a·na·chro·nist

        he wrapped long, skinny fingers around the warm ceramic mug on the table between the two of them, in it, coffee that he’d been neglecting that had dwindled down to a lukewarm mess that he no longer wanted to drink. he dragged the cup across the polished wood, closer to himself.

        “fun is against the rules, you know that,” he said with a hint of amusement and a small smile in tow. “absolutely not allowed.”  

                    ❝ and if you weren’t so prone to attention-grubbing outbursts, maybe we’d have invited you along sometime when we actually snuck out, ❞   five says pointedly, quite aware that this is probably news to klaus.

          Once again, everything is moving too fast. The kid does him no favours and manages to only make Nathan question more. It doesn’t slip by that he still hasn’t told him his name yet either, something that Nathan considers rather important. If he is going to be kidnapped and poofed off to visit a twelve year old and his pet monkey, he would like a few names. Then, at least, he would know who to curse later once he– Hang on. 

          “‘Apocalypse’?” Suddenly none of Nathan’s other questions matter. “What, like– the world’s gonna end? Like–” He brings his hands together then spreads them with a flourish. “SHHH-BOOOM!” Big green eyes turn up to the boy and, really, Nathan should stop there. His point is across. But of course he doesn’t. That would be too merciful.

          “KKSHHHK-PEEEWWWW! Eeeeeeek! Oh, god, the humanity!” Arms spread and wave, and he’s throwing himself across the room. “No, no!” He drops, feet firm on the ground, and shakes – an earthquake, possibly. Maybe. If the earth had become possessed by a horde of angry demons. “Rrrmble, rrrmble, rrrmble— CRRRRSHHH!! AAAH, NO! I’m still a virgiiiiin!” 

          And the whole embarrassing display comes to a dramatic – and unfortunately unhurried – stop as he drapes himself over the table at the center of the room, giving his best theatrical death. Nathan holds it for a few seconds, waiting. Then his body jerks with a gasp and he rolls over onto his side, grinning, one arm held aloft as if expecting applause for his performance.

          “Like that? Also, I’m not a virgin. That’s… y’know.” He puffs his cheeks. “…Acting. For effect. It’s a tragedy.” Deep breath. “So– The world’s gonna end ‘n’ you’re expectin’ me to help… what? See how long it’ll take me t’ die from radiation poisonin’?”

                     he stops to watch, first with protesting disgust and then, as the act carries on, with some amusement. he feels not unlike he’s attending a theatrical performance but then, he supposes, that’s probably the whole point.

   when nathan sits up, there is admittedly a bemused smile on his face, which five looks down to hide. no, they don’t have time for this. well --- he supposes they do. and he might help himself to a shot of whiskey and talk to nathan about his powers and what exactly needs to be done, but despite his resolve, five’s smiling.

   ❝ right. well, if you’re done with your audition, you can sit down, ❞   he says, letting the amusement go just as quickly as it came. he gets his cup of coffee and one for nathan, sits at the table, and folds his hands.

    she’d been in bed reading since after supper. It was one of the few things she could enjoy when violin practice became to trying for the day, she could rest in a comfy spot and get lost in a book.  

   of course reginald didn’t allow many works of fiction in the house, especially once they became too old for mom to read to them at night. 

    so the few books she did have were mostly biographies of notable scientists throughout history, and maybe the odd shakespearean play or collection of old poetry. things you might find in a classroom rather than the bedroom of an adolescent.  

   she’s so lost in the pages that she doesn’t notice the figure standing in her doorway. It’s Five’s voice that finally grabs her attention. she grins and nods, her page is carefully dog eared before it’s set down on the nightstand.

