#dark five

Sometimes he would come across old memories and dive into them. Oh, how beautiful you were. How you smiled and how you laughed and how you were always so kind. To him and to everyone. 

His beautiful, beautiful girl. An angel among demons that crawled beneath her feet–he was a demon that would crawl beneath her feet anyway. A devil cast to the deepest pits of hell searching for that which could bring him salvation, if only for a moment.

Five Hargreeves wanted nothing more than to hold you to his chest, to tuck you into his arms safe and sound and never let you out again. Because his arms were where you belonged–where you still do belong. They were wide open for the ghost of you, gates to a rotting manor that only welcomed its original owner.

You could rip his heart from his chest and he would forgive you in a heartbeat. 

The door creaked open and he quickly locked it behind him. The only other person with a key was Herb, and he wouldn’t dare disturb the owner of the Commission in his incredibly important research.

Even if that research wasn’t important to the company, per se. It was important to him. And if it was important to him then surely the world would fall apart if it wasn’t completed.

I would tear it apart if I couldn’t reach this at the very least, he thought, sitting down in the very same chair he did every day, flipping on the switch that reintroduced him to his sins, to what he needed to do.

Your smiling face greeted him, and for a second–just as always–he smiled back. He turned a dial beneath his right finger, looking back to the dreaded day he lost you. 

November 22, 1963 was a day to behold, that was for sure. It was brighter than usual, not one cloud lingering in the sky and the sun blared down upon the mild Texas landscape.

His gun was aimed for where the president would ride by as you sat beside him, picking at the grass.

“Be careful, Sweetheart,” he said, and you looked up at him for a moment, eyes void. “You’ll ruin your sundress.”

“I think the sundress is the least of our worries today, Five.”

He sighed. “You’re not wrong.”

Five minutes later amidst the chaos that was taking place on the other side of the fence, he took your hand and brought it to his lips before diving through the hole he had ripped in the time-space continuum. 

And then you were gone, stolen from him by the cruel fingers of time.

Five jumped when a knock on the door sounded, his fingers flying to the knife he had stuffed in his pocket at all times.

“Mr. Hargreeves?” Herb called. “Sir?”

Five sighed, dropping his knife before gliding the chair over to the door, unlocking it. “Come in, Herb.”

Herb stepped in through the door before staring at the mess that had become the Infinite Switchboard. Papers were scattered everywhere–some with half-drawn faces, others with numbers and symbols he could only begin to understand. And then there was Five; clean shaven as always, but his eyes held something either dead or dangerously alive.

Either way, he knew there was nothing but trouble to be had with Five Hargreeves.

Nothing but trouble.

“Mr. Hargreeves,” Herb said, watching Five return to his pages, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing, Herb.”

Herb’s eyes flicked to the screen, to you. You in the yellow sundress. You who had cried in Dot’s arms one too many times to count.

You who had successfully escaped Five Hargreeves and fallen into a new hell.

“Trying to find her, Sir?” Herb said with a chuckle.

Five’s jaw ticked before he turned to the smaller man. “You have something to say, Herb? Something funny?”

“Nothing at all, Sir.” He shrugged, before taking a shaky step away from the man. “Just that you’ve been looking so hard and her files have been with us all along.”

Five’s heart jumped. He dove for Herb, taking him by the lapel of his jacket and pulling him up to eye level. 

“Herb,” he said sweetly. “Old friend. Tell me where the fuck those files are.”

Herb gulped. “We have them all. We watch them on Friday nights. They’re quite entertaining–I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I want them. I want them all–and whenever a new one comes in, I want that too. I’ll decide if they’re entertaining or not.”

“Of course,” Herb whispered before being thrown to the ground, scampering out of the room as soon as he could.

Herb turned toward the door, listening as Five sat down before he turned around one more time, staring at the helpless fool who would undoubtedly fall into a pit of despair just as some of the others had–-those who had known Five’s wife, one whom was not held dearly enough, one who was cast to the side, one whom they all pitied at some point or another.

“Just–” Herb looked to the floor “--be careful, will you? Some of this is tough to watch.”

Five laughed. “How hard can it be?”

Herb pursed his lips, but nodded, laughing nervously as he walked out the door. “Have a good one, Mr. Hargreeves.”

“Yeah,” Five said, sliding the tape into the switchboard, “you too, Herb.”

~*~

The first thing he saw was a child erupt from a blue portal–one that was unmistakably his. You were a cute kid, he noted, your age being about six.

