Chapter Text
A soft white light bloomed before him. Five had no idea what time it was but he recognised the familiar glow of the early morning inviting him to join the land of the living.
He opened his eyes slowly. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the daylight, the first thing he noticed was the green slope of his bedroom ceiling. It was covered in his usual chalk scrawl of equations, graphs and connecting arrows. He followed the notes as they crept onto other walls and out of sight. The list of four names sat directly above him. In another timeline, their deaths might have saved the world. Five would never know.
He tore his eyes away from them and took in his surroundings. It was surreal to wake up in his childhood bedroom after forty-five years. The nostalgia he felt in this place was almost sickening. He was tucked up in bed and had been dressed in the soft embroidered pyjamas with the umbrella emblem on the chest. No doubt his uniform was wrecked and anything that could be salvaged needed a good cleaning. Thankfully, whatever care he had needed had not required the use of the infirmary, or if it had, Grace had deemed his condition stable enough to make him comfortable in his own room.
Apart from the wall scrawl, it looked just like he remembered it when he was a kid. When he’d first come back here to change out of his newly over-sized Commission suit, he had been struck by how much had stayed the same. The room had been left untouched, just waiting for the return of the child to whom it belonged. It had been the easiest form of time travel he’d ever experienced.
The main difference was the presence of Dolores who sat in the comfortable blue sofa chair by his bed. He’d said goodbye to her before leaving to meet The Handler but hadn’t told her what he was planning on doing. He reckoned that she probably knew anyway. She always seemed to know and the look she gave him now was one of relief. She’d kept a vigil over him while he slept and would stay until she was no longer needed. He never deserved her.
Taking a deep breath, Five moved to push himself into a sitting position. He noticed how heavy his body felt, like he was being held down by something other than Grace’s hospital corners. He managed to drag himself upright, his shoulders straining to lift his weight, before finding his movements restricted by two tugs of pain. The worst had come from his stomach and when he’d tried to shift his position, another pull caught his right hand. He looked down to find an IV attached to a drip by the side of the bed. He’d certainly needed it, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Grace had taken the opportunity to get some extra fluids into him while he was passed out.
His attention then turned to his stomach and the treacherous bastard that had taken him out. Tentatively, he pulled up his pyjama top and found a clean dressing covering the shrapnel wound. Five poked at the medical tape with his finger and winced as a stinging pain coursed through him. Thankfully, it dissipated quickly. He put his finger to the same spot and rode out another small wave of pain. It wasn’t enough to keep him bed bound and, so long as he took things slowly at first, it wouldn’t stop him doing what he needed to do.
‘Morning, sleepyhead. Rise and Shine!’ Five’s heart sank and he snapped his head round to locate the speaker. Any remnants of sleep disappeared and the voice he had started to miss commanded the attention of the room. The Commission’s most ruthless and feared assassin stood by the closed door, hands in his trouser pockets and looking down his nose at his younger self. The spectre had left his nightmares and wore his old face to taunt him anew.
Five's first instinct was to blink away. He went to move but the drip and the bandaging kept him in place. ‘Don’t get up.’ The older man held out his hand to stop the boy from making another move. ‘You’ll rip your stitches. Can’t have you undoing Grace’s good work.’
The assassin took a step further into the room, surveying the familiar décor, until his eyes landed upon Dolores, propped up in her chair by the bed. He stopped and diverted his path to walk past her, kissing her forehead just above the chip damage that she had always been embarrassed to show. ‘Hello, dear. Long time no see. I hope he’s looking after you in the manner that befits a lady such as yourself.’ He addressed her kindly and, maintaining eye contact, reached down and kissed the back of her hand. Their old routine tugged at Five’s memory as he watched his old self go through the motions.
Reintroduction complete, the old man turned and glared at his younger self before moving to sit at the end of the bed. He removed his hat, placed it by his side and glanced around the room, continuing his inventory of the space and scoping out all possible exits. Ever the professional. ‘I can see you’ve redecorated. I don’t like it. I’ve heard painting is much quicker...’
‘Cut the crap, asshole, and get to the point.’ Five spat vehemently. He wasn’t going to take any more idle chit chat. Why was he here? What did he want?
‘Ah ah ah!’ The older man scalded, wagging his finger at the boy in the bed. ‘Manners maketh the man, Five. You should respect your elders.’
