00 || F I V E || 05

As much as I like this url, I think I am going to move Five to my multi. I simply don’t end up writing him much over here.

You can find him here from now on:

@muse-gathering

She would nod confirming her cousins though would pause and for a brief moment questioned if she had anything to do with the apocalypse…Time travel was dangerous and a lot of unknown outcomes could happen but she hadn’t thought she would actually be experiencing an actual apocalypse anytime soon.

Hearing him say he might help if him and his siblings made her finally speak up, 

“…Who are you..?”

The only other person she knew of that could time travel was the same person she was trying to go back in time to save…And last time she remembered they weren’t a child, but honestly after the years she had anything was possible at this point.

Ceara might be useful. He’d not involved his siblings beyond Klaus briefly without providing an explanation for fear of their involvement leading to their deaths, just how he found them originally some days from now. Five was the difference now, not them. Although saving them inherently included preventing the Apocalypse, the converse did not necessarily hold. They could still die. As much as perhaps having the thought was cruel, she was as expendable as he was. Who better to put their lives on the line than someone who could likely never return to her dimension and him, who already lived a life. Working out the equations to send her back might take them an entire lifetime, and worse it could result in him living a third one. He hadn’t even wanted to live through the first. He didn’t plan on trudging through the second, so why risk even more?

In comparison to his siblings, she seemed more mature. She didn’t push back against his inferences, she didn’t argue with him or deny the truth. She was able to accept reality at face value. Those were qualities his siblings lacked, except him of course.

Her brows furrowed at him saying it was bullshit, though soon would cross her arms a bit, “Like I’ve said its finicky…That and I haven’t done this before.” Oh she hated to admit that, believing she knew what she was doing but obviously it was shown she really didn’t know and just took any chance she could to get where she wanted to go…Though him asking why not kill herself did make her raise a brow…That had been a thought but she was too determined to get where she needed to be.

A look of curiosity though soon shown her face at his question of how many siblings she had..The sense of familiarity was growing by the second as she answers, 

“I’m an only child…Though my cousins are like siblings to me.”

“Cousins,” he repeated quietly, clenching his teeth a moment before sighing and shaking his head a little. His hands found their way to his hips, “Shit.” His vague consideration gained validity quickly with her response. Her last name indicated she was not an unadopted sibling, but her designation as an only child decidedly meant she also wasn’t an adopted sibling. Then, she also had cousins she felt close to, which implied offshoots of the family. None of that fit the framework of this timeline, and he knew nothing he’d done sent ripples that profound.

Still, it didn’t make sense to him. His ability was powerful, but to create a rift between dimensions would take too great a toll. By all means, in that case he should have died in his own temporal jump from 1963 the first time. However, if she just jumped, and they somehow crossed paths, perhaps together it would have left them relatively unscathed. He wished his mind would stop rationalizing the possibility, but the more he considered it, the less impractical it was.

“Look, I don’t have time for this; the Apocalypse is in six days.” His fingers shifted from the pen to the useless eye in his pocket. The longer he pulled at this thread, the more it seemed like a dead end. If the prosthetic meant nothing, then not only were his options limited, but also he’d wasted years pondering its meaning for naught. How many mistakes could he possibly make? “If my siblings and I survive, I might help you get back to your dimension, if we find a way that doesn’t risk unraveling either of our timelines.” At this point, he assumed his logic to be correct. There was no other plausible explanation. Therefore, he took this one as fact. Like her just seconds ago, Five didn’t offer much by way of explanation, “But until then, you’re shit out of luck.”

She paused hearing a voice before quickly turning around to see who it was, giving a mixture of confusion and curiosity...She didn’t know who this kid was but...Had a strange sense familiarity that gnawed at her heart.

“Ceara Hagreeves...And call it a miscalculation..I’m trying to get home but time travels..Finicky.”

A small look of uncertainty of what she said would be understood spread on her face before brushing her hair back a little, “I don’t have time to be talking to a kid.” There was hesitation before she speaks again, “What year is it?”

“Bullshit,” he accused, not missing a beat between her explanation and his response. Still, Five considered her explanation. As certain as he was that the Commission remained after him, he thought her methods too unconventional for them. Even if she were an unheard of sibling (which, now that he thought of it, was more possible than he liked to seriously consider) or unfortunate quasi-copy of himself, she would have a briefcase. Certain protocols could not be sacrificed for deception; an incorrect temporal jump risked far too much, especially with one so obviously unaccustomed to performing one, “Just ‘getting home’ isn’t worth the risk of a miscalculated time jump unless you have nothing to lose, in which case, why make the jump at all? Why not just kill yourself?” Five spent decades on his calculations and still ended up in this prepubescent flesh-prison. If there hadn’t been reason to return, he would have ended his suffering long ago. Some fates were worse than death. Why tempt them? 

