the room. He had at least two people that looked like bodyguards, or maybe just hired goons, stationed strategically in the room. It made you hesitate. Were you supposed to bring muscle to something like this?

“Sorry, I don’t think anyone gave me your name,” you said, taking a seat in an adjacent chair, trying your best to seem easygoing. “All I was told is that you were a business associate of Reggie’s from… Italy?”

“That’s correct,” the man replied. “Headquartered there, although I myself am from Greece originally.”

You perked up at that. “Oh? What region?”

“West, near the Ionian. A town called Parga.”

You nodded, starting to feel more at ease. “I had a great uncle who moved to Italy. He always claimed the beaches in Greece were better, said he should’ve moved there.”

Now it was the man’s turn to chuckle. “I would have to agree.” Finally, as if you’d passed some sort of test, he extended his hand, and you stood to shake it, watching carefully as his enormous hand enveloped yours. “I am Don Nico Bernardi.“

Your mouth immediately became a desert, practically choking you. “D-Don? Don Bernardi? The menace of the Mediterranean? That Don Bernardi?”

“The very same.”

“Jesus Christ…” You sat back down. You knew Reggie had some shady dealings, but you couldn’t possibly imagine what sort of deal he’d struck with one of the most notorious crime bosses in Europe. What’s more, this titan of a man had clearly made the trip to the states with the purpose of meeting you in person, and that didn’t bode well for you. You suddenly wished you hadn’t left Five in the car. “I… it’s, uh, nice to meet you, I guess.”

“The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine,” he replied smoothly. “I suppose you are wondering why I have come here.” You nodded. “I promise you it is nothing sinister. I have some business to take care of here, and I thought I would seize the opportunity to finally meet you.”

“Well… we met,” you said, desperate now to get out of the building. “And I do appreciate it, really, but there’s nothing to-“

“I have made you uncomfortable,” he said, sounding like he was genuinely remorseful about it. “I apologize.”

“No, no, I… well, okay, yes. I’m wondering if I’m in trouble now.”

“No trouble,” he assured you, lifting one hand to settle you. “But I do have a request to keep our relations… cordial.” You didn’t like the sound of that, but you let him continue. “One of your sons has a skillset I am hoping to use. Just a one-time job, nothing too difficult.”

Now you were thoroughly confused. “My sons?”

The Don tilted his head quizzically. “Yes…?” He very quickly realized his mistake. “Oh… Reggie’s sons, I suppose. I apologize, I’m still adjusting to the change in management.”

“Whatever it is,” you said slowly, trying to pick your words carefully. “I can’t allow it.” His eyebrow quirked upward, irritated, and you backpedaled. “What I mean is… I can’t make that decision for them. I mean, I don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“It’s not something I can say… I would not want you to become too involved.”

“I’m telling you, they won’t like it.”

“You are the head of your family, are you not?” he asked.

“Uh… yeah, I guess that’s me.”

“So your word is law,” he said, leaning back and looking you over pensively, making you squirm in your seat. “I do not see the problem.”

“The problem,” you countered, feeling yourself rise up indignantly despite your fear. “Is your business is crime. Mine isn’t. The Hargreeves name is turning over a new leaf under my management.” You stood, worried someone might stop you, but no one moved. “I hope you understand.”

The Don made no indication that he did. He simply stared at you. “You are refusing my request?”

You could feel the icy hand of fear gripping your heart, but you held fast. “Correct. The Hargreeves children are not tools for you to rent from me.”

Don Bernardi, to your surprise, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I would like to convince you, but I’m afraid I may be revealing information that is not mine to share if I do.”

You managed a tight smile. “Then I guess my mind it made up.”

“…are you sure this is what you want?”

You were already moving toward the door, still expecting to be shot or tackled. “Positive. I apologize, Don Bernardi, for wasting your time. I hope your stay in the states is enjoyable.” And with that, you were out the door, your heart pounding in your throat and your hands shaking. What the fuck did you just do?

As you turned the corner, you ran into someone, and you stumbled back, your hands up defensively, ready for the worst. “Finally, there you are.” You recognized the voice, but before you could process anything, you were both gone in a flash of blue light, reappearing next to the car faster than you could blink.

Back in the building, Don Bernardi was simmering. He considered himself a gentleman, a man with an honorable code that prohibited him from acting too rashly. However, he was also a man who did not often hear the word ‘no’, and it had irked him greatly that you’d turned down his request. He was contemplating how to move forward when the door opened again, and two men came through, arguing back and forth, but falling silent once they felt the Don’s icy stare on them.

“Alphonso,” he said, his tone measured. “You’re late.”

“I apologize, Don Bernardi,” the man said, ushering the other man in, who looked around, bewildered, a white box clutched tightly in his hands. “My companion had… urgent family matter.”

Klaus smiled, extending his hand nervously. “Hi, Klaus Hargreeves, former drug addict. Alphonso was just telling me-“

"Hargreeves?” The Don interrupted, leaning forward, suddenly interested. He looked him over a moment before motioning for one of his men to come closer, saying something in hushed Italian, which Klaus could barely make out. When they were done he turned back to the middle Hargreeves child, a benevolent smile on his face.

“I think we just found our assassin.”

Chapter Text

3

As you trudged back toward the car, Five found you strangely void of questions, or thanks, which was alarming. He glanced back as he was about to open the door, but you only glared down at your feet, lost in your righteous anger.

“Hey,” he said, getting you to finally give him a glance. “Stay away from this building from now on.”

To his surprise, you rolled your eyes. “Five, I’m not a child. You don’t have to shield me from… ugh, forget it.” With a huff, you sat in the passenger’s seat, slamming the door shut and promptly crossing your arms over your chest.

His concern only increasing, Five climbed in too, quickly starting the car and pulling away. The two of you drove silently for a moment before you spoke again.

“Klaus called.”

“Oh? Where was he?”

“Who cares? He’d better be back at the Academy with a fucking apology. Put him through the rehab… the nicest place I can find, and this is what he does?”

“He’s an addict,” Five reminded you gently. “He’s going to disappoint us a lot before he-“

“And did you know about your dad being in bed with the fucking Italian mob?” you continued, ignoring him completely. “Caught me by surprise, that’s for-fucking-sure.”

“…the mob?”

“Well, a mob, I think. He was Greek, so… I don’t know. All I know is your dad’s stupid decisions are getting pretty fucking old.”

 You could’ve gone on the rest of the ride home, but your phone began to ring. With a groan, you pulled it out of your pocket, expecting it to be Klaus again. It wasn’t, and, your energy shifting considerably, you answered.

“[y/n]?” Allison’s voice was uncharacteristically frantic on the phone just as Five was pulling back up to the Academy, and you put a hand up, asking him to wait a moment. “God, I’m glad you picked up. The police were just here.”

“What? Why?” you said, unable to hide the alarm from your voice.

“Patrick’s lawyer is dead.”

“What?”

“They think I had something to do with it, or you did. They were asking about you, and I, I panicked-“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you turned, leaning out the open window to glance back at the nondescript black car parked behind you. “I’ll talk to them. If they bother you again, call Lila. Don’t talk to them without her there.”

“She’s not a criminal lawyer, is she?”

“Well you’re not a criminal, so I think you’ll be fine,” you replied, your eyes still trained on the car. “I’ll talk to them. Just sit tight, and if they come back, your only word is ‘lawyer’, got it?” The two of you exchanged a few more assurances before you hung up, so caught up in what you’d just heard and seen that you didn’t even notice the nervous way Five was looking at you.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s cops here to talk to me,” you replied, your arm leaning out the window and tapping the side of the car as you thought. “Allison’s ex, Patrick? His lawyer’s dead, I guess.” Not a peep from Five, so you continued. “Come on, let’s not keep them waiting.” Without waiting for any confirmation, you got out of the car and approached the other vehicle, of which two men were exiting in plainclothes. “Hello officers,” you said with a pleasant smile. “How can I help you?”

The two of them exchanged a look before one responded. “Mx. [y/l/n], right? We’d like to ask you some questions about a Mr. Carl Weissner.”

Five froze, but you nodded. “I know of him. Our lawyers correspond with him frequently.”

“About your uh… daughter, Allison Hargreeves, right?”

You felt your brow scrunch up, as, for the second time today, you had to remind everyone you weren’t literally the patriarch of this insane family. “She’s not my daughter, but yes. Mr. Weissner is her ex-husband’s lawyer.”

The officers exchanged another look. “Mx. [y/l/n], Mr. Weissner was found dead earlier today,” the second one finally chimed in.

You feigned surprise. “Really? That’s awful. What happened?”