‘I’m older than you, shit heel.’
‘Apparently so. Remind me again, have you had your bar mitzvah yet?’ His old self scoffed. Five smarted at the dig but rolled his eyes contemptuously to try and show how little he thought of the verbal prodding. The old man wasn't done. ‘You know, I was rather looking forward to my retirement. Settling down somewhere quiet. Spending whatever time we have left doing as we pleased. It’s pretty sobering to find out that I’m destined to inhabit our teenage body and run around in that ridiculous uniform because I couldn’t do my sums.’
‘What I look like is irrelevant…’
‘Didn’t factor this into our calculations, did we? “You must be this tall to stop the apocalypse!”’ The older man was enjoying poking the bear. He was clearly relishing the opportunity to take the piss out of himself without the threat of rebuke. ‘Only we could make saving the world harder than it already was.’ His younger but older looking self was getting on his nerves. The audacity of the man to invade his space and mock him was becoming too much to bear.
‘Listen, idiot. I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re the one who got us into this mess and I’m...’
‘Oh yeah? How do you figure that out?’ The kid in the bed stared at the older man for a few seconds in pure consternation. He tried to control the anger that had been building since he realised that there were two of him in the same room, but the seething rage forced him to speak.
‘You’re the one who miscalculated the time dilation projections! We worked on this for forty-five years. Questioning every angle, checking and double checking. Giving it to Dolores for another opinion when we could no longer tell numbers from letters.’ Five gestured to her, hoping she would help reinforce his point. He had no idea how many times her second opinion had saved his life. She would go through his calculations by his side and point out any inconsistencies. Some were easier to see than others, in the same way that some mistakes would have been more deadly than others. He’d had to invent a whole new branch of physics just to make time travel work with his powers which meant that mistakes were commonplace. That was why it had taken him so long to work out the maths or so he told himself. It had all been a matter of time.
‘But then a flash of dazzling inspiration reared its head in Dallas, and you jumped without a second look. Dolores knew there was something wrong alright, and now…now I’m the one dealing with the consequences.’ He gestured down at himself. The body was too small and too young. He’d accepted his situation for the time being but there was a constant gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach that told him that he was all wrong. He was sick of feeling like he didn’t belong in this world, and he didn’t need the constant reminders from those around him that he wasn’t himself. Five had given in to the anger now and didn’t care about the smarting pain across his stomach as he leaned forward to direct more acid at his other self. This little shit was going to get it.
‘I’m stressed and I’m tired and my hormones are raging so I don’t know whether I’m coming, going or gone most of the time. I can’t hold my liquor anymore, and we both know that if I ever needed a fucking drink, its right about now. I’m belittled at every turn and treated like I don’t know what I’m talking about because I look like a fucking child. I’m trapped in this stupid pubescent body with no idea whether or not I can change back or if I’m stuck like this forever. I’m not trying to have a pissing contest with you, Five. There is no time to spare with the apocalypse breathing down our neck and I’m the one having to deal with it. Not you. So can we please just get on with it?’
Five’s scalding of himself reached its crescendo, leaving behind only the sound of his heightened breathing. He hadn’t realised how animated he’d become. There was a lot of fuel left in the tank, but he was tired, and he knew deep down that his other self knew most of what he wanted to say anyway. He had got out what he needed to get out and felt a whole lot better for it.
He’d kept an eye on the old man as he faced the brunt of his tirade. At times, a wry smile had crossed his face, but otherwise he had considered everything that Five had said as gospel. He had listened and seemed to acknowledge the vitriol as it spewed forth from the child who had no business speaking like he did. Satisfied with his outburst, Five leant back against his pillow, folding his arms, careful not to dislodge the IV. There was silence for a very long time.
‘Feel better? Now that you got that off your chest. Had your little tantrum?’ The old man quipped.
‘Don’t get smart with me, kid.’ Five felt that he had calmed down, but he had always been good at pressing someone’s buttons, including his own. There was another long silence as both men accepted their positions in this bizarre interaction. ‘I know this isn’t real by the way. The light hasn’t changed since you entered the room and I’m not feeling any symptoms of paradox psychosis. I’m still asleep…’
‘Unconscious…’
‘Same difference.’