His eyes narrowed, “Unless...” His own calculation may have damaged more than he originally assumed. Briefcases bypassed the complexities of backwards time travel by dimensional shift; the operator popped into a pocket dimension and reappeared in this one, rendering temporal direction irrelevant. It was clever. His ability didn’t afford him that luxury, so he honestly didn’t much consider dimensional tampering. He assumed such major alterations out of his range, simply impossible. What if he underestimated himself? This could have just become much more messy.

His gaze stuck to his hands. They were so small. Preventing his siblings from perishing in the Apocalypse was too important to be distracted, but his mind lapsed involuntarily. His voice was so high. He was so low to the ground. Now and again this feeling tightened his chest, restricting his airflow. All his skin crawled, his entire existence profoundly wrong. 

No matter how long Five managed to stay on task, his focus inevitably fractured at the slightest respite. Claiming that he’d barely slept these past two days would be an understatement. Still, he needed to move, keep going, press forward, but all he could do was listen to himself breathe, the relative silence drawing him back to the last time he inhabited this body. It was his, yes, but his from a nightmare, which was actually a memory. For a moment, he was back, a cruel shift from trying to save them to finding their lifeless corpses. The rain did that especially, it seemed. Rain becoming dust, ash rising through the air. Moving through time could mess with the mind, but this went beyond that.

If meticulously repressed memories continued cropping up whenever his physical body matched them, passing away might be preferred over reaching his twenties.

The temporal disturbance that tore through the air did not come from him this time, a fact that finally drew his attention away from himself. The sprinkle of rain dampened his clothes, concealing the film of cold sweat on his skin. His hand wandered to the pen in his pocket, fingers wrapping around it. This didn’t line up with the Commission, though. They couldn’t mimic his powers. A briefcase wouldn’t have induced a portal. Just what he needed: another unknown variable tossed into the equation. He flashed into the alleyway, landing on the balls of his feet, pen tight in his hand but still hidden in his pocket. 

It thankfully wasn’t another version of himself, for that would have been a true nightmare, but that begged the question: who the fuck was it? Five relished in the brief stillness, which nearly mirrored peace of mind, before posing his question, “Who are you, and why are you here?” He didn’t have time to play games. The world ended soon, and Five wasted enough time already today.

Dark chocolate eyes narrowed as one peered into the thincrosshairs of the scope. Breath moved his chest in a steady rhythm. In…out…in…out.Quietly, the sound of soft thumping beat in his chest. Calm. He was calm as thecrosshairs settled on the form, nearly even hundred meters away. Drawing in afinal breath, his finger moved along trigger. Now or never. Drawing in a deepbreath, he held it deep in his chest. There was no hesitation as the triggerwas pulled back. The rifle let out a loud bang. Valek’s body was unflinching atthe sharpness of the blast. Instead his eye was locked on the target. Directhit. The body slumped against the ground; blood pooling around their head.Confirmed elimination.

Releasing the breath, he had been holding. The man rose fromhis kneeling position. With seasoned experience, the male moved quickly todismantle the rifle. Within less than three minutes, the rifle was packed away,and he was walked casually down the street. Time to grab an cup of coffee and headhome.

.

The distant bang didn’t perturb him, but the way his primary lead suddenly jolted and slumped against the ground certainly caught his attention. The Commission provided him with far too little information this assignment. His target was an agent of the MI6 on his own mission in the United States. Five didn’t need to know the details. All he needed to do was find him and eliminate him before noon the following day. More precisely, he needed to bury a knife in his chest. This young woman was about to lead him right to him. 

The marksmanship was too perfect; the bang had not been close. There was no reason for a sniper of this caliber to take out this young woman. Five flashed to the body, examining the place of impact, considering the sound of the fire arm, and sorting through a flurry of mental math before flashing about a hundred meters away. However, the culprit was already gone.

No one part of this timeline here right now would be that good; this was one of theirs. Even so, they could only be so far away. He spatial jumped one way, another way, a third way, and a fourth before appearing right in front of the man he suspected most. It was an educated guess, but Five thought the probability was high enough to skip unnecessarily beating around the bush. He didn’t need to know his name.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

Five managed a gasp, eyes squeezing shut. The elasticity of their flesh lingered on his skin; he’d buried the bodies he found days too late to avoid decay. He’d thought he would find his way back those first days; that was fifteen years ago. His fingers trembled as they grasped too firmly at the worn canvas, “This’s not...” Words didn’t come easily, dying on his lips as he took in the scene once again, every last detail inexplicably as Five remembered, “This makes no sense.”

It was a now-faded painting of the academy in ruin, his siblings bodies strewn about. Only, it was dated well before the event could have occurred.