“Bullet to the head, and we’re considering it a homicide.”

“That’s horrible. I’ll be sure to send some flowers to his office.”

"Mx. [y/l/n]-“

“You can just call me [y/n],” you said, getting increasingly restless at their beating around the bush, but pushing through with a polite smile. “Listen, should I be calling a lawyer? Or are you just asking questions?”

“Depends. We just need to know where you were around 10 am today.”

You answered without hesitation. “Outside the Holistic Medicinal Clinic off Sixth Street. I’m sure their cameras caught my car parked outside.”

One of them nodded. “We’ll check into it. I appreciate you answering our questions. We’ve got a long list of folks to get through. This guy pissed off a lot of people.”

“Just awful…” you repeated, desperate to get them out of your space so you could start making calls. The lawyers needed to know. And you still had to find Klaus. The more you thought about it, the angrier you were getting, and that would read as defensive to these boneheads. “I wish we could be more help, but we don’t know any more about it than what you’ve told us.” You finally glanced to Five. “Right?”

“Yeah…” he answered stiffly. “That’s right.”

Your blood suddenly turned icy, but you kept your cool as you said goodbye to the officers and watched them get back into their car, not moving toward the front door until you saw them pull away. You smelled it. You fucking smelled it. The cold, earthy smell of damp soil, freshly thawed at the first hint of spring. You frowned, and decided to try again. Maybe you were just imagining it.

“Five,” you said, turning to him with your hand on the doorknob, your face deathly serious. “You don’t know anything about this, right?”

“About what?”          

Purposely obtuse. That wasn’t like him.

“Patrick’s lawyer. Tell me you don’t know anything about it.”

He frowned before answering, “Of course I don’t. Why would I? I’ve never even met the guy.”

You nodded slowly, giving him the most sincere smile you could muster before opening the door and slipping inside, closing it gently behind you. Your back pressed to it, you tried to calm your pounding heart, but found yourself fighting against a rising feeling- a sickening combination of fear and anger. You knew it now, the smell had been even stronger the second time, and there was no denying it.

Five was lying to you.

**

Five stood on the front step for a moment, staring at the door until he finally turned back to his car. Something about that last interaction hadn’t felt right, and it had put him on edge. Seeing Ms. Handler leaning against the passenger door, smoking her usual brand of noxious cigarette, only pushed him further to the edge, and he waved her away as if she, herself, might dissipate like the smoke she was emitting if he did.

“Leave. I told you, I’m done.”

She only smiled, a look that he’d come to loathe in their years of working together. Or, rather, his years of servitude to her, though he would never admit that. “So you told the client you’re refusing the job?”

“I… didn’t get around to it.”

She shrugged. “Then it sounds like you’re still gainfully employed.”

Five glared fiercely at his boss, sick of being dismissed as if he were a child throwing a fit. “I quit, Handler. You can’t force me to do anything.”

“Force?” Ms. Handler feigned as if he’d hurt her feelings. “Five, I would never force you to do anything. But…” her eyes flickered behind him, toward the door you’d just disappeared behind, safe inside the Academy. “I can’t promise you everyone around you would be safe if you leave me.”

He turned, looking back to his childhood home before turning back to her. “Now you’re threatening me?”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, blowing a cloud of smoke to one side. “That your little friend might find themselves in a lot of trouble.” Her eyes flickered from him to the street as a car leisurely rolled by before pulling over a ways down the street. Satisfied she could continue uninterrupted, she concluded, “It’s up to you kiddo. You can keep doing what you’re doing, what you’re good at, frankly, with me. Or,” she nodded toward the Academy again. “Take your chances out in the real world. Personally, I don’t think our client will leave things the way they are.”

"You know what? I’m not listening to this bullshit,” Five huffed, pulling the car door open and climbing into the driver’s seat, locking it as soon as he slammed it closed. Ms. Handler tapped on the window, but he ignored her, starting the car and beginning to pull away.

“You can’t run from me, Five!” she called, her anger beginning to seep through her perpetually smug façade. “You think you can just walk away and live a normal life after what you’ve done? This is all you know! This is you!”

His car slowed, the brake lights casting a red glow over her as she crossed her arms, waiting for him to get out and confront her. Instead, the sound of gunshots rang through the neighborhood, ricocheting off concrete and trash cans. Ms. Handler, not unfamiliar with the sensation of being shot at, immediately ducked behind a fence.

After a few more clumsy shots, there was the sound of squealing tires, and as Five’s employer peeked out from behind her shelter, she watched as both Five’s car and the car that had pulled on to the street previously both sped off in opposite directions.

“That… that little shit,” she hissed, trotting out into the street to see which way he’d turned. Her teeth clenched together painfully as she tried to steady herself, but goddammit, she was just so angry at him. The audacity to shoot at her, her, his only lifeline in a world that was ready to toss him aside and mark him as useless, it sent her blood boiling. “You wanna play that game? We can fucking play,” she muttered, moving up the street, her phone already in her hand. He wasn’t going to get away that easily.

**

“I told you, I’m a lousy shot.”

Klaus, in the back of a car nicer than he’d ever seen before, withdrew the gun from the window of the back seat, running his hands through his hair with a sigh.

“It is alright,” Alphonso assured him, glancing out the rear window before turning his attention back to Klaus. “Don Bernardi will understand.”

“What was my brother doing talking to her?”

“I… I do not know,” Alphonso replied carefully, looking equally perplexed.

Klaus frowned. “Hey… listen, can you drop me back off at the Academy? I really need to-“

Alphonso put a hand up as his phone rang, picking up and speaking in hushed Italian for a bit before hanging up again.

“…was that him?” Klaus asked.

Alphonso nodded.

“Was he mad?”

Alphonso nodded again.

“Great… great,” Klaus sat back, closing his eyes. He wanted to call you again, try to explain, but he’d never heard you that angry before. He should’ve known better. What reason did you have to trust he wasn’t getting into trouble? In fact, even without the drugs, he’d managed to find himself smack dab in the middle of a steaming heap of it. Trouble just seemed to find him, stick to him like a musty, animal scent sticks to the roof of your mouth.

“…hey, is that ketamine still on the table?” he asked, only to feel himself deflate as Alphonso shook his head.

“No, no, you must be sober when we explain to Don Bernardi what happened.”

“Right… yeah, definitely wouldn’t want to be fucked up for that, would I?” he said weakly. For a moment he watched the world whizzing by them and silently cursed his sobriety. If he was high right now, maybe a little drunk, he was sure he’d know what to do. In fact, if you hadn’t sent him to that crazy spa for rich deadbeats, none of this would be happening at all. But, try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at you.

It wasn’t your fault he was such a fuckup.

**

Don Bernardi was still in his chair in the center of the room, curtains drawn, his fingers tented in front of him as he stared ahead, deep in thought. You’d said no to him. It wasn’t something he heard very often, and it bothered him deeply. However, he had to admit he respected your gumption, blowing him off so effortlessly. Even Reggie, in the years past, had been slow to ever outright refuse him. He’d never felt it was an act of fear, or even friendship. No, ever since young Nico Bernardi had first met Reginald Hargreeves on a misty, early morning, standing on the dock as the turbulent sea rocked around them, Reggie had kept a curious glint in his eye, one that said this was simply an interesting experiment, a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Friends stayed close, enemies closer, but Don Bernardi had never been sure where he stood with the Hargreeves. He supposed he appreciated the clarity you’d provided on the subject.

Still, a promise was a promise. And if Don Bernardi was one thing, he was a man of his word.

Alphonso hurried into the room dragging a reluctant Klaus behind him. “Don Bernardi, I apologize. My friend has never-“

Don Bernardi simply put up a hand, two rings glinting maliciously on his pointer and middle fingers, silencing Alphonso immediately. “You are not the son who kills, are you?”

Klaus stared at him blankly a moment before responding. “I’m… sorry?”

The Don sighed. “Why did you not tell me that you are not an assassin?”

“Well, I wanted to but…” he paused, looking Don Bernardi up and down. “Has anyone told you you’re kind of intimidating?”

“…yes.”

“Right, so you can see why I was a little… hesitant to say anything.”

Don Bernardi ran a hand through his thick, sandy hair, taking a moment to glance out the window before asking, “And you do not kill?”

It took Klaus a moment to realize he was being addressed, and he shook his head fervently. “People? Oh yeah, no, I don’t do that. Now, if you wanna talk to dead people, we could maybe work something out.”

