n5 | [Open post | The End of Something ]

[Open post | The End of Something ]

What: Things are fine until they're not.
Where: Umbrella Academy House.
When: S2, episode 10.
Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, murder, trauma and PTSD.
Who: Five + your muse

☂☂☂

"Herb, we need a favor. A briefcase. Get back home, where we belong."

"Take your pick."

And like that, it's all over.

Almost over, they still need to go back to their time but things had slowed down from a mad rush against the clock to cleaning the mess of bodies left behind and saying goodbyes. The Handler is dead, the last of the Swedes gone, and the Temps Commission is no longer breathing down their necks. From all the possible outcomes it's one of the best.

So Five can't understand why he finds it's so hard to breathe.

The rest of his family is waiting inside of what's left of Sissy's house, talking or recovering, he imagines. He's at the barn, staring at the red stain on the ground left behind by the Handler's body, now gone, retrieved by the Commission. The sun is setting, there's an eerie kind of light inside, filtering through the many bullet holes on the wood walls, melting what's left of the snow.

There had been more bodies, more blood splattered, his whole family gone for the third time. They don't know, can't remember, but Five's not granted that mercy. It was pure luck that he was still alive after the Handler gunned them down, his chest and stomach burning, lying in a pool of his own blood but still alive, alive, alive, alive...it gave them a chance Five didn't even know if it would work at all. Back then, surrounded by the still-warm corpses of his siblings, it felt like the universe was laughing at him.

Seeing them get killed again was one time too many.

He couldn't get the image out of his head when the nuclear blast killed them seven days ago and he can't get it out of his head now. The snow feels cold against his knees when he falls to the ground, hands gripping at his head, pulling at his hair, eyes closed shut and gritted teeth. As if that would stop the ringing sounds of bullets and screams in his mind.

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Klaus had sought out a little solace inside Sissy's after things started to settle. He just needed... a minute to process. To breathe. Everything happened so fast these last few days, and it's just... hard to not be on a high-key press for time, suddenly. He can hear the others murmuring in the living room softly. Devising plans, whatever. He wanders into the room just to stand in the vicinity of his sisters and brothers because after something like that, he just needs to be around them.

Except...

One of them is missing.

Where did Five go? He frowns, distractedly pats Vanya's hand and mumbles something about being back in a minute as he wanders off and through the back door. "Five?" he calls out into the big, open space of the farm, staring out at the destruction they'd caused. They always did, didn't they? They could never get it right and clean, that was asking too much. He wonders how much all of this will cost Sissy, especially now that she's a woman on her own with a child. And in the 60's to boot....

He shakes his head to dispel the thoughts from his head. That's not really something he can let himself worry about right now. "Five!" He calls out again, the lack of answer doesn't settle well on his shoulders. He finds his way back to the bullet-riddled barn to find his little-big-brother falls to his knees on the ground.

"Five-- hey, heyheyheyhey," He darts over to him instantly, scrambling and immediately dropping down his knees next to his brother, one hand on Five's shoulder, his body half shielded over his brother. "Breathe, okay? Just- breathe..." He doesn't know that Five is having a panic attack, but it seems solid advice either way, if he's completely honest.

The calling and the sound of someone else approaching don't register, and once everything is over Five will chastise himself for his lack of caution. An enemy could have sneaked up on him easily, it was pure luck it was one of his brothers. Although, at the moment, this is the worst possible thing to happen.

Any other day Five's immediate reaction would have been a snarl, to quickly and categorically tell Klaus to Fuck off and let him alone. To not touch him. He didn't like it and he was cursed, being around him in any way meant a death sentence. Five had brought the Handler and the Commission's wrath upon them, it was because of him that she got so involved and vengeful.

Any other day Five wasn't like he was drowning and only seeing the ground stained red and scattered bodies with startled empty eyes gazing into nothing. He flinches at the touch to his shoulder and when he tries to growl at Klaus to shut up, it's a whimper that comes out. God, he's pathetic. His head is swimming and his chest is heaving as he struggles to control his breathing.

"G...gh...Go a-way." It takes far too much effort to say the words and it's such a simple sentence. It isn’t dramatic or carrying Fivie's usual brand of viciousness that flares up when he's acting angry because he's really hurt of scared. It's raw and broken and he hates himself for it.