But whatever admiration he held for your chubby cheeks and wide eyes was halted by the pool of blood forming a halo around your head, a rock beside you.

He watched first as you were dragged off of the ground and taken to the hospital. He watched with baited breath as the doctors stitched you up and put you into surgery, he watched as you woke up and bit his tongue as you howled with pain so then he could share in it with you, show you that–in his own way–he was still there, that he loved you, that you were loved, that he wanted you to be home with him so he could hold you in his arms instead of watching a child version of you go through something so terrible.

Something that was very clearly his own damn fault, but he elected to ignore that.

And suddenly, a light poked through the tunnel. Two kind people–people that would take care of you for him–poured through the door of the orphanage you were held in, beaten and bruised.

And they did. He held his tongue and watched with adoring eyes as you got yourself into loads of trouble—his little angel always was a troublemaker. He watched you climb trees and scrape your palms while riding a bike. He watched as you slipped away into the night to take walks and try to allow the sea to swallow you whole.

You always were quite charming.

To his disappointment , however, there was one catch. A boy. A disgusting little boy. Tall with golden curls that framed his face and dimples that carved into his cheeks. He noted that you quite enjoyed making him smile.

You would curl into him—Peter, his name was. You would curl into Peter. Not him. Never him.

A mixture of emotions overcame him at that moment. When Peter tucked you into his side and pressed his lips to the top of your head, cold rage flowed through his veins. When he had the gall to hold your hand and guide you through your everyday life—to pull you into some stupid adventures that all children go on—Five could have sworn he’d never felt more murderous than in that moment.

And then it happened.

He thought he’d never be thankful for your parents dying. But he was. By God, he was. It meant that you were swept away from that boy, away from the threat. It would be far better to have no threats to him, to be able to woo you in the proper way.

Five imagined you both. As soon as he calculated his equations correctly, he’d rush to you. He wouldn’t want to scare you, though—of course he’d never wish to scare you, never again. He would “bump into you” one day when you were out and about.

You would be in a sundress—a yellow one. You had always looked absolutely darling in yellow. Or pink. You were a doll in pink.

It didn’t matter what you wore to Five. All that mattered was that from that day he would court you as he should’ve done the first time around. He would go to your house and meet your parents with two bouquets—one for you and one for your mother. He would talk to your father about sports and politics while you were reading one of those romance novels you so adored.

And he would gain your father’s enthusiastic blessing to take you, his darling little princess, on a date. He would take you to an Italian restaurant. One that would impress you, but nothing too fancy. He would never want to make you shy. He would pull out his card first and pay for both of your meals. He would order you a slice of cake to take home afterward before taking you to a nearby creamery and getting you your favorite flavor of ice cream.

And then he’d ask you what you were reading earlier. You would tell him about it and he would listen with the arter of a devotee on a Goddess’ altar—because that is nothing less than what you are—and then he would gently sweep a stray hair behind your ear before pulling you in and pressing a sweet kiss upon your lips.

He’d drive you home. He’d play Elvis—only his sweet songs—and place his hand over yours oh-so-lightly. And then before you left his car, he’d peck your cheek and tell you that he was picking you up the very next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

And that would be how life was for you. He would take care of everything, he knew. He already was. He was so close yet so far to having you. He was trying a million ways to get to you—a million failed attempts to have you in his arms again. 

But none of those attempts would be worth it if you had fallen into the arms of another man. No matter how innocent it seemed.

A man was a man. A boy was a boy. And you would not be going near either of them if he could help it.

He watched as you were carted away by the proper authorities and he sighed. 

The candle Allison had placed next to him as a comfort emitted the smell of fresh peaches and suddenly he yearned for spring again. The season where you were happiest prancing around fields and plucking flowers from their place tucked into the earth. Even in your old age you were spry, zipping through meadows whenever you could.

Of course he wouldn’t join you without a price, but you paid it all the same and were glad when he made his appearance next to you. It wasn’t as if you two were near each other all that often, anyway.

More often than not, tears stained your cheeks and his face was flushed red with anger and everything and nothing all at once.

He hated you. You loved him. 

Only when he saw the sea of red leak from your side–all for him–did he realize that maybe you were not one to be hated. You were too kind for that, too much like the flowers that you adored so much.

And so as you grew colder, realizing the monster he was, he touched you more. Held your hand. Whispered in your ear at night. 