“Perhaps another time,” Don Bernardi leaned forward, and despite himself, Klaus resisted the urge to take a step back. Even sitting, it was clear the man was enormous, and he couldn’t help but notice that the man in front of him might be able to envelope Klaus’ entire head in one of his hands. The thought wasn’t entirely… unpleasant, if he was being honest, but it was definitely unsettling.

“…do any of your brothers kill?” he finally asked, and Klaus could see the man’s irritation growing as he hesitated.

“Uh… well, yeah, I feel like we all have done that before but…”

“Let me see your phone,” the Don said suddenly, extending one hand, and without much thought, Klaus complied. The Don scrolled for a moment before finding what he was looking for. “This is the head of your family, yes?” he asked, turning the screen toward Klaus. Your contact was open, a particularly unflattering photo of you attached, much to your dismay any time you saw it.

“Yep, good old [y/n],” Klaus replied with a nervous chuckle as he reached to retrieve his phone, only to find it gone again as the Don wrote calmly on some loose papers on his desk, glancing from the screen to his handwriting and back before finally handing it back. “You know, now that you mention it, they’re probably really worried about me. I should get back and explain that this whole thing was a big misunderstanding.”

The Don smiled in a way that made Klaus more nervous than he’d been with the gun in his hand not too long ago. “No need,” he said. “I will make sure they know you’re here, and I’m sure they’ll come to fetch you.”

Klaus couldn’t argue with that. Once you found out where he was, you were sure to come running. He just hoped you knew what you were getting into by doing so. Although, if anyone were to ask him, he didn’t feel particularly threatened by the giant man sitting at the desk in front of him, carefully dialing on his own cellphone (an old flip phone, he noted, amused). Sure, he’d initially blindly obeyed, but that was before he’d really talked to the guy, or even gotten a good look at him…

“Don’t,” Alphonso, who’d been deathly silent behind him, now hissed in his ear. “Do not even think about it. Don Bernardi does not like drug addicts.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Everyone says that until they realize how charming and adorable I am.” He turned back to his penpal, who was unusually morose. “Lighten up, there’s no reason to be jealous.”

“I am… I am worried,” Alphonso whispered, his eyes flickering over Klaus’ shoulder to the Don and then back to Klaus. “I should not have brought you here.”

“It’s fine, man, really.”

“I have bad feeling.”

“It’s fine. I’ll behave.”

But no one in that room or otherwise believed that for a second.

Chapter Text

4

Klaus was nowhere to be found when you entered the Academy. Part of you was angry, sure, but more than that, you were starting to get increasingly worried. You were about to call him again, apologize, perhaps, for not hearing him out earlier, when your thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of gunshots. For this neighborhood, that was unusual, and you moved to the window, carefully peeking through the gaps in the curtains.

You finally poked your head out the front door to see if anything had been damaged when your phone began to buzz in your pocket. You listened as the sound of squealing tires receded before you fished it out. An unknown number. Weird, but you answered, waiting silently.

“… Mx. [y/l/n]?”

You instantly recognized Don Bernardi’s dulcet baritone, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“How did you get this number?” you hissed, slamming the door shut as you retreated back into the Academy.

“I have one of your… Klaus is here with me.”

“Klaus?” you straightened up, the fear in the back of your throat morphing painfully back into anger. “Why? Where was he? What did you do to him?” You waited half a second before you added, “Was he buying drugs from you? Is that what this is, a deal gone wrong?”

“No, no drugs,” Don Bernardi assured you. “He is fine, although he is not, as it turns out, the Hargreeves I need.”

That only increased your anger tenfold. “You don’t even know which one you’re supposed to be using? What is wrong with you?”

“I was only told it was a son, and that you would know,” he replied coolly. “I cannot help it Reginald thought it wise to have so many sons to choose from. And you were not exactly helpful.”

“So, what? I come give up who you’re looking for or you kill Klaus?”

“I would not like it to come to that, no.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “If I find out you hurt him… or gave him drugs! Oh my god, if you gave him drugs I…” You stopped, taking a breath. It was no good threatening him over the phone. “I… I’ll be right there.” Without another word, you hung up. Your mind was racing a mile a minute, so much so that you nearly knocked Ben over as he was coming through the gate.

"Whoa, slow down, what’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sensing all was not right.

“Klaus is in trouble.”

Ben had to hold back an eye roll. It would only upset you to hear that everyone but you had seen this coming. “Drugs?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I have to go get him.”

Ben could see it on your face that it wasn’t just Klaus’ perceived betrayal that had you bothered. But just as he opened his mouth to ask you about it, you cut him off with an unexpected question.

“Ben, have any of you been killing people?”

“…what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Have any of you, the Hargreeves children, been killing people and I don’t know about it?”

Ben was oddly evasive. “I mean… who knows what Diego was up to during his vigilante days.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you-“ you stopped, realizing you were taking out your frustration on him. Taking a breath, you put a hand up as an apologetic gesture. “Forget it. I don’t have time for this right now. He can’t have any of you anyway.”

As you started to walk toward the street, fishing your keys out of your pocket, Ben called, “What about the party?”

Shit. You’d been so absorbed in everything happening today you’d completely forgotten about Klaus’ welcome home party. Gritting your teeth, you waved at him over your shoulder. “We’ll be back by 7, make sure everything’s ready by then!” you called before you got behind the wheel of your car and drove away, retracing your steps back to Don Bernardi’s waiting arms.

**

Just as you were running into Ben, Five was pulling up to that same building. Ms. Handler had insisted his current job assignment was waiting inside, and he figured it was time for him to take things back into his own hands. He’d been distracted by the idea of you being in the crossfire last time, but nothing would stop him this time from formally severing his ties.

As he blinked inside the building, past the guards and directly to the door you’d entered just earlier that day, he didn’t bother knocking before entering. Don Bernardi, up and at the window, glanced over his shoulder, curious to see who had entered his domain so confidently.

“Can I help you?”     

“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping you,” Five replied, striding up to the chair in front of where the Don had previously sitting, as if he were intending to sit, but instead stood behind it, one hand on the back. It was good to keep a physical barrier between him and an unpredictable client, he’d learned in years past. “You asked for an assassin?”      

“Ah,” the Don nodded, moving back to his chair, and hesitating to give Five a look up and down before he finally sat back down. “Yes, I’ve heard you are the best money can buy.”

Five grimaced internally at that unflattering characterization, although he couldn’t deny it. “Yep, that’s me.”

“There is a chance I will not need you,” Don Bernardi confessed, intriguing Five despite his better judgment. “You are… a backup plan, if I have the term correct.”

“That sounds about right,” Five said, watching the Don with a cautious curiosity. “What’s the job?”

“I cannot go into specifics at the moment,” the Don waved the questions away. “If I need you, I will call for you. All you need to do now is go downstairs and wait for the next…” Don Bernardi glanced at a clock on the wall a moment before concluding, “Half an hour. If I do not call for you, you are free to go, and will be paid accordingly.”

It sounded too good to be true, and it showed on Five’s face. “…and if you do call for me? What then?” he asked.

“Then you kill your employer.”

Five should have balked, maybe even been offended, but he only tilted his head quizzically. “…Ms. Handler? She’s the target.”

"Correct.”

“Does she know this?”

“If she did,” the Don replied, smiling darkly. “Do you think she would have handed you over to me?”

A thought occurred to Five. “Who’s supposed to kill her then? Who am I playing backup for?”

But the Don raised a hand dismissively. “That is a private matter. Please, wait downstairs. I am expecting a very important guest.” He gestured toward a door on the other side of the room, which one of his men opened politely, and Five stepped through, finding himself in a stairwell at the back of the building.

Just before the door closed, Don Bernardi called out, “You did not give me your name.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Five called back, letting the door close behind him as he began to make his way back downstairs.

As Five was descending the first flight of steps, you burst in the way he had entered, glaring at Don Bernardi as you strode up to him. “Where is he?” you demanded, forcing yourself to ignore how his men tensed up at your abrupt arrival. Don Bernardi, however, seemed pleased to see you.

"Of course, one moment.” He turned, calling, “Alphonso!” And sure enough, through a third door to your right came Klaus, followed by a good looking young man with chestnut curls.

Klaus looked nervous to see you, and he waved tentatively. “Heeey…” he said, giving you an awkward, lopsided smile.

You didn’t return it. Part of you had thought the Don had been bluffing, that he’d somehow gotten wind of your wayward child (for lack of a better term) and was using it against you. But no, there he was, still sober, judging by how uncomfortable he seemed standing there, looking back at you like he was waiting to be scolded.

Instead, you turned back to Don Bernardi, keeping your face neutral, unmovable stone. “Great, you found him for me. Let me send him home now.”

“Not until I have the Hargreeves I need.”