“No,” he called back to the silence surrounding him, “Well, yes.” How long had he stood here, just staring? Long enough for Dolores to worry, at least; she didn’t say so outright, but he could tell by her tone of voice, “I found a painting.” Upon closer inspection, there was a signature.

~~~

Two leads were more than many of his missions with the Commission provided. Often, they were just a name and an order; he found a loose thread--or preferably two--himself when necessary and just pulled until the details he needed unraveled. The key difference between then and now, however, was that in those instances he was the inevitable. Now, Five sought to prevent the inevitable instead with nothing but the added complication of his siblings’ involvement. They were intolerable children, but that only intensified his conviction: they had so much maturing to do. They deserved the chance to grow up and make their own mistakes along the way. Judging by how they acted now, there would be many; hopefully, the consequences of theirs wouldn’t be on the same scale as his. 

His entire life built up to this moment, yet here he was grasping desperately at loose ends. The prosthetic eye turned up nothing of value. He was left with his less tangible option; should it also fall through, he had calculations to do. Eliminating three or four specific people could tweak the events just enough to prevent the Apocalypse, but sorting out just who would be tedious. Five would have to try, but he hoped it didn’t come down that close to chance in the end. 

“I’m looking for Carmen Cumel.” Jesus, he hated his voice. His lips pursed, but he forced them into a smile nevertheless; Five didn’t have time to grapple with the discomfort.

His attempt at something lighthearted evidently didn’t land, but the phrasing amused him. Knives weren’t optimal; no one seriously trying to physically open a person for any passable reason would use a knife: often too small for a clean cut yet too inaccurate for a large incision. In all other cases, opening a person just meant killing them. One could do that with just about anything. However, he wasn’t going to explain the joke; she wouldn’t understand anyway, “Do you remember when I asked for your opinion?” 

“No?” He paused, but not long enough for an answer, “Good, me neither.”

Dave wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth of the coffee calm him. He watched Five as he talked, taking in everything about him from the way he sat to the way he said his words.

Five was clearly still in love with this woman, probably the only person Five really did love. And yet he had seemingly accepted this separation with a simple “we were never the same.” The veteran took a deep breath and a sip of coffee before speaking again.

‘You know, all my life I was told to find someone compatible to me. So I spent my life acting like I was looking for a girl who was like me. Hard working, serious, straight forward. But I found myself attracted to the opposite.’ Dave smiled slightly, looking down at the coffee. ‘And I was always the one to leave. Because the men I was attracted to were too different from me. Even if it were possible for us to be together I thought, it would never work in the end. And then I met Klaus.’ 

He looked back up at Five and shrugged. ‘Tell me Five, are Klaus and I at all alike?’

His eyes rolled slightly, but he closed them instead and slowly released his breath. Dave sought to console him, as if a handful of words might make anything better? Really? Dave and Klaus might have their happily ever after, and if they did Five would be happy for them, but that kind of ending wasn’t meant for him. The Commission would reform; they would return. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t yet, but they would. He had to be ready. They all had to be ready. This calm didn’t make sense. 

That could have been part of why he couldn’t sleep at night. 

His response was sharp, ignoring Dave’s question and discounting his story (as touching as it was), “I didn’t mean we weren’t alike each other.” They had their differences, but Dolores really was more like him than most: smart, logical, critical, occasionally emotionally distant. She’d even been correct about his equations. They had made quite the pair, “I meant our relationship was never the same.” He leaned forward a little from where he sat on the counter-top, “Tell me, Dave, if Klaus abandoned you to the rest of your life alone in the apocalypse, would you forgive him?” He intended this question to be rhetorical; it didn’t matter how Dave might respond. If he said he would forgive him, then he was lying. Five hadn’t even had the decency to kill Dolores before he left.

“I-I’d like that. It, it’d be good for us. Get out of,” she motioned to the space around them, unsure of exactly how to describe it, “here for a bit.”

Willow grabbed her own cup, picking at the cardboard. “I-I’ll talk to you then. Okay?”

His sentiments exactly. As much as he would have cut off his own foot a couple decades ago to be here, the atmosphere suffocated him more than comforted him now. It probably would have then, too. He raised the coffee back up to his lips, taking a long sip despite knowing it was too hot. The burn helped him focus. Willow came here looking to connect, and all Five did so far was make her flinch. While initially he internally blamed the alcohol, he knew there was more there, so much more. How long could he drown it for before he...

No, Five felt relatively sturdy; his sanity would hold. Yes, it felt like it was fraying with nearly every conversation he endured with his siblings, but he still held on as he always did. How long could he keep hold of the threads? Hopefully, he just wouldn’t live long enough to find out a limit, but knowing how the world tended to work, he would long outlive all of his siblings again. 

Finn turned his head to look at the other man as he sat next to him, frowning slightly. This…wasn’t normal. Not that he’d really know, Finn had gotten a crash course in Commission protocol before being shipped off to kill Finn James but he was pretty sure sitting and talking with your mark was frowned upon.