‘It isn’t.’ The other man snapped, sounding more frustrated than angry. Now, it was his turn to raise his voice. ‘You pushed too hard, got yourself injured and now you’re unconscious. Wasting precious time. Our family is out there screwing everything up, just like they did before, and you’re tucked up in bed recovering because you didn’t know when to stop.’
‘You know as well as I do that stopping was never an option. We’re in the final days of this thing we’ve been chasing our entire lives. I’m not just going to tap out now.’ The older man acknowledged what Five was saying, but it didn’t look like he believed him. Before Five could say anymore, the older version pushed himself up from the end of the bed and started pacing back and forth along the length of the room.
‘Okay, so what’s your plan, bucko? What’s the next move? Our best lead turned out to be a dead end. I can see you’ve given free rein to this probability map with, I’m guessing, minimal to zero success. Oh, and you had to go and find Dolores because your family weren’t listening.’ What was this? Some kind of inquisition?
‘They’re listening now. First point of action is to rally the family back together and then stop Harold Jenkins from destroying the world.’ The words tumbled out of his mouth as fast as he could think them. Even he had to admit that it wasn’t much of a plan. He needed to find the rest of the family, see if any of them had gotten into trouble, and work from there. He couldn’t very well do that from inside a nightmare in his bedroom.
‘Ah yes, the family.’ The older Five raised his eyebrows as he looked down at his younger self. ‘It’s worked out well so far. They didn’t even notice you were injured after you got back from the Commission. How long were you hobbling around? Bleeding all over your uniform and they still only noticed something was wrong when you collapsed.’
‘They didn’t need to know. We needed to find Harold Jenkins fast and any distraction would have wasted valuable time.’ Five knew where this was going. It had been the same conversation he’d had with Luther, with Dolores, with himself. This wasn’t just about him.
‘But if they had known that you were hurt or had been given the opportunity to help sooner, then maybe you wouldn’t be knocked out, tucked up in bed and talking to yourself, right now? Yet again, we fail to accept that we are the cause of our own downfall. If you’d been open and honest with them from the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess. We wouldn’t be wasting the time you’re so precious about.’ Five knew the man was right. He hated it. He had always wanted to protect his family from the worst of it because they didn’t deserve to see it. Five had done unspeakable things and seen unimaginable horrors in his long life and he knew that he deserved the burden he had placed upon his own shoulders. His family didn't.
‘I refer you to my previous statement. They didn’t need to know. I was handling everything perfectly fine.’
‘We always had an interesting definition of the word ‘fine’, didn’t we?’ The old man smirked. ‘You know that your plan to keep them in the dark was never going to work? By trying to keep them safe, Klaus ended up in the Vietnam War, Diego lost Patch and Viktor is currently off somewhere with said Harold Jenkins, probably none the wiser about who he is. They were always a part of the plan even if you like to think otherwise.' The words punched him in the gut.
Five had hoped that it had just been the shrapnel wound flaring up, but he knew better than that. He felt a pressure building in his chest and behind his eyes as he worked to avoid his older self’s gaze. No matter how hard he tried, he could never keep them completely safe. He was a failure and they both knew it. The older man seemed to notice the reaction he was having and came to sit back on the bed, this time a little closer.
‘Everything we choose to do, including keeping them out of it, has an effect on the timeline. Doing has just as much of an impact as not doing. You shouldn’t be punishing yourself by doing this alone. The Umbrella Academy might be long gone, but the reason it worked in the first place was the family at its heart. What do you think this whole saving the world thing was all about anyway?’ The kid in the bed’s gaze met his old eyes dead on. He hated it when he was right.
‘Our family. It’s always been about our family.’ Five uttered quietly. A confirmation to himself more than anything else. He had made a deal with himself that he would get back and he would save them and together they would save the world. He had accepted The Handler’s deals in the apocalypse and in 2019 to give him the best chance to get back to them. Those handshakes had cost him everything and he knew he had to fulfil his side of the bargain.
In the distance, a bell started ringing.
‘Can you hear that?’ Five looked confused as he glanced past his older self towards the closed bedroom door. The old man reached back to collect his hat from the end of the bed and turned to give himself one last knowing smile.
‘‘Wake up, sunshine. You’ve got a world to save.’