He was planning to kiss you upon your landing in 2019. When he brought his hands to his face–no longer wrinkled and calloused with wisdom and long days of labor–he realized that they were meant for yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, ignoring the faces of his siblings to search for yours. His brows furrowed as panic grasped at his chest. “I–”

He whirled around, his eyes scanning for something. Anything. A body, a heap, a pile of bones. Something.

He took Klaus by the lapel of his jacket. “I had a girl with me. She–did you see a girl? Any of you. Did you see a girl fall through with me?”

His siblings looked at one another, and he had his answer.

So there he sat before the same page that got you two into this mess. Over and over in the margins of the lined mass of numbers he would scratch the line of your jaw into the paper, a gentle swoop but one that reminded him of better days all the same.

The world was safe enough, he decided as he stood up on shaking legs, stuffing his gun deep into his jacket pocket. 

He stared at the lines he drew before taking an empty notebook and putting it in a satchel along with the few bottles spared in the late Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ liquor cabinet before he stared into the abyss.

“Honey,” he called out sweetly, looking through the rooms of the academy. “It’s a little too late to play hide and seek.”

That and you should know he’d always find you. Always. 

He began to search more frantically with that thought in his mind.

“Come on out now, darling,” he said. “I’m done.”

You didn’t come out.

And that was when he knew: you’d left.

~*~

He didn’t want to time travel.

No, then you wouldn’t learn the truth. He wouldn’t take the lazy way out, and he’d find you. He’d bring you home, and you’d be warm in your own bed. 

Tomorrow, you would talk.

~*~

You were panting. Crawling out of a window is a hell of a lot harder than they make it seem. You had changed your clothes, your location.

You didn’t have enough time to do everything else; but the first stop tomorrow was to a hairdresser and to get colored contacts. You couldn’t afford to be caught by the murderer that insisted upon coddling you.

“And how may I help you this evening?” the front desk asked. The motel was cheap, and there was likely more than one murder there, but it was the best you could do for now. And you’d take it. 

“One room please.”

“Just for the night.”

“Just one night.”

“Got it.”

~*~

You had to organize, and get yourself together quickly. You were still in the comfortable pajamas Five had picked out that morning; you still smelled like the shampoo he had bought for you.

You wanted control. The only way to get it was to leave; not that you wanted to be there in the first place. He’d kept you there, more and more over time. He’d kept you there with sweet words and locked doors, insisting he would take care of everything.

You were a big kid. You didn’t want to be a little doll; you just wanted to be yourself. And if that meant swearing off love or being on the run for the rest of your life to keep away from the killer that called himself your boyfriend, so be it.

Scrolling on your phone, you found a good salon, and made the arrangements for the next day.

You were leaving town.

~*~

He had no problem finding you, especially when he had Diego run the plate of the stolen car. You really didn’t think it through, did you?

He found comfort in that. Who knows what would’ve happened if you had made it a step further?

“Hi,” he greeted the front desk. “There’s been an emergency on the second floor- a lot of, well..you’ll find out.”

The woman’s eyes widened. He knew there was no one else running the place tonight. 

He flipped through the book containing the rooms and the names. He couldn’t find yours. He smiled to himself; smart, he thought. 

He’d just have to do a more in-depth search of the hotel.

~*~

You sat up just after your eyes opened. You needed to move as soon as possible.

But before you could even climb out of bed, a light flicked on in the corner.

Shit, you thought.

His legs were crossed, hands folding in his lap. His face did not hold any sort of expression; that wasn’t good.

You two just looked at one another for what could’ve been a solid ten minutes.

You thought about your options: 

1) You could make a run for it; but that wouldn’t work. With his powers and the fact that he already found you, it wasn’t highly likely that you’d get away.

2)You could reason with him; but that wouldn’t work because he was Five and you kind of just abandoned him in the middle of the night.

3)You could wait for him to say something and hope that he would just leave you alone.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, eyebrow cocked. 

“Uhm… no, not really.”

“You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you?” 

Your eyes closed as your hand rubbed down the length of your face. You didn’t want to look at him, at the adoring but disappointed look in his eyes.

You were more afraid of the adoration than the disappointment. 

You had no idea what he was going to do to you, but you knew that you had no choice but to go with him. 

So. you nodded, still not looking him in the eye. But you could see him move from your peripheral vision, see him move toward your suitcase and pack up the few belongings you removed from it. 

You could see him move toward you and you could feel him place a hand on the side of your head, pressing his lips to your head. “You know I love you. That’s why I’m doing this.”

~*~

“You need to go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, testing the bonds on your wrists. You wouldn’t be leaving the bedroom, let alone the bed, for a few days. There wasn’t much else you could do, you thought. “I know last night was probably stressful.”