"No," he bites back, but there's a fondness to it somehow. He knows that Five is basically like a fereal cat, and that just ramps up to twenty-billion if he feels like he's being too vulnerable in any way, but Klaus doesn't care. Most people might let the cat go when it tried to bite them, but Klaus is the idiot that just keeps trying to comfort it.

That is to say, he tugs Five with him, sitting on the hay-filled ground of the barn, pulling his against his chest and settling both arms around his much smaller frame. He knows it's an annoyance to the old man, but right now that doesn't matter; the teenage-shaped body his brother is stuck in makes it easier for him to maneuver him. "You're stuck with me." He slides one hand over his brother's spine in a slow, smooth motion.

Klaus won't kid himself into assuming he'll just stay like this, but even if the irritation of the whole thing breaks him out of the panic, it'll be good. Because these things tend to spiral massively if you get too stuck in whatever's landed you there in the first place. And if he doesn't jerk out of his grip? It will only prove to him Five needs this more than he could ever allow himself to admit. Either way, Klaus just wants to help his brother, and why not? He's had plenty of these moments in his life.... he's got experience, may as well put it to use.

The fact that Five hasn't slept in more than two weeks, unless he was passed out drunk or passed out due to blood loss, isn't exactly helping him now. In fact, it's very much one of the factors why his is body crashing so quickly and so unexpectedly now that the constant stress in his life has lessened. The Let-Down Effect is in full force and it's a bitch.

The fondness in Klaus's voice registers, as well as the knowing fact that this is one of those times in which his brother isn't willing to give. Five anger flares but Klaus' words also bring a deep feeling of relief that comes to out of nowhere and punches him in the stomach. He tries to spatial jump away from his brother's arms, but he's too drained to power up and Five settles for struggling against the man's chest.

"Idiot!" Five grabs at the front of Klaus' clothes, long fingers curling tightly against black clothes. It makes clear that Five's brain and his body are still in disagreement because he's holding onto Klaus rather than pushing him away while still attempting to scare off the man. "Y-you're going yourself killed a second time today."

It's all Five manages to say at the end, voice choking at the last moment. He feels his throat close again, so it's an impressive feat that he managed to string so many words together in one go. But Klaus doesn't let go or run for the hills as he should, and Five is well aware that his usually menacing demeanor is failing him miserably now. He would like to think that he's shaking inn anger but not even he can lie to himself that much. His knuckles are white from holding onto the vest his brother is wearing without a shirt. Who even does that?

Klaus, that is.

Klaus, who smiles at people mocking him and calling him names as if he knows that the secret to life is just not caring. Klaus, who was the first to follow Vanya into the car because unlike the rest of his siblings, he has some degree of emotional intelligence. Klaus, his stupid brother, that comes to comfort him when he should know better.

Five's head drops forward and he rests it against Klaus's chest, sniffling.

Even feral cats fall apart.

He isn't surprised that Five tries to jump away from the situation, to isolate himself somewhere else on the farm, and pretend he doesn't need this. Klaus knows better, and a part of him is glad he's too worn down to escape. He really thinks this is probably an incredibly, unfathomably long time coming, by now.

He blinks in surprise when Five grabs at his clothes, head leaning back just a little, but otherwise he stays put. Let's his older brother scream at him, like it doesn't matter. (It does. But he can deal with it. He can deal with a lot.) He frowns at that comment, though, because it definitely doesn't make any sense. "Five, what're you talking about? I didn't die today." He wouldn't be here to be yelled at, if he had.

When Five finally gives in-- gives up?-- Klaus feels a little bit of pressure release from the center of his chest. He doesn't even say anything, because he doesn't know what to say. Instead, he just wraps himself more securely around the impossibly small form of his brother's body, squeezing with a pressure that's neither too soft or too tight, his eyes closing as he rests his cheek against the top of Five's head.

Edited 2020-08-07 13:09 (UTC)

Honestly, if Five had any capacity to go anywhere, he would find himself the deepest hole to hide and don't leave it until the next century. He's gone through a lot in his awfu life but the last two weeks really tested his sanity

Five furrows his eyebrows, frustrating at himself after that slip-up. No wonder Klaus is confused, he sounds like a lunatic. He squirms in his brother's arms one last time, as if he's trying to get away from the extra pressure but not trying too hard. After a moment, It dawns on him that this is a hug. Five honest to god can't remember the last time such thing had happened.