Anger flared at the back of your throat like a newly sparked flame, but you kept your composure. “They’re not trading cards, Don Bernardi. Let him go home.”

“I need an assassin-“

“Then hire one!” You couldn’t help it, you finally snapped, and you could see it took Don Bernardi by surprise. “None of the Hargreeves do that kind of thing, ever, so drop it.”

The Don’s face morphed from surprise to amusement, as if he was in on some delicious secret, and it only fueled your anger more. “There is much you don’t know, mikrós nonós,” he replied with a grin.

You didn’t know enough Greek to translate, but it sounded like he was taunting you. “What if I just refuse, huh? What, will we just sit here until whoever you want gone drops dead of old age?”

“Then I would be forced to take some drastic measures,” he gestured over to Klaus as he said it, and it was like a chill fell over the entire room.

Despite your heart being in your throat, you continued, “What, you’ll kill him?”

“No, nothing like that,” Don Bernardi replied, and, as if to prove his point, he opened his jacket and took out the gun holstered inside, placing it on the desk. “I do not like to take lives needlessly. But…” he seemed to be mulling it over, glancing between the two of you, his unwilling captives, before he concluded, “I suppose he could lose a few fingernails, an eye perhaps.”

Your stomach turned over at the thought of it, and your mind kicked into high gear. Klaus was only staring back at you, wide-eyed and speechless. You couldn’t let this happen. If he spilled even a drop of Klaus’ blood, you’d have to kill him, you’d need to, because then what would stop him from going after the rest of them? After Lila and the baby? Your fists clenched so hard you could’ve drawn blood from your palms, you swallowed, trying to keep your composure.

“So… just so we’re clear,” you said carefully, your eyes never leaving Klaus. “You’re saying you’ll torture him until I give you whichever Hargreeves you think you’re supposed to have?”

Don Bernardi nodded, and you nodded back, as if the two of you had come to an understanding. Without another word, you reached over, taking the gun from the desk, pointing it, and firing. The entire room flinched, with two of the men in the corners of the room rushing at you, wrenching the gun from your hands until it clattered to the floor. Don Bernardi, shocked, looked at where the bullet had gone, directly through Klaus’ head and embedded in the wall. Alphonso, realizing what had happened, began to wail, kneeling next to Klaus, who was staining the floor beneath him with a brilliant blooming of blood until his breathing slowed to nothing.

“You can’t blackmail me with these kids,” you said, turning back to the Don triumphantly, fighting through the ringing in your ears and biting back the instinct to run to Klaus’ fallen form with all your might. “Because I don’t give a shit about them.”

Don Bernardi said nothing for a moment, merely glancing down. “Yet your hands tremble.” Defiant, you clasped them together in front of you, as if that might hide it, but it was too late. He knew. The Don reached over and took one of your hands in his, surprising you with how warm they were. He leaned forward to look into your eyes, and you met his gaze fiercely, unwavering. “Tell me again that you do not care for your family,” he said softly.

“I don’t,” you insisted, and he smiled.

“You are lying.”

You squeezed his hand just as he started to pull away. “Promise me,” you said, your voice just as soft, but your gaze and your grip on his hand still hard and cold, “-that they won’t get hurt if I give you what you want.”

“I promise,” he replied, and with your face screwed up in disgust, you finally yanked your hand away from him.

“Now you’re the one that’s lying.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment before the Don finally sighed. “You are a very difficult person, Mx. [y/l/n].”

“Just [y/n],” you reminded him, your voice barely a whisper now.

“Alphonso,” Don Bernardi called, startling both of you. “Take care of this,” he gestured toward Klaus’ lifeless body, eliciting another choked sob from the traumatized underling before he complied.

You stood, numb in that moment, staring ahead of you as, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Alphonso dragging Klaus out the door, his own sniffling growing quieter as he departed. After a long silence, you turned back to Don Bernardi, oddly composed.

“Could I use your bathroom?”

The Don nodded, and one of the men, probably the man who’d first let you into the building that morning, led you into the hallway and to a heavy wooden door, which you shut firmly behind you. You’d thought about finding an escape route, squeezing through a window or fashioning a weapon out of something inside. But the moment the door clicked shut, and it was just you and your thoughts, you felt yourself begin to crumble, your back sliding down the door as you sank to the ground.

You killed him. You killed Klaus. It happened so fast, like you blinked and you’d suddenly done the unthinkable. It wasn’t real… you knew that, you knew he’d be up and running back to help you in no time, idiot that he was. But it still felt real, like some piece of you had suddenly been ripped away from you and replaced with an ugliness you’d never dreamed you’d be capable of.

A choked sob escaped you, and you had to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle yourself. You couldn’t let them see you crack. They couldn’t know that in killing him, you were killing yourself, killing your humanity. You had to get them out, away from that man, from their father’s past mistakes, constantly at your heels no matter what you did or where you went, as it turned out. Closing your eyes, letting hot tears streak down your face, you finally let yourself fall apart.

After all, you could put yourself back together in time to face your fate.

As if the Gods were choosing to mock you in that moment, your phone buzzed. Wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand, you answered hoarsely, “Hello?”

“Mx. [y/l/n]? This is Detective Baldwin. We spoke earlier today.”

“Oh…” you sat up, your guard raised as you realized the implication of what he was saying. “Yes… hello detective. What can I do for you?”

“I’m hoping you can answer a quick question for me. We were able to verify alibies for everyone in your family-“

“Oh, that’s good.”

“All but one.”

Your heart sank into your stomach as the detective continued, “Your s- uh, Five Hargreeves, we weren’t able to verify his whereabouts at the time of the murder.”

You were silent, your heart and your mind both racing as you tried to slow your breathing. No… no, that couldn’t be right. You desperately didn’t want that to be right. But you couldn’t get that smell out of your mind, the smell of his lie when you’d asked him, point blank, if he knew anything about Patrick’s lawyer’s untimely death. You actually had to bite back a hysterical laugh, stop yourself from shouting into the phone, I don't care! I killed one of my favorite people so some psycho mob boss wouldn't ruin his life! And the worst part was, it was all so comically absurd you knew he wouldn't believe you even if you did just that.

“…Mx. [y/l/n]?”

“He was with me,” you replied, suddenly finding your voice again. “In the car. He came with me to pick up Klaus that morning at the clinic.”

The detective sounded skeptical. “You didn’t mention that this morning.”

“You didn’t ask,” you replied, finally standing up from the floor of the bathroom and brushing yourself off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important meeting, and I really need to get going.”

“Of course. Thank you for your cooperation on this-“

You hung up. You didn’t need to hear the rest of whatever bullshit the police department was feeding you. You were feeling a lot of things in that moment, standing in an unfamiliar bathroom with a bloodthirsty mafia boss from overseas in the other room, awaiting your return, surely about to do who knows what with you. You thought about Klaus, how still he’d been, how quickly his body had fallen to the ground, like the act of his life was simply a comical act of physical clownery- like it meant nothing.

It reminded you of the way Five’s lie had smelled. How many others had he fed you, small enough that they went undetected, now piled up so greatly that they could no longer be ignored?

And then you finally left the bathroom, heading back into the room where your fate would be sealed.

Chapter Text

5

The sound of Klaus’ weight dragging across the floor was driving Alphonso mad, his face still wet with tears as he gritted his teeth, straining to get Klaus to the back of the building where the freight elevator was. Buttons pressed, more dragging as heavy metal doors rattled open, and Alphonso uttered a final, guttural cry as Klaus’ shoes finished their trek across the door frame and the doors closed slowly, quietly behind them. The poor man staggered to his knees, heaved, but nothing happened. He only cried, uttering soft, desperate prayers in Italian under his breath.

The Don had always warned him about romantic entanglements in his line of work, and now he knew why.

The time for grieving quickly gave away under his feet as a flash of blue light all but blinded him, causing the elevator to shudder to a halt, the lights flickering off, on, then dimming until they were almost useless.

“Dammit,” Five muttered, looking around at where he’d just trapped himself. “Overshot it. I knew I should’ve carried the two.”

“Who-! What-!” Alphonso was choking on his words, trying his best to work past his shock to form a coherent sentence. He didn’t get a chance to, however, as Klaus suddenly sat up, sending Alphonso into another fit of screaming.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Klaus stood, wobbling just a bit and steadying himself with his hand on the wall. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Five answered, giving the elevator doors a tap. “I heard…” he glanced to the bullet hole still in the process of closing itself squarely in the center of his brother’s skull. “Huh, that must’ve been what I heard. Who shot you?”