You just nodded, knowing any arguing would be futile.

“When you’re let out,” he said, absentminded, turning off the light, “you and I can go on a vacation. How does that sound?”

Your face must’ve lit up a little too much because his darkened slightly. 

It took a second, and he seemed to be fighting with himself. “I’m not letting you out of my line of sight again. I’m letting this one slide.” He enunciated the phrase by tightening the bonds. “I’m letting it slide because I know you’re getting tired of the house. But you’re not leaving me; you’re not leaving until death takes you from me, and even then, I wouldn’t let that happen. What else is time travel for?”

That made you want to throw up.

The bed had become your best friend; it was right up against the far wall, allowing you to survey the entire room at all times. It allowed you to see when he came inside, when he left, where he was, if he was near to you. It was in this bed that you had first told him you loved him, and it was in this bed when you first asked him for death.

At this time, only one of those statements remained relevant. You could not bear to see him smile at you for one more day, wake up curled in his arms like a small child for another morning, and you could not watch him try to make you forget about what had occurred only a few months ago.

You curled further against the wall when you heard footsteps down the hall.

~*~

He could still hear the recording playing in his mind, and laced with it, creating a symphony of misery within his heart complete with the screeching of violins and his own, hidden sobs, was your words when you had woken up

I want your mercy. Stop playing nice and end it. Just do it. I’m a liar. I’m a bitch. I’m a monster. Just take the final shot. Don’t draw it out; I’m done with the shit.

His girl–his sweet, sweet girl who had never betrayed him in the first place, who had never committed a sin in her little life. Long before, he had vowed to protect her from the monsters that lurked about. And then he became one–he became the very monster he feared would harm her. He remembered the bruises littering innocent skin, forcing guilt unto someone who did not deserve an ounce of pain. He remembered the women he would bring into his bed; he remembered how often he whispered your name instead of theirs and how hard he would try to make sure they looked like you, or at least bore some similarity to you. When you were his. When you were you.

He walked up the stairs, new bandages in his hand along with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Whenever you left, you would rumble about, accidentally dropping vases when you heard him creep up behind you, accidentally cutting your hand when you saw him standing in the doorway. He’d been more careful to announce his presence around you, walking on eggshells so he could not scare you any more. 

As he approached the heavy wooden door, he took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the request you never ceased to make every time he crossed your path, every morning, and every night in bed. Sometimes he wished you would leave the bed more often, but he would never want to make you feel more unsafe than you were. 

He knocked on the door, putting a smile on his face before opening it. “Hello, darling,” he whispered, walking around the side of the bed he shared with you. He burned the sheets that he used for the past year, replacing them with softer, lighter ones more suitable for you. And not dirtied by what he had done. There were still bloodstains left around the manor; you didn’t need any more reminders. “How was your nap?”

Your eyes followed him like a hawk would its prey. “Fine,” you whispered, lifting your hands to him so he could move more quickly. The less his hands were on you, the happier you would remain. You knew it, and he did too, though sometimes he still insisted upon you crawling into his arms, a frail creature in his eyes. “Have you given thought to what I’ve asked?”

“No.” His voice was cold, matter-of-fact, but when he saw you wince at the feeling of the bandages being removed from your scratched-up palm, his eyes grew softer as did his voice. His hand came below your jaw, his eyes not daring to rake over the bones that protruded from your body from the months of his torture. His lips brushed over your forehead; he did his best to ignore your flinching. “I’ve told you, sweetheart. Many times.” He tilted your chin. “I’m going to take care of you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I beg to differ, sir–”

“Five. Five, please. Call me anything but that, baby. Please.” Is this what he had resorted to? It almost made you laugh. The great Five Hargreeves, begging.

He deserved it, just as you deserved to have your request fulfilled. Not because you deserved it, but because releasing you from your pain was the least he could do.

“You can’t do that. If you won’t let me die, then let me live. I just don’t want to look at you. So please, please let me go. Please.”

He closed his eyes. You didn’t even notice that he had finished up with your hand before he brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to it. 

“You know I can’t do that, baby. I won’t say I’m sorry for saying no. Because I’m not. But I can promise you that eventually, those months will be gone. They’ll be gone forever. I swear.”

~*~

Allison did not expect her brother to knock on her door. Nor did she expect him to look so disheveled in his suit, dark circles gathering under his eyes. Her wife was in the dining room, handcuffs wrapped around her wrist. She was almost afraid of Five finding her.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, a few tears falling from his eyes. And suddenly Allison didn’t care if Five knew. All she cared about was taking care of her brother.