Oh, there had been plenty of people touching him in the past. To kill him or to wrestle him off, and of course the ever-presence of the Handler. She was always getting into his personal space, red lips framing a sharp smile, with an even sharper mind. Commenting on his clothes, and how adorable he looked now, constantly touching him in some fashion. All that Five had accepted with frustrated resignation because it was the fastest way to get things moving with the woman but it made him feel sick every time.

It's different coming from Klaus, like it's different with Vanya. Easier, more natural, without veiled threats or the promise of explicit violence if he doesn't cooperate. It's comfortable. Nice.

Five doesn't understand nice.

So he focus on what he can do, and that is explaining himself.

"You don't remember, neither do the others. I managed to rewind time a few minutes, that's why. The Handler showed up when Diego was talking to Lila...too fast, too ruthless. Gunned us all down in a second. Well, not all."

He was still alive, if not for long. One of Five's hand lets go of Klaus's vest to curl on the front of his own sweater, pressing over his stomach, trying to forget the memory of the bullets that pierced it only an hour ago. He's still shaking and his voice sounds like gravel. Rough and pained, as if each word leaves a bitter taste in his tongue.

"You were all dead. Again."

He eases up a little in the hug at the protesting squirms, but he doesn't let go. That's the important part. He isn't leaving, and he isn't letting Five run away from this, either. Sure, if they're out here long enough, he'll get enough strength back to blink away from the whole thing, but until then, Klaus isn't going anywhere.

He also does something else that he doesn't do a lot of: He listens as Five explains what he meant. Explains the missing piece of the puzzle Klaus doesn't have, because for him, it didn't happen. "Holy shit," he mutters quietly, voice a little shell-shocked. "Wai-- Five, duh- does that mean that you...you've seen all of us dead three fucking times?" That realization has him wrapping Five up again, despite whatever protests may come for it a second time. "Jesus, man... how do you do it?"

It probably shows how drained Five feels that when Klaus does give him some more room to move so he doesn't feel so trapped, he stops making any further attempts to leave the man's lap. It's ridiculous, he's a grown-up man and he hates being talked down and looked as if he's a child.

Despite all the inappropriate jokes and the tendency to act like a child himself, Klaus is one of the few who actually treats him as an equal when it matters. Five needs to give him so credit, the man is also stubborn. He could have just made his life easier by ignoring Five's breakdown and yet here he is, trying to understand.

Five's fringe is matted to his forehead in sweat, and he’s still shaking like a leaf, but his breathing is less shallow than before. Before he can spit out an angry Yes, I fucking sure did, Klaus holds on him gets tight and he can only let out a small yelp at the extra hug. He wishes he could disappear again to never be seen again. To never had to face the indignity of Klaus seeing him fall apart and being so gentle and understanding about it.

He opens his mouth to protest, to explain that it wasn't as if he had much of a choice in the matter when it came to dealing with his sibling's deaths but instead a harsh cry wrack through his small body. And then Five does something he hasn't done in decades. He didn't think he had it on him anymore.

Then, he starts crying.

Blue eyes stare at the ceiling as Five tries to keep the salty tears from pooling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks. He tries so hard but looking up is a mistake. Looking up makes him notice again how the whole barn is covered in bullet holes and that wrenches a hiccup out of him that ruins his resolution.

Five lets out a pained wail.

He hastens to wipe the tears with the back of his jacket sleeve but it's of no use. Klaus's arms are still around him, so he can't move much, and the tears won't stop coming no matter how much he tries to will himself to stop.

There is so much telling in how easy Five is accepting all of this. Especially from Klaus, of all people. He knows he isn't exactly Five's favorite. Or anyone's favorite. And he's definitely no one's first pick for anything; but he is definitely one of the only ones that might be fit for exactly this moment.

"I know what a panic attack looks like, man... I've had a thousand of 'em." he mumbles softly. "Last thing you need right now is to be alone." He'd just get more stuck in his own head and it makes it so much harder to break out of the cyclic thoughts that way.

For all that he might have guessed about this moment, this wasn't it. Five letting out a body-wracking sob, with soul-wrenching sobs to follow on its heels. The sound tugs at his heart and he wishes with everything in him he had a single clue what he could do, or say, to help right now. All he can manage is a soft, repeated murmur of, "It's okay, Five... it's okay."