  “ where to? ”

                        ❝ depends what you’re up for, ❞   he says amicably. he never so much cares where they go or what they do there, if it’s out of the house. he likes the semblance of freedom, even if that’s all it is: a semblance.

   now, he waits in the doorway as she dog-ears her book, and when she smiles at him, five returns it with no hint of venomous sarcasm. aptly reserved for the others; they’re lucky if they get a smile at all except, sometimes, allison or klaus. but vanya seems to be his only real friend among them. he pushes off the door frame and steps back.

        there’s heavy footsteps in luther’s room now as the large man moved around in the small area. his shoulders likely brushing against a space that was made for a guy half his size, disrupting the organized model plane collection. “it’s accurate,” klaus added for emphasis on his point. klaus kicked his bare feet up onto the table in front of the couch and slouched into the uncomfortable antique couch. “it’s all he knows how to be,” his voice croaked. 

                           none of them is well-adjusted enough to escape the emotional draw of a tantrum every now and then. whether it’s five disappearing into a blue rift for fifteen years or klaus going off the deep end with drugs.

@fizve·  //  𝐓𝐔𝐀  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  //  currently  accepting. 

                       how IRONIC it is that the girl with the power of her voice is riddled SPEECHLESS.     but she has every right to be, she’d argue.     trying to COMPREHEND the reappearance of your brother after SO many years apart is one thing, but seeing that COLD lifelessness of a changed man is ANOTHER.     five had been gone for so LONG, the weight of his absence had become even HEAVIER when they lost ben.     their family had been falling APART.     just as the one she had tried to BUILD after leaving the academy, with patrick and CLAIRE.     

perhaps it was her MOTHERLY instinct kicking in, or perhaps it was all those years of GRIEF that she had been FORCED to suppress down that made her suddenly feel WEAK.     how he still looked the same after so many years was BEYOND her, all that mattered was that he was here right NOW.     but gone were the days where they smuggled soda cans to each other underneath the table at dinner time, or shared HUSHED jokes in the hallways on their way to training.     despite looking the same, five HARDLY seemed recognizable to her, a GHOST of the brother she once knew.

“ you’re RIGHT, everything seems incomprehensible right now, but… ”     she trails off slightly, busying herself momentarily by TUCKING in his tie to keep herself from BREAKING down.     “ we’ve ALL done things we’re not proud of, five. ”   –––  the statement left a bitter taste of GUILT in her mouth, but she forced through it  –––   “ but if there’s a CHANCE to do something right, shouldn’t we take it ? ”

                         small hands killed so many, eyes were trained to follow, predatory, and yet he does not know as much as he lets on. are these the same hands which choked the life out of men, or are they fundamentally not?

   five has a bitter taste on his tongue, and he feels something deep inside him. bile in his throat, like he’s about to be sick, but something choking and desperate, too. the terror of losing her ( dolores ) and of losing his family all hits him all at once. a hand, pale and soft, reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closing for a moment.

   ❝ yeah, ❞   he says. he wonders if allison can smell the tequila on his breath.

For once in his life, Klaus relished the silence that rested between the two of them. Ever since he could remember, he’d hated silence. Silence meant that he was alone, that he was vulnerable. If he was quiet enough, he would begin to hear them: the whispers on the other side. But this silence was weighed down by a darkness worse than any ghoul he’d ever encountered. It was heavy and suffocating, and yet, to drown in such a silence still seemed a better fate than scraping up the shattered fragments of his voice to articulate his agony.

For a moment, he’s content with simply existing. Each breath is measured, purposeful, because the simple act of staying alive is a damn near herculean task, but he’ll be damned before he goes out without a fight.

When Five’s voice lassos him back to the moment, he’s quick to frown; not in disbelief, but in confusion. His mind is spins once more, and through the static noise of his garbled thoughts, he hears himself say:

“Yes. Anything. What do you need?” He doesn’t have much, but the thought of seeing Dave again- even just for one second- would be worth everything. 

                      they have to be careful, and the equations have to be perfect. it’s risky, but he’d like to think over all the decades he spent studying and practicing his powers, he has a good enough grasp on them. he has to.