Klaus’ face fell as the memory rushed back to him. “Oh… [y/n] was in there, weren’t they?”

Five looked between the two of them, suddenly bristling with animosity. “…what? In where?”

“Five,” Klaus grabbed the front of his brother’s jacket, his face uncharacteristically serious and his gaze intense. “You gotta get up there man, I think they’re in a lot of trouble.” Klaus looked down, remembering more. “I… I think I got them in a lot of trouble.”

“Where?” Five asked again, quickly losing what little patience he had for his brother’s rambling.

“Oh! Uh, the… it’s a big room, up a bunch of stairs… shit,” he turned to Alphonso, who only stared back at him in horror. “Help me out here bud.”

“Forget it, I think I know what you’re talking about,” Five replied, glancing at the floors listed as little dimly lit buttons on the elevator wall. “Find my car and get it ready to go, quickly.” And with another blue flash, he was gone. The elevator seemed to rumble back to life, shuddering beneath them as the lights flickered back on slowly. Klaus looked down at Alphonso, who was huddled on the floor, staring back at him. Klaus grinned, giving him a little wave, and Alphonso said nothing. He only stared.

The elevator stopped again, and with a melodic ding, the doors slid open, and a woman in a blue dress, her hair beginning to fall into her face from it’s formerly perfect coif and seeming very out of breath, looked at them both expectantly. When neither moved or said anything, she sighed and stepped inside.

“Going up?” she asked.

Klaus looked at her like she was crazy. She was crazy, he thought, stepping into a building full of people who wanted her dead for some reason. Also, he’d watched her fight with his brother in the street like… like they knew each other. Like she knew him. What’s more, when he’d finally gotten in his car, Klaus had gotten a look at his face as he’d pulled away, just before Alphonso had urged him to start shooting. Five had looked angry, which wasn’t unusual. Klaus might’ve become suspicious if he’d come away from that interaction looking chipper and invigorated. No, it wasn’t the anger that Klaus noticed, that had made his stomach clench now that he was seeing that woman again, the woman that had made his brother look like that.

Five had looked scared, an expression Klaus couldn’t confidently say he'd ever seen on his brother’s face before.

“Hello? Going up?”

Klaus shook his head, returning his face to his usual, roguish grin. “Of course,” he said, sliding past her out the doors, his hand reaching back and mashing as many of the lower buttons as he could before pounding the close doors button, giving her a wink as the doors shut between them and relishing the look of indignation on her face. “Have a nice trip!”

And with that, Klaus trotted to where he was pretty sure the stairs were. He didn’t have any time to waste, and he just knew you’d be angry if you had to watch Five kill some crazy lady. While he knew it wasn’t his fault, he was pretty positive someone would find some way to blame him for it. And, truth be told, he just didn’t want you to be angry with him anymore.

**

You and the Don were sitting in the same room you met him in earlier that day, facing each other. Him, in an armchair that made you wonder how in the world they’d gotten it through the door and up the stairs, you on a couch that was surprisingly comfortable. You didn’t know what to expect from a foreign mob’s local headquarters, but it was certainly lavish, even more so than the Academy.

There were windows, and you were, at the moment, contemplating what a climb down would look like, or if the jump would kill you. But instead, you turned back to your captor with a simple statement. “I got a call from the police a little bit ago.”

“Oh?” Don Bernardi looked you over, deciding if that was a threat or not. “And… you did not tell them where you were?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You gave him a look like you couldn’t believe he was sincerely asking you that. “I don’t think you understand the kind of uproar it’ll cause if anyone finds out I’ve even talked to you.”

“Reggie worked with me for a decade with no issues.”

That was unexpected, and it showed on your face. “That long?”

Don Bernardi nodded, smiling now. “I was twenty four when I met him in Greece. Do you know what my first crime was back then?” You shook your head, curious now. “Helping pilgrims on boats get safely to shore.”

You were surprised. You’d expected it to be something like petty theft, maybe a little arson. “That’s illegal in Greece?” you asked.

“The government would let them drown, and they often do.”

You put a hand to your mouth, absorbing the fact that Reginald Hargreeves had actually done a good deed at least once in his long life. “…and now you murder people?”

“Not unless it’s necessary.”

“And this is necessary?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“Who do you want dead so badly?” you asked, crossing your legs and leaning back, trying to unwind yourself as best you could. “I feel like at this point I have a right to know.”

“This is a promise I made to Sir Hargreeves years ago,” Don Bernardi began. It felt like he was evading your question, but you were intrigued by this development, so you simply sat quietly and listened. “He did not like that his children were not in the business, but foresaw some… tangible obstacles in the way.”

“This person is an obstacle?” you asked, trying to get him back on track.

“Very much so. Unfortunately, I had my own obstacles to deal with back home, so I am only just now getting around to it.”

You frowned. Something wasn’t adding up. “Wait… so you’re saying you need one of the kids to kill this person, but that it’s… for their own good?” You laughed, bewildered. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will, just wait,” the Don assured you.

“Why does it have to be one of them?” you pressed, but the Don shook his head.

“Those were his instructions, ‘make sure he does it himself’,” Don Bernardi recounted. “I believe he thought it would… build character.”

You scoffed. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds like something he’d think.” You looked down, thinking over the options that left. “And you don’t know who it is? Who’s supposed to do the killing, I mean.”

“No,” Don Bernardi glanced to you momentarily, catching your gaze with his hazel eyes. “But I think you might know.”

You averted your eyes back to the floor. “Not Klaus, obviously,” you said quietly. You couldn’t stop thinking about that smell from earlier today. Cold earth. Wet soil; A heavy lie that could mean some dire consequences. Yes, you were pretty sure you knew, but you just didn’t want it to be true. For his sake, it had better not be true.

“You still haven’t told me who you want dead,” you said after a moment, and the Don’s face grew dark.

“It is best if you do not know.”

“Why?” you pressed. “Because then I’d be a liability?”

“Not quite-“

“Or…” you felt your heartbeat spike suddenly, fear making your mouth taste metallic. “Or is it that… that it’s better for the target to stay ignorant?” Your eyes snapped up to his face, unreadable, which only made your panic rise further. “Is that it? Is it me?”

“It is better not to work yourself up over-“

“Fuck-“ you stood, and the Don stood as well, his large frame blocking your only exit. “I’m not letting you do this. I’m not fucking going out like this.”

“Mx. [y/l/n], I am asking you to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” you snarled, lunging toward the door only to find yourself caught on his arm, which you pounded at uselessly with your fists as you struggled to free yourself. “You- you can’t, you can’t make him do this!” You thrashed harder, and Don Bernardi tucked you in closer, unwilling to let you make your escape. “Fucking kill me yourself you coward! You fucking coward! Big man has to get someone else to do his dirty work for him, huh? Right?”

“It was a promise-“

“Fucking bullshit!” you were almost screaming now. “Kill me! Kill me you fucking coward! Asshole! Cowardly fucking asshole! Kill me! Kill me yourself!”

Don Bernardi, recognizing a panic attack when he saw one, opened his mouth to offer you something, anything to calm you down, but his eyes suddenly flickered toward the door, as if he’d heard something. You took the opportunity to lunge forward again, only to find your face enveloped in his massive hand as he shoved you to the ground, calling, “Fai attenzione!” The exclamation perked up the men present, but it was far too late. There was flash of blue light, followed by the rapid sound of gunfire. Two of the men collapsed, and you gasped, keeping yourself low and all but covering your face, unsure of how much more death you could handle today.

Five, glaring fiercely at Don Bernardi, sprinted toward him, and the Don was surprisingly swift in his response, ducking aside as another one of his men came through the door leading to the stairs, his gun cocked and pointed squarely at Five. Another flash of blue before he could pull the trigger, and with a sickening snap, another man was down. Five had no time to gloat, though, finding his gun suddenly wrestled away into Don Bernardi’s grasp. Five, unwilling to let that slide, managed a hard elbow to the face, sending the Don stumbling back a few steps, his hand to his face.

When he moved it, you gasped. Blood was steadily running down the front of his face. You expected some sort of explosive response, for him to grab Five and throw him through a wall or something, and you scrambled to your feet, ready for anything.

But Don Bernardi only blinked, looking down at the blood in his hand with something that could almost be bemusement. “You broke my nose.”

Five wasn’t listening, though. He’d grabbed your hand, yanking you toward him as he made a run for the door. The two of you stopped short as Klaus appeared, looking frazzled, and he stood in the doorway, looking around wildly.

“Five, shit, there’s some crazy lady trying to get up here-“

“Klaus, move! We’re leaving.”