Five might argue with Klaus constantly, and all of his other siblings, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate his brother. It's just really, really hard for him to make it obvious, more so with words. It's so much easier to threaten or kill anybody who dares to hurt his family than actually letting them know Five is doing that because he loves them.

After being alone for so long and constantly fighting for survival he's just wired differently. Too emotionally closed off. There are moments when he wishes we weren't that way but there is no changing the scars that molded him into the person he is today. And that person is now having all his emotions hitting him at once, the traitorous things. The Handler's actions had been the straw that broke the camel's back.Having Klaus here is mortifying but it helps more than he can put in words. Five's head drops forward, hiding his face against his brother's shoulder.

"I--It s-sucks." He manages to get the words out after taking some deep gulps of air, his body still shaking. "How do you make them s-stop?"

His heart hurts when Five just gives in, gives up and buries his face against his shoulder. It's so unlike his older brother to show or act in any way he considers weak, it just matters a lot that he's doing so right here, with Klaus.

"Yeah," he says through a hollow chuckle. "it does." he nods his agreement a little, moving his hand in smooth, soothing circles on Five's back. "Um... well, there's different techniques, I dunno what would work for you." Since everyone is different. "Listen-- just... try to time your breaths with mine." It's really the easiest one to start with. Makes Five have to focus on the steadier rise and fall of Klaus' chest than the rapid, panic-y version of his own at the moment.

Deep breath in for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale slowly for eight. He'll repeat the cycle as much as he needs. If it doesn't seem to help, he has another idea in mind, too.

Klaus would be lucky if Five doesn't try to avoid him like the plague once he gets his shit together. He would also be surprised that his brother could handle him at his worst and that no one ended bleeding but the memory alone would be too mortifying for Five to handle. Or maybe he will start seeing Klaus under a new, more appreciative light. Probably both will happen, it's hard to tell.

Right now he's trying to focus on Klaus' voice, on how real he feels, alive and breathing. He's nothing like how Five had seen him in his memory for 45 years, lying on the ground among the rubble surrounded by the corpses of his other siblings. Nothing like the searing memory of the Handler shooting him dead, a pool of red growing around him.

A shudder shakes his small frame for a few seconds when the hand at the small of his back starts moving, comforting touches are so foreign that he always tenses up at first no matter how much he's been craving them for decades. Like a second go, it doesn't last, the little strength left in his tired muscles abandoning him and leaving Five to accept the touches without any complaint. They're...nice.

After half a dozen tries, he still can't manage to time his breathing with Klaus's. The lack of oxygen is making him feel increasingly dizzy and his chest hurts, so he keeps his forehead resting against his brother's shoulder.

"It's...n-not working...."

Deep breaths in, slowly let out. Over and over until it helps. Or that was the plan, until Five says that really isn't helping either, and Klaus can tell from the still too-rapid sound of his brother's breathing that's true.

"Okay, okay- that's fine, it doesn't always work for everybody." He tries to keep his voice calm and even, hand still settled at the middle of Five's back. "You're a practical guy, right? Maybe--" He glances around the barn and tries to think if it will work. Good enough, doesn't matter-- the point is just to interrupt the brain pathways that are making him panic anyway.

Klaus pushes gently on Five's shoulder, shifting to help him sit up. "Look at me. Hey," he pats Five's cheek a couple times. "Look. Tell me... without thinking too much... four things you see right now. And three things you can touch. And two things you hear." Normally, he'd walk someone through it a lot slower, but Five has always thought at rapid speeds, so dumping the whole level of instruction on him all at once kind of seemed like a better route in this case.

It's not easy to look at Klaus' face, even if the other man is being gentle about it. There's still dirt on Five's face from their brush with death, as well as blood from the wounds he got while fighting Lila. A bruise on his forehead makes the place where she had hit him with a frying pan of all things. Five's eyes are also red-rimmed, making the pale green stand out even more when he makes eye contact with his brother and then looks around the barn. He regrets it immediately.

"There's ju...just holes around, idiot. Bullet holes." And that's the main problem. Maybe if the walls weren't covered with it he wouldn't be thinking about all the What ifs, and his sibling's corpses and the blood...Five is, for once, not trying to be difficult on purpose. He's had panic attacks and PTSD episodes in the past but usually on his own and not this strong. He's about to suggest that Klaus could just knock him out but there is the chance that his body will move on muscle memory alone and try to hurt Klaus in return. He's hurt too many already, so Five keeps it to himself and listens to his brother's suggestion.