   ❝ you have to understand, ❞   five tells him, though he can sense that klaus doesn’t care.   ❝ you’ll only get to see him for another hour. maybe two. i don’t know how long you waited after his death to come back, but i can only do a jump this big once. if you don’t follow the rules, i’ll have to leave you there. and you can’t save him. his death is important to the entire timeline, now that you’ve gone back. ❞   he stands again.   ❝ do you agree completely? ❞

   there’s a glance back at dolores. one longing gaze; it always feels terrible to leave her behind.

   he holds a hand out to klaus, for him to take. there’s a smile about him. some reassurance, if you can call it that. or maybe it’s for his own sake.   ❝ let’s just pray you were off the radar enough they didn’t retcon the briefcase. ❞

jesse offers a small, hopeful smile — it’s fleeting, though, at the question five asks. of course, he answers anyhow, after wn unsteady deep breath.   “ i’m from albuquerque. uh, in new mexico. ”   he tacks on the clarification as if there’s a relevant albuquerque elsewhere.

his fingers twitch anxiously as he speaks; jesse hasn’t revealed information about himself to new people in quite some time. normally, he wouldn’t go into detail, but details are kind of a key part of this whole interaction.   “ i’ve — done a lot of bad things. things that i seriously regret. i’ve hurt people who didn’t deserve it. ”

this really isn’t sounding great, is it? wincing, jesse calls the bartender over, asks for a glass of … water, with scant enthusiasm to his tone. being clean sucks. after a moment, he looks back to five, taking a deep and trembling breath before he speaks to the young man.

“ i know that doesn’t sound great, but i — i want to make things right, but it’s not the kinda thing i can do on my own. or, like, with the basic laws of time and space, and — stuff. ”   sniffling, he runs a hand down his scarred face.

“ do you think you could help, or, like, WANT to at all? like i said, i got money, and, like — HAD a lot more, so i promise i can pay in one way or another. ”

                         the talk of money couldn’t be less appealing. five has all that he needs. space and time travel isn’t useful only for helping others; he helps himself plenty and sees nothing wrong with doing so. he’s earned it.

   jesse’s explanation earns a click of his tongue. just one; a shrouded response.

   ❝ we’ve all done things we regret. i don’t want your money, and i don’t need anything you can give me. ❞   he says this not as an insult but as a matter-of-fact.   ❝ i’m sure whatever you went through was hard, but time travel has more implications ----- and risks ----- than whatever it is you think you’re going to go back and fix. ❞

   he hasn’t gotten a refill on his drink, even after the bartender gives jesse his water. five takes this as a sign that he has been cut off, and that’s most likely the smartest call to make. pre-teen bodies saturate much too fast.

   ❝ half the time, you go back to fix something, and it doesn’t work. ❞   he takes out his wallet, puts down some bills.  ❝ if you’ve seen final destination, you get the idea. us versus the universe and blah, blah, blah. ❞

   experience tells him that no one really cares for the spiel. they want his power, nothing more. so five stands up.

speaksghost: "Toxic masculinity ruins the party again."

                 five turns to look at klaus with knitted brows. upstairs, the door to luther’s room slams hard enough to resonate down the hall.   ❝ that’s a bit harsh, ❞   he says. passive disapproval. eyebrows lift, his look says oh well and it is what it is.   ❝ but not untrue, i suppose. he is being a little overly dramatic. ❞

murder podcast ask !

jesse cautiously sits beside the young man at the bar. he’s quick to shake his head and immediately put to rest any conversation about five’s sister.   “ no, not at all. i don’t really — don’t know anything about your sister, i promise. i’ve basically been livin’ under a rock, when it comes to news. ”

more literally than metaphorically, considering the hole in the ground he’d slept in for six months. it’s taking a LOT to reintegrate into society and jesse’s struggling with it. scratching at the back of his head, he offers a polite ( if not somewhat anxious ) smile.   “ no, i just — ”   he begins to gesticulate with his hands before the words really come out of him.