“Right! Yeah, but this lady, she’s supposed to-“

But he didn’t get to finish before he was shoved aside and practically trampled over by Ms. Handler’s perfect blue heels, her face contorted with rage as she advanced upon Five.

“You ungrateful brat!” she snarled, her heels clicking menacingly as she swiped at him. Five stepped back, putting one arm behind him to move you with him, to make sure you were still there, and you stumbled backward, glancing back toward Don Bernardi before her yelling caught your attention again. “I made you! I fucking made you, and you try to kill me? Me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Five snapped, managing to catch one of her hands by the wrist, holding tight as she struggled to free herself. “Why the hell are you even here?”

Klaus scrambled to his feet. “Leave my brother alone, bitch!” He dove toward her, eliciting a scream out of her as he tackled her to the ground.

“Klaus, stop-“ Five tried to intervene, but Klaus already found her fist smashed into the side of his face, sending him backward and giving her the opportunity to scramble back to her feet. Immediately, she was on Five, and as he managed to fend her off, you realized you were decidedly in the way.

For a split second, your eyes met with Don Bernardi’s, and to your surprise, he motioned for you to come to him. Even more surprising, you quickly obeyed, darting out from behind Five just as the woman sent him crashing into the wall. Don Bernardi, one large hand gently placed on your shoulder, maneuvered you behind him, and the gesture struck you as oddly protective.

That must’ve caught Ms. Handler’s attention, because for a second, her eyes wandered to Don Bernardi, and her body froze up in response. She could only stare at him, wide-eyed as Five and Klaus managed to get a safe distance from her, both their arms out protectively as if she were a wild, feral animal.

“D…Don Bernardi…” she finally choked out, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly upward. “I…”

“You are confused,” Don Bernardi said, his voice only slightly softer from his broken nose. “Because you are who I need killed.” Her face went white as a sheet as he held up a gun, Five’s gun, and contemplated it for a moment. “And he is the one to kill you.” He gestured toward Five, whose face betrayed no emotion other than his furrowed brow and his gaze fiercely trained forward. “I am exceedingly lucky my hired assassin was also my desired assassin.” He grinned, and you felt the temperature in the room quickly chill. “So do your job, assassin.”

Five hesitated, his eyes going from the gun, to the man handing it to him and, finally, making your stomach clench dreadfully, to you. You didn’t want to look at him, but when you looked at Klaus, the guilt was written all over his face. He knew. He’d known this whole time. And if Klaus knew, that meant all of them knew. Allison, frantic, calling you on the phone, Ben, putting together the party you’d been nagging them all over for the past month… he’d lied straight to your face. They all had.

Your gaze shifted to his left, where Ms. Handler was standing. Something about the way she was looking at you helped you find your voice again, “Who… are you, exactly?” you asked.

But you found your gaze darting back to Five as he answered for her, “She’s my employer, [y/n]. I worked for her, but I don’t-“

“You… you made him do this?” you asked, your eyes once again squarely on Ms. Handler.

“I…” she faltered, taking a step back. “I didn’t… I just… I gave him work doing something he’s good at.” You felt yourself recoil with disgust as she actually smiled, as if you would understand her, as if you two really only had his best interests in mind, so were you so different after all?

Don Bernardi waved the gun, as if he was irritated at being forgotten. “I do not have all day. The job, please complete it.” This was directed at Five, and you could tell he wanted to, but he hesitated, looking at you again as if he needed permission, or perhaps, he was afraid he’d disappointed you too much already.

Ms. Handler wasted no time, immediately seizing the distraction by wrapping her hands around Five’s throat. Startled, Five fell back, doing his best to fend her off, hardly even able to think about blinking away. Likewise, Klaus seemed dumbstruck, possibly still dazed from being hit in the head. And Don Bernardi was just standing there, like he was watching an inconsequential bar brawl. Your eyes widened as you realized with horror that no one was doing anything. No one was fucking doing anything! And that woman was just grinning down at him, hurting him, killing him…

You had to admit it felt good when you watched the butt of the gun smash into her face, sending her careening back, falling to her knees with a pained cry. The gun rose again, hitting her over the back of her head, sending her further to the ground. Who was doing that, you wondered, watching as the gun swung to the side, hitting her in the temple and sending her completely to the floor.

And then you heard your own voice cry out, “Leave my fucking family alone! Leave us alone!”

Oh, you. It was you hitting this woman over and over, until blood splattered on the wall, on the floor, across your face. You thought you heard yelling, felt familiar hands on your arms, your shoulders, trying to pull you back, but you were yelling too much, and you couldn’t hear them. Finally, when she wasn’t moving anymore, you let the gun fall to your side, your breathing surprisingly heavy. What a workout, you thought, looking over to Five as you felt a smile of relief tugging at the corners of your mouth. Not really relief, though. The feeling was hard to describe, like you wanted to laugh, but you were afraid if you did, you might never stop. In fact, you might laugh so much you’d start screaming, and if you started screaming you just knew you wouldn’t stop until your voice was gone.

And you could tell just from the look on his face that Five knew what it was, that strange feeling you were feeling. He knew it all too well.

That was when the world stopped.

**

Of course, the world didn’t actually stop, not for you anyway. In fact, the next sequence of events would happen within the blink of your eye, and you would be none the wiser. Five, taking a deep breath and covering his eyes momentarily, tried to center himself. He had to get moving, but that look on your face had really throw him off. Broken, that’s how you looked. Absolutely shattered inside. Frankly, he couldn’t stand it, and he wanted you back to your usual, nagging version of affection as quickly as possible.

Slowly, Five moved backwards, and the world began to move with him. Ms. Handler’s skull reshaped itself, and each of your blows bounced off her, making her less and less injured. You strutted in reverse, placing the gun back in Don Bernardi’s palm as Ms. Handler’s hands wrapped back around his neck. Unpleasant, and he grimaced until it was over, her standing near him, staring dumbly at Don Bernardi as he waved the gun at them. Five slowed the reversal, and just as he watched that chilling grin come back to the mafia Don’s face, he released, letting the timeline pick back up at its normal speed in its normal direction.

“So do your job, assassin.”

And Five strode forward, snatched up the gun, turned and fired. Klaus screamed, you gasped, your hands clasped to your mouth tightly, and Ms. Handler fell to the ground, a hole perfectly in the center of her forehead, framed by her platinum curls.

Chapter Text

6

You and the Don sat across from each other, the same spots you’d been sitting in when you met just earlier that day. God, it really had only been a day, hadn’t it? You actually chuckled when you realized it, your shoulders shaking under Five’s jacket, which you’d taken wordlessly when he saw you shivering, staring down at Ms. Handler’s lifeless eyes, and quickly handed it to you. Klaus had reached over tightening it around you and giving you what could only be described as an apologetic smile. The two of them were standing behind you now, Five boring a hole through the Don’s forehead with the ferocity of his glaring, and Klaus with his eyes glued to the ground, his hands clasped guiltily behind him. What a day, you thought, pushing the nagging thought of how much Klaus was blaming himself for what transpired today to the back of your mind, trying to find your words again. What a day, what a day.

“You’ll be going back to Italy now, I assume.”

Don Bernardi nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving you. “Correct…” Another round of silence before he added. “You killed two people today.”

“I...” you frowned, realizing that something about what he’d said was deeply upsetting to you, and strangely, it wasn’t the accusation. “No, I… it was just Klaus.”

Five looked sharply toward Don Bernardi, who only shrugged nonchalantly. “Just the one then.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“No.”

“Hm…” The Don’s gaze finally moved from you back to where Klaus and Five were standing behind you, Klaus looking exhausted, his bullet hole nearly gone, and Five continuing to glare, as much of a warning as he was willing to give with you still present. “You really love your family.”

You laughed, although your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah… yeah, I love these idiots.” You glanced back at the two of them before turning back to the Don. “So please don’t ask them to kill anyone, or sell them any drugs.”

"Of course,” Don Bernardi assured you. “If you wish, this will be the last you ever hear from me.” The Don’s gaze flickered over your shoulder again, resting squarely on Five. “And you… you wounded me rather badly.” He gestured to his bandaged nose, and Five said nothing, only continuing to glower at the enormous man seated in front of you. This, for some reason, sent the Don chuckling. “It is a shame I promised your father I’d release you from your profession, you would be an invaluable addition to my organization.”

“Fuck you and your organization,” Five spat. “We’re leaving now.”

“Wait,” you put a hand up, surprising everyone. “Don Bernardi… can I ask for a favor?”

“What?” Five was incredulous. “[y/n], you can’t be serious.”