~*~

Allison Hargreeves had not crossed the threshold of the manor for some time. She wrung her hands together as she walked up to Five’s bedroom, crossing over into the next room for a larger space. Inside, she found a girl, frail and suspicious scanning her up and down before she paled some.

Turning to Five, his love shouted, “No. No, Five you can’t do this to me! Please! I swear, I’ll stop asking! Just promise me that you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to do!”

“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms, nodding at Allison as he restrained you. “I’m going to take care of you. Such good care of you, and you won’t be in pain anymore. Never again. Nothing will touch you again. Okay? Take a deep breath for me, Sweetheart.”

You writhed in his grip. “No. No.”

Allison took a deep breath, thinking of how happy her brother would be, and praying for that same happiness herself. “I heard a rumor that you forgot about what he did, and that you’re going to be calm and allow him to care for you exactly how he wants.”

~*~

The birds chirped outside of your window. A smile curled around your face as you looked upward at your boyfriend. You shook him slightly, smiling wider at the little groan he let out before he looked down at you, adoration shining through.

“Good morning, pretty girl. How did you sleep?”

“It was alright,” you chirped. “But I had the strangest dream.”

Something foreign flashed across his face, but he pushed your hair from your face and brushed his lips across it. “Oh really? Tell me what it was about.”

“Oh, nothing. Just a few blinking lights. It hurt a lot, but it’s fine.” You began to laugh. “None of it was real, anyway.”

The plane fare was getting expensive, but following you was worth it, especially now that he’d actually found you.

He leaned back in his seat, listening to your whisper. He’d missed it. He’d missed everything, really. And he took comfort in knowing he’d get it back in a matter of a few hours. He’d let you have your fun for a little while longer; but not too long, he’d seen exactly how you'd been taking care of yourself.

It just goes to show exactly how much you needed him there.

“Anything to drink?” the attendant asked. He just shook his head, eyes ahead of him.

~*~

There was a letter nailed to your door.

It went something like this:

Meet me at the airport at 8, or I’m dragging you there.

You didn’t know who it was from; you didn’t know where  it was from. You and your dealer had become rather close; it could be a prank. 

Your gut told you otherwise. Grabbing the ax from the wall and locking the doors, you lodged yourself in the corner of the cabin, watching and waiting for whoever was supposedly going to show up.

~*~

This was the third day there was a note left on your door; the dealer said it wasn’t her, and there was barely anyone else in the area.

“Okay,” she said. “You need to go. Right now.”

“Got it; what time do you need me to be at the airport.”

“Well now would be a pretty decent time before that person drags your ass to…wherever.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, massaging your temple. “That would be a good idea. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

~*~

Yet another plane; yet another ride where you stare at people who have much more freedom than you do. A couple nuzzling together, a child leaning on her mother’s arm.

Then there was you; trapped and scared.

“Anything to drink?” the attendant asked.

Before you could answer, another voice cut in. “She’ll have a coke. Your blood sugar has to be a little low after all that running, huh, darling?”

“Uh, yeah,” you whispered. 

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Oh, were you two seperated?” the stewardess asked. She had a pitying look on her face, but then looked pointedly at the open seat next to you. “There’s a seat right here, sir, would you like to sit together?”

You couldn’t exactly say no.

But he answered that for you, moving up to the aisle seat next to you.

“You two look so cute together,” she fawned. “I remember when I was young and in love. I’ll grab that coke for you, sweetheart.”

After giving her a smile, you looked straight ahead, lips pursed.

There was silence between you two. You could hear everything; there was quiet chatter on the plane. No one knew your plight.

“Here’s what’s going to happen next, darling,” Five said, voice steady, commanding. “You’re going to enjoy the rest of this plane ride, and then we’re going to go home. I know you haven’t slept properly for about three days, so we’re going to do that and then we’ll discuss the shit you just pulled.”

The stewardess came back with the coke right then, giving you one last grin. “I hope you enjoyed your trip!”

“I’m sure they did,” Five grinned. “But it’s over now.”

“Aw,” she pouted. “All good things come to an end.”

“Unfortunately,” you whispered.

Five gave your thigh a light pat, but left his hand there.

The stewardess left once more.

“Drink up, honey.”

“I don’t really want to.”

“That’s too bad. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to go home either, so I suppose this is a day for doing things that are best for us that we don’t particularly wish to complete.”