“ my name’s jesse. when i was a kid, i was a real fan, and i’ve heard about your abilities and stuff, so … ”   trailing off, jesse glances at the shelf up ahead displaying various alcoholic beverages. too bad he’s sober right now. perhaps opening up and asking for help wouldn’t be so terrifying.

nervous blue eyes return to five.   “ i’ll cut to the chase. i was wondering if you still do that — super power stuff, and if there’s any way i could get your help. doesn’t have to be for free. i got the money for it. i just – i could really, like – REALLY use some help, and i don’t know anyone else to come to.

you can do, like – time stuff, right? ”

                     for the first time since the conversation began, five turns to look at him. something about the way he says that: i don’t know anything about your sister, strikes him as unique.

   quietly and not with much effort, five sizes him up. only now, looking at him, does he take in the growth of facial hair on him and the scars that litter his face. there are other things, too, which five is accustomed to noticing. callouses on his hands. dips under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept well in some months or years. five’s familiar with these symptoms; he’s had them himself.

   ❝ super power stuff, ❞   he repeats, bemused. a scoff of laughter. he doesn’t answer the question, but rather takes a long, stiff drink from his glass. when he sets it down, it’s empty.

   normally, a question about whether he’ll work from a civilian is met with a rehearsed dismissal. even if i went back in time to save your pet cat, to help you propose, to let you see your daughter or save your job or whatever the fuck it is--- but he doesn't give the spiel this time.

          Nathanisn’t sure what he expects. Dying has never been a big concern of his– even beforehe was immortal. Like most young people, he holds the mindset of theuntouchable. Live fast, die never. Bad things happen to other peopleand characters of fiction. Blah, blah, blah. But the little twerp hasa weird, very adult way of commanding obedience that makes Nathanwonder if a single slip up like letting go of his hand might actuallykill him. 

          In the next breath the world around him shifts and he leaves his stomach somewhere back in Wertham. Concrete shimmers away to wood flooring and Nathan’s trainers squeak as he catches himself.

          Holy shit, that’s a monkey.

          Nathan gawks at his new surroundings and watches, amazed, as the chimpanzee–the chimpanzee in clothes–watches back. Stupidly, Nathan points to the animal and looks to the kid as if he can offer some kind of explanation.

          “Yeh, actually. You got alcohol?” he asks, miming tipping a bottle. Something tells him he’s going to want it. “I could do with some vodka ‘n’ a nice, tall refreshin’ glass of what the fuck is goin’ on?”

          “Also–jus’ for the record–I dunno how I feel about bein’ ‘borrowed’ by you ‘n’ Chim-Chim o’er there. I feel a bit kidnapped, really.”

                    ❝ hm, i know what you could use. how about, ❞   five says easily; his tone mirrors that of someone poised to assist and then:   ❝ a nice, big helping of shut the hell up, hm? ❞

   this precedes a snarkish smile. he’s just not in the mood for childishness, that’s all. and what it really comes down to is that he has a lot to explain, and it’s going to take longer than crossing the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, so he’s marinating in it. he’d like nathan to do the same.

   ❝ have a seat. get cozy. ❞   he gestures to the kitchen table with one welcoming hand, then he turns back to the counter and inspects the coffee.   ❝ we do have alcohol, but i won’t be giving you any. i’m guessing you take your coffee with sugar and cream. ❞   and he pours a second cup before waiting for confirmation. he’s glad the time jump didn’t take long. the pot’s still warm.

   when he’s finally sitting across from nathan, some weight seems to go from him. he slouches back a little, not so rigid as before, and for the first time since their meeting, looks like a child.

   ❝ okay, ❞   he says with a little more warmth. five glances around. pogo’s gone somewhere.