“Five…” you turned to look at them, your eyes resting on Klaus momentarily. “Both of you… why don’t you wait downstairs?”

Five bristled immediately at the suggestion, his protests practically overtaking your last word. “Absolutely not! I’m not leaving you alone with this… this maniac-“

Klaus, quick to read the room, reached over and clasped a hand over his brother’s mouth, stifling any further insults. “Hey, come on, we’ll go warm up the car for [y/n].”

As the two of them left, Klaus practically dragging Five out the door toward the stairs. You could still hear their bickering all the way until the door shut behind them. You took your time before you spoke again, letting your eyes wander around the room, stopping on each bloodstain left by the bodies of those who had lost their lives in that room. You easily could’ve been one of them, you thought, remembering how stunned the woman Five shot had looked as the bullet passed through her skull. Was this the legacy the Hargreeves would be left with? Bloodstains and gunfights? Secrets and lies? Maybe… maybe they would be, and they would pass that on to their future generations- Claire and the new baby and whoever else might come along. Or maybe they could do better. Maybe you could make it better.

“Are you still helping refugees into the country?” you asked, and were surprised that Don Bernardi almost seemed pleased that you’d remembered.

“I never stopped,” he said with a grin. “Why do you ask?”

“Let me finance it,” you replied, your hands folded decisively in your lap as you gazed up at him contemplatively.

“The whole operation?”

“Every penny, if you make something go away for me.”

The Don shifted in his chair, clasping his hands in front of him. “I’m listening.”

“You wouldn’t feel so comfortable staying here unless you had some kind of in with law enforcement.” Don Bernardi did not make any move to confirm or deny your speculation. He only sat quietly, listening. “Anything that was connected with him and that… the job, what you hired him for. I want it gone.”

“Gone?”

“Buried. Off their radars forever.”

“That… would take some heavy lifting on my part.” It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully, but your response was impatient, short.

“What, you’d need more money?”

“No, no,” Don Bernardi shook his head. “It’s just… I know you are opposed to… certain…drastic measures.”

You stared at him blankly for a moment before you replied, “You’re saying you might have to kill some people to make this happen?”

“I am, although it is not guaranteed.”

You nodded, mulling it over for only a second before you answered, “Do it.”

“…you are sure?”

“Whatever it takes, do it. We can connect again if things get complicated.”

Don Bernardi looked like he wanted to laugh but, realizing you may take some offense to it, merely covered his mouth with one hand, just barely hiding his grin. You frowned, raising one eyebrow as if to say, You’re not hiding anything.

“I apologize,” he said finally, clearing his throat and returning his face to a more neutral expression as best he could. “You couldn’t wait to be rid of me, and now we will ‘connect again’. I… you are a very interesting person, [y/n].”

It was the first time he’d used your first name, and while you couldn’t say you liked the familiar nature of it, you were just relieved he’d agreed to your request. “I suppose interesting is better than good, in some ways,” you mused unenthusiastically, rising from your chair and extending your hand for the Don to shake. “Send word when it’s done, and I’ll wire the money from one of the… it’ll come from somewhere discreet.”

Don Bernardi, the smile decidedly returned to his face, shook your hand. “You are good too,” he replied. “Family is important. We do what we must.”

You didn't say anything, so he stood, offering his arm to guide you out, which, to your own surprise, you took without hesitation all the way to the door. Once it was shut behind you, he took his time going back to his seat, letting out a content sigh before he called for Alphonso, who scuttled into the room, the shell of the man he had been that morning.

“You wanted to see me, Don Bernardi?” His voice was weak, as if the life had been drained from him over the course of the day.

If the Don was sympathetic to his employee, it didn’t show. He merely nodded. “Call off the hit on Mx. [y/n]. I no longer find it necessary.”

Alphonso, wanting to be out of that room as quickly as possible, only nodded and scurried away, his head bowed and his brow perpetually furrowed. Don Bernardi sat a moment, a slight smile lingering on his face, before he reached into a drawer under his desk and pulled out a small silver box. He stood, crossing to the window as he flicked the case open, revealing a line of cigars and a small box of matches. He glanced at the box, turning it over in his hand. Scrawling handwriting in black ink left only this message,

“ευχαριστώ

            -R.H.”

**

Klaus and Five watched as you exited the building, standing between both cars, clearly at an impasse. Five had insisted they take your car and come back for his later, but Klaus had insisted he drive your car, as you were, in his words, too shell-shocked to be operating heavy machinery. You merely shrugged at the suggestion, fishing your keys out of your pocket and dropping them in Klaus’ palm, much to Five’s horror.

“You know he doesn’t have his license, right?” he asked, following you as you walked toward Five’s car, throwing apprehensive glances back at Klaus, who was already revving the engine of the other vehicle in a rather obnoxious way. “You’ll be lucky if he gets it back to the Academy in one piece.”

“I don’t care about that,” you said plainly, waiting for him to unlock the passenger door. “We need to talk, privately.”

The drive was silent for a good while, Five with his hands clenched on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead, and you leaning against the door, your eyes scanning the passing scenery. You knew what you wanted to say, wanted to ask, but you were having a hard time finding where to start.

You finally settled on an easier question, “How long did you have your job?”

Five hesitated, and you could see him weighing the pros and cons of lying again. It seemed, finally, like he decided on the truth. “…eight years.”

“That’s a long time…” you mused, almost relieved that he hadn’t picked it up while you’d been in charge. “Did you ever report directly to anyone other than that woman?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “No one else.”

“Okay…” You frowned, your eyes scanning the horizon as it ran alongside you, and also very far away, somewhere in your mind. “Why… why did Don Bernardi say I killed two people?”

Five’s stomach turned to ice, but he played it off. “I don’t know. Maybe he was confused.”

“Yeah… maybe.” Neither of seemed entirely convinced, but neither of you were willing to push any further. You had bigger fish to fry. “Promise me that today was the last time…the last time you’ll do anything like that again,” you said. Five said nothing, only staring ahead, and you could feel yourself growing agitated, sitting up and looking at him directly. “Promise me, Five.”

“I can’t,” he answered, his eyes squarely on the road ahead. “I can’t promise you that.”

“Well what can you promise me?” you asked, exasperated, bordering on angry. He’d put you, and the family, in so much danger, made them so vulnerable doing what he was doing, but you seemed to be the only one even remotely upset about it. “I need something, Five. Some assurance. I told you’d I’d have your back, but not if it’s going to keep putting the family at risk.”

“Okay, okay…” he conceded, turning the car down a nearby neighborhood. “I… obviously, I’ll stop the assassin gig. Unless I want to be hired by weirdos on Craigslist, I’m out of luck on that front anyway.” You could tell he meant it as a joke, but you weren’t laughing.

“There’s a ‘but’ at the end of this,” you said, looking at him expectantly.

“Of course there is. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re dangerous people, [y/n].” You didn’t respond to that. “Dangerous people attract other dangerous people. One of us is always going to get into some shit that the others have to bail them out of, you included now, and that might call for some drastic measures that won’t always align with your moral compass.”

“That’s bullshit,” you replied, almost without thinking.

“Really? It’s bullshit?” Five asked, his voice gaining an edge you’d come to recognize as he pulled on to your street and parked. When he finally looked at you, you met his gaze fiercely. “Was everything that happened today bullshit? Was everything we went through as kids bullshit?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-“

“Listen to me,” he snapped, sending you into a stunned silence for a moment. He hesitated, frowned, then finally said, “I’m not a good person, [y/n].”

“Then be better!” you shot back. “I need you to be better, Five. I… I’m not naïve.” He didn’t seem convinced. “I gave up a lot today to protect you, and Klaus, from your… from the consequences of your actions. I know what it takes. I know these things don’t resolve themselves in perfectly non-violent and… and clean ways. I know that.” You sighed, realizing you actually wanted to cry, but you knew that would only derail and conversation and make him feel badly. Instead, you gave yourself a moment before you concluded. “What I’m saying is, let me handle these things from now on. If I need your help, I’ll ask.”

Five looked you over, trying to decide how much of that was the trauma of the day talking and how much you actually meant. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Fuck, what do you want me to say? That I’d kill to make sure none of you ever have to?”

“…no one’s going to like the idea of that.”

“So don’t tell them,” you replied quickly. “This can be our secret. No one has to…” you paused, realizing what, exactly you were saying. You were expecting he would allow you one, to handle potentially dangerous situations with zero help from anyone else in the family, and two, then ask him to keep that fact from them. His family, the ones who had covered for him time and time again any time you inquired or got too close to the truth. You were the outsider here. What right did you have to ask them anything like that?