Maybe because he was from the same place? The clone shook his head slowly at the question, he knew he should be trying to stop the bleeding but he couldn’t figure out why he should. There was nothing to go back to at the James house, that bridge was burned, and he knew what was waiting for him at the Commission. A quick interrogation to find out what went wrong and then…he’d die.

‘I don’t want to be used to hurt her anymore.’ Finn assumed that this man didn’t know anything about his mission and that was fine. If he didn’t say her name then well…it didn’t hurt as much. ‘And if I go back they’ll use me to hurt her.’

Were clones supposed to be able to develop sentiment? That sounded like a major flaw in design to Five, but then emotions would inevitably prove more efficient and believable. His mind briefly flipped though the risk-benefit ratio of affective computing while Finn processed Five’s lack of immediate action. The shake of Finn’s head was enough of a response for Five; he didn’t need to know however it truly happened. If whoever it was still posed a threat, he’d impale them on a tree branch, so even in that sub-optimal case it didn’t really matter.

He didn’t know anything about Finn’s mission or how it went south; it hadn’t been necessary information. However, the larger details weren’t difficult to infer.

“Just a question is all.” He seemed a bit irritated at Five’s response. “Hear you’re the best of the best. Wanted to get in your head, see how you work.”

The Doctor scoffed, deciding on one of the scalpels at his side. “If you want to leave, you can, you know. No one’s forcing you. You get a choice, not like, well-” He motioned to the body, his idea of a joke.

How he worked varied from assignment to assignment. Five more typically carried out assassinations than anything else, and they tended to be relatively straight forward, save for the location of targets on occasion. If the instructions were vague, he found a loose thread, preferably two from different angles, and pulled until he had the answers he needed. This particular job took a lot of pulling. Five couldn’t just flash from one to another with a knife, which was inconvenient, “This isn’t how I usually work; it was a pain in the ass.” 

Talking, was both to distract himself and save the trouble for later. Honestly not a tactic he usually had to go for. But especially if he was about to be in a car with somebody else. Felt bad enough when things went wrong regarding strangers. A sibling would be the worst experience fathomable. 

Could have been softer put; yet more so about the family part than what came before it. Or maybe just a bit used to harshly critiquing his own life. Plus if you beat somebody to the punch. Less likely they could throw it. Just a little paranoid constantly in that regard.

“It’s more like- I am still trying to find my footing with you all.” Taylor looked out the window. “Which is rough, even if I hadn’t been in a solitude state before everything happened.” Hardly wanted to bother any of them; doubted they even had entirely noticed his trying to warm up. Certainly trying even for all he wanted to slip back into solitude. 

Looking over at Five. “So I basically am prejudging myself on everybody’s behalf, especially granted my before everything was relatively normal aside a fair amount of messed up situations.” 

Honestly, the more time Five spent among his siblings, the more removed from them he felt. He missed so much of their lives, and they missed everything about his. What they recalled about him was such a small fraction from so long ago; they remembered the boy he saw now in the rear-view mirror better than he did himself. Five scoffed softly as he reached up to adjust the reflection from his face to the rear windshield. Taylor needed to find his footing? Taylor had been in a state of solitude before this? The huff of air and slight shake of his head was subconscious, but Five made no attempt to moderate his next words despite tasting the callousness of them on his tongue, “Look--” He turned, car still in park, to fix his eyes directly on Taylor’s face, “--all of us are finding our footing with each other. If we tip-toe around it like children, we’ll just drift apart.” 

His gaze dropped to the gear shift, taking the car out of park before looking out over the driveway. He offered an additional statement, almost a musing-- “Not that we all were ever really together.” --before he began to drive. 

//I know I’ve been quiet over here recently. I’ve had more muse for Ben and Klaus over on my multi-muse [ @muse-gathering ] the last couple weeks. Sometimes I write Luther and Reginald over there too. I’m also working on the process of finally starting HRT, so that’s been taking up my time. 

Willow gave a half-suppressed laugh at Five’s joke. 

“I…I-I’m gonna do it!” Her voice was filled with a sense of excitement, like a child about to go to the local park. She hadn’t thought of selling it, either, but even if she had, she wouldn’t wish the mask and its history on any unsuspecting soul.

Her hands glowed, and a tree from outside drooped ever so slightly as she took the energy. “O-okay, stand back-”

Jesus, she was so young. Although always aware of his siblings’ youth, Five now and again so clearly heard it in their voices, observed it in their actions, and detected it in their opinions that he felt older than he was, even mentally. They had their entire lives left ahead of them, scores of mistakes still to make. The man would endure everything a second time if it ensured they would always have this chance to make their own missteps. Hopefully, the consequences of theirs would be less harsh than his. 

That had been the point, really: if anyone was going to fuck up their lives, at the very least he wanted it to be them not the apocalypse. Granted, they originally  caused the apocalypse; the irony of that was not lost on him.