   ❝ first, you probably want to know who i am and where you are. this is the umbrella academy. you might have heard of us, or --- actually, yes. we’d be about your age in your timeline. huh. ❞   there’s a facetious smirk.   ❝ anyway, to cut to the chase, the world is ending unless you stop it by being the last survivor of the apocalypse and gathering intel for me. it’s a very simple task. ❞

it’s abundantly clear that jesse is far from home; he might even appear lost if not for his intent sense of direction and the fact that he’s very set on who he wants to meet. he’s come here, so far from new mexico, not only to get away from a home filled with so many bitter memories, but to seek out someone who he’s heard a LOT about. a kid who seemed to transcend time — literally, given the history he had with the umbrella academy.

maybe it’s a shot in the dark; maybe nothing will happen, but at the very least, jease must TRY.

& so he seeks him out, eventually finding him in a bar around the city. he’s – well, a kid, which is kind of to be expected, but it’s still kind of weird, to see someone so young drinking at a bar. not that it’s jesse’s first priority or something he takes note of for much longer than a second; his true interest is in getting help.

if only approaching people was easier, in this damaged state he’s in. jesse’s greeting is quieter than intended. covered in scars and carrying the burden of six months of trauma ( or two years, if he lumps it all together ) jesse feels smaller than he once was before.

“ hey, um — you’re five, right? i was wondering if i could, uh, ask you something. you mind if i sit here for a bit? ”

@fizve

                   you have no idea how hard it is to get a good shot of whiskey around here, he’d told the bartender his first night in this bar. that had been almost two months ago, give or take.

   he doesn’t have an id card ( why would he need one? ), but he has a smooth tongue, and he plays up his intelligence with the insistence that his traumatic age-regressing disease and the money he intends to pay with are both real enough. this is the only bar that regularly buys it.

   so he’s sitting with short legs swinging idly off of a bar stool he’s not tall enough to reach the floor from. he doesn’t look up when jesse enters, but watches his reflection in the mirror over the bar. alert as always; the commission never sleeps. but this guy isn’t part of the commission ( or else he’s severely breaking protocol ), five sees. he looks at the margarita in front of him.

   god, he misses dolores. she’d have liked this bar. five’s brow furrows. it’s been a long time since anyone recognized him who wasn’t actively trying to end his life, so that’s new.

             another day, another mission. one which vanya was carefully left out of, the sound of violin strings drawing silent as alarm sounded and the rest of them got suited up. it went well.

   though it is not lost on him, the unfairness of her situation. the way they bond over saving each other in these dire situations, the smiles exchanged and the sense of accomplishment. the way glances are shot her way when they come in if they see her, but it’s not the same.

   ❝ hey, ❞   five’s voice carries to her as he appears in the doorway of her room. it’s late now and lights out is ten o’clock. it’s already past nine. his knuckles dance over her door frame.

   after a pause, deliberation, he looks up and smiles.   ❝ feel up to an adventure? ❞

Sixteen years, nearly seventeen, and Five’s room had been left alone. Save for Grace’s cleaning so that cobwebs couldn’t form nor could dust settle. Everything was left virtually alone, save for those moments and she wears a cheery smile as she stands by the door frame, awaiting permission to enter. 

There’s a steady clack of her heels on the flooring, an even measured gait that had no hesitation, the whirring of gears and fans were so quiet that the layers of insulation and rubber blocked them out and she came to stand beside Five. 

He was looking for something? 

❝What are you looking for, dear?❞ She asked as she crouches down to help but, keeps her hands back. Despite her programming telling her to help, she knew her son. Five was always independent and often refused assistance.

❝Perhaps we can look together?❞

                   five does not take help very often, she’s right. however, he thinks, it’s possible that she saw something. could be that the old man even asked her to get it and bring it to him.

   if he did, her memory banks will have held that information flawlessly. five turns to her.

  ❝ my notebook, ❞   he says. his voice is quiet and exasperated, every bit playing up that he is only a confused thirteen year old boy looking for something dear to him. grace does not need to know what’s in the notebook. how important it is.   ❝ see, i kept it in this drawer. right here. ❞