“Forget it,” you said quietly, exiting the car quickly and moving toward the gate to the Academy. “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Five quickly followed you, calling, “Hey! Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” you snapped, whirling around. “Don’t care about what the fuck happens to you, and your brothers, and your sister, and- and this-“ you waved your hand behind you, vaguely in the direction of the Academy. “This? All this? What I’m trying to build for you all, for us?”

“No,” Five replied. “I mean… don’t act like we’re not allowed to care about you the same way you care about us.” You looked at him like he’d just tried to speak to you in Russian. “…you do know we care about what happens to you, right?”

“I…” You couldn’t honestly say you did know that. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you’d had no reason to think a thing like that. It had been an instinct, a defense mechanism. If you took care of them, sheltered them, that maybe you’d earn some small portion of that trust and care back. It hadn’t occurred to you that you might not have had to work for it, that it had been there all this time.

But before you could articulate any of that, you were swept off your feet into a rib-crushing hug, Klaus’ face buried in your shoulder as he repeated over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Klaus-“ you managed to choke out. “Boundaries!”

Although you could tell he didn’t want to, Klaus set you down, keeping his hands firmly on your shoulders as he scrutinized you, the very picture of a worried mother. “You’re not hurt? That sexy mafia man didn’t tie your feet to cement blocks and throw you in the ocean?”

“I don’t think I’d be here if he had.”

“Well, I don’t know! That’s what they do in the movies.”

“I’m fine Klaus,” you assured him. “I’m more worried about y- ah!” But before you could finish that sentence, Klaus had again, swept you up into his arms, this time carrying you princess style. “Seriously? I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” Klaus replied flippantly, struggling to haul you up the front steps to the door. “When you max out your trauma for the day, you get babied. That’s how we do it here.”

“Gee,” Five mused from behind you, taking his time up the walkway. “It almost sounds like you care a lot about [y/n].”

Klaus scoffed. “Well, duh, don’t we all?”

You couldn’t see Five’s smug grin behind you as Klaus all but kicked the door open. You didn’t need to see it. You could feel it radiating off him even as Klaus strode through the door, finally having found his footing with your weight in his arms. All that was abandoned, though, as the rest of the family emerged from various hiding places into the foyer, yelling surprise in unison. And surprised Klaus was, so much so that he dropped you completely as he clapped his hands to his face.

“For me?” he gushed. “Aw, you guys didn’t have to- oh, shit. Sorry [y/n].”

“All good,” you assured him stiffly, getting up from the floor and straightening yourself out. “Surprise, haha.”

Suddenly, the three of you were positively surrounded by the others, peppering you with questions-

“You’re late! What happened?”

“Klaus, you behaved, right?”

“Five, where the hell were you? You were supposed to help us decorate.”

“…what’s that mark on your head, dude?”

“Okay!” you said loudly, clapping your hands together and sending a hush through them. “That’s enough. Let’s just enjoy having Klaus home, okay?”

Everyone seemed agreeable to that, but Allison approached you nervously, pulling you to the side and making sure no one else was listening before she asked, “What happened with the cops? Is everything okay?”

“Totally fine, don’t worry about it,” you replied without much enthusiasm. “Please, enjoy the party.”

“…are you okay?” Allison asked, leaning over to get a better look at you. “You look like hell.”

“I’m fine. Klaus… he was kind of a handful after I picked him up.”

“I knew it,” Ben declared, startling the two of you as he advanced on his brother. “What did I tell you about making trouble for [y/n]?”

Klaus put his hands up defensively, backing up into the other room. “I’m innocent, I swear!”

“Come on, leave him alone,” Luther interjected, fixing them all with an authoritative look. “If [y/n] just wants to celebrate, then that’s what we’re doing.”

“That’s right, shape up you lot!” Lila barked, her arm linked in Diego’s as she gave you a grin from across the room. “If my baby comes out all weird because I had to force you to have fun, I’m suing.”

“She doesn’t mean that,” Diego added, almost apologetic. “She’s just hungry.”

“I’m fucking starving is what I am,” she corrected him, already heading to the kitchen, where you were sure a fantastic spread was waiting. You hadn’t really gotten a good look at the place since Klaus dropped you in the doorway, but it looked great. Streamers, table cloths, and it looked like maybe someone had thrown some confetti on the floor. Despite the mess, you had to admit you were impressed.    

“You guys really went all out for this…” you said to no one in particular, simply marveling into the air.

Viktor, who was closest and therefore, assumed you were talking to him, just not looking at him (this was, admittedly, something you did to them often- staring off into space and then suddenly speaking to them, not bothering with eye-contact). “Of course, we knew how important this was to you.”

Your face twitched, your mouth ticking upward and your brow knotting together for just a second. It was like, physically, your body didn’t know how to handle this- that what Five had told you outside was right. You could’ve dwelled on it more, but you were exhausted, and hungry, and… well, traumatized, if you were being honest. So instead, you turned off your brain for just a second and followed Diego and Lila to the kitchen, where she greeted you with one handful of cubed cheese, and one bowl full of cocktail wieners smothered in sauce, which you happily fed to her with a plastic fork as she complained about how ridiculous putting this all together had been.

You didn’t stop grinning the whole night.

**

Things wound down, people trickling out of the house to their own homes. Luther was still taking down streamers, being the only one able to reach them (and the one who put them that high up to begin with), Ben was putting away leftovers in the kitchen with Grace, and Five was in the backyard, a cigarette in his hand. That was where you found him when you slipped out for a break of your own, and he gave you a nod, as if you now had permission to stand next to him.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” you said.

“I don’t,” he replied. “But this was a sober party, and I need a drink, so this is a compromise.” He glanced over at you, and it read on your face that you had questions. “I blinked over to the gas station up the street and grabbed a pack a little bit ago.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding slowly. You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small, lidded tin. “I was gonna smoke too… just, well-“

Five gave you a bemused look. “You brought reefer to your son’s sobriety party? For shame.”

You rolled your eyes. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence…” You chuckled. “And nobody calls it reefer anymore.” He didn’t respond, only handing you his lighter. You sparked up, inhaled, and let out a plume of smoke in front of you, coughing slightly. Neither of you said anything for a moment, just smoked and stared out at the night sky, what little you could see of it over the city lights.

“I think I’ve got a compromise,” you said after awhile, and he glanced over at you only a moment before he responded..

“I’m listening.”

“If I can’t stop you from doing…what you need to do, then I at least need to know about it beforehand.”

“That might not always be possible,” he replied carefully.

“After then,” you countered. “God knows you’ll do better with me cleaning up after you.”

“…I suppose.”

“If you start doing this for money again,” you warned, “There’s no cleanup. I’ll drop you like you’re on fire.”

“I get it. You have my word.”

You turned and extended your free hand toward him. “Shake on it.”

He looked down at your hand, back at you, gave you a look as if he didn’t believe you were serious. But when you didn’t waiver, or laugh, he sighed and, begrudgingly, shook your hand.

“Heh,” you chuckled, taking another drag of your joint and letting it out through your nose. “I feel like I just got the closest thing to a hug that I’ll ever get from you.”

When the smoke cleared, you realized Five was red up to the tips of his ears, silently puffing on his cigarette It made you laugh for the first time all day, giggling at first, but then growing into pealing laughter, taking you to your knees. Five ignored you as best he could.

You heard the door open behind you, and the unmistakable gallop of Klaus’ gait. Still giggling, you quickly stood, looking to the cigarette in Five’s hand, glancing back to Klaus’ advancing form, and then, as quickly and discreetly as you could, you snatched the lit cigarette out of his hand, leaving your half-finished joint in its place. Before he could protest, Klaus gasped, feigning utter betrayal.

“Wow!” he cried, pointing to Five in an accusatory manor. “Wow, I’m back one day, and you’re doing illicit drugs in my house? The nerve.”

“The absolute nerve,” you agreed, moving past him. “Who in the world would do that to their own brother?”

“Ha ha,” Five said humorlessly. “You owe me a cigarette!”

You put it between your lips, glancing back over your shoulder to give Five a final, triumphant grin as Klaus followed you back toward the house. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, taking a drag before extinguishing the ember into the earth near the back door. “I would never smoke, it’s terrible for you.”

Klaus chuckled, knowing full well you reeked of weed and your eyes were bloodshot (although, he wondered how much of that was stress). Five chuckled too, shaking his head as he, too, extinguished his newfound, illicit cigarette. And you, you went to bed that night dreaming of being at the bottom of the ocean, a looming figure walking toward you in the distance. You should’ve been, but you found, even after you woke up and thought back on it the next day, you weren’t afraid in the slightest.