"...'kay." His heart sinks and his throat tightens as he takes another look around and then back at Klaus. He can follow orders, sometimes, if they're worth following. Things he can see, things he can see that are NOT bullet holes. "H...hay. Snow. Lamps. And ah...crates."

The voice is still raspy, the words like a wire that's being pulled out of his throat, and Five wants to put a bullet between his own eyes. Should have done that decades ago, same a lot of people a lot of problems.

His hands aren't shaking so much, and he moves them down from the lapels of Klaus' jacket to rest on down on his front. Three things he can touch? Five's legs shift a little, the heels of his shows pressing down.

"The ground. Your...your pants. Thank god y-you're wearing them. And your vest--w-why aren't you wearing a shirt underneath? It's stupid. You're going to catch a cold."

Scolding his brother gives Five an extra thing to focus on and his breathing is finally somewhat close to normal. He looks absolutely tired, his hair a mess from pulling at it, but the panicked energy surrounding him is fading.

He shakes his head a little. "No, there's more than that." it's almost an admonishment in the way he says it, a little bit of disappointment tangled into those words, because he isn't even trying.

Still. He's glad to find Five a little more malleable right now, a little more open to trying to really put what he's suggesting to use. He nods along to the things Five points out, giving a soft, "Good," in encouragement in hopes he'll continue.

Klaus relaxes a little as he keeps going, even interspersing his comments with a mix of insults toward him. Like any older brothter is wont to do. It makes him more positive that what he's doing is actually helping and God that feels good. To be useful. To be doing something right for once.

"Too cold to not wear pants, Five. I can't risk freezing the bits." He smirks a little. Look, he walked into that one, okay? He literally can't even blame Klaus for that one. He glances down at his clothes and pulls a little on the vest. "What-? What's wrong with this?" He glances back up at Five, "it's an aesthetic." There's a beat before he adds, "I wouldn't expect you to understand that-- you're still in the Academy uniform!"

Klaus wouldn't be pushing buttons in a gentle way like that if he weren't sure Five was finally coming out of the panic; but he can feel it, as that high-strung energy returns to the usual level that always hovers vaguely around Five. Klaus supposes after a billion years chasing his way back to them and doing god only knew what to get there, his brother has a reason to generally be a bit high strung. But he's glad he's slowly shedding the extra, panicked layer of it that had been threatening to swallow him whole a few minutes ago.

Five tugs at Klaus' jacket again, fingers curling into the fabric but not holding onto as tightly as before. It's grounding, that's all, touching someone, feeling them alive and warm. His brother admonishing him before lets Five with his eyebrows furrowed as he speaks the name of the things he can see and touch.

He's starting to feel more like himself, not fully put together now but more in control of the cracks showing on the walls he built around himself. His heartbeat is still fast and he makes a somewhat irritating noise at Klaus saying 'Good' as if he needs the reassurance. He does not, he really does not, no matter how the word defrosts something in his gut.

In the end, Five feels so tired. Drained of more energy than before his panic attack started. The bad pant joke still gets an amused snort out of him, though. So point for Klaus.

"Try wearing shorts when it's been snowing, then you can complain." He can't blame Klaus for that joke and he's also not surprised to hear him talk about his bits. But the best with no shirt is still absurd to him. "Does your aesthetic involve getting your nipples frozen? I'm not wearing this by choice, I didn't exactly have time to go scavenging for clothes ."

Normal people would probably say 'go clothes shopping' but normal people didn't grow up in an apocalypse wasteland.

Klaus is content to sit here with his brother as long as necessary to get him all the way back to his own sense of calm (because Klaus would argue none of them actually know what a true calm feels like).

He smirks a little at the snapback. "Yeah, well, who's fault is that, old man?" It's easy to forget that Five's timeline doesn't actually match his own at all. He's been stuck in the past for three years, and it's been a wild time, but time travel means none of them are "right" any more.

"Scavenging for-- ugh, Five, we have to get you some normal clothes, okay? I don't care what, but I feel so bad for you to just be stuck in the Academy uniform!" If Five is feeling all right enough to complain about his clothes choices, he can have it right back.

Perhaps only Ben knows what being calm is like, or at least what is like not to be an idiot on the regular. Or...knew. His brother being gone for real is probably something they all need to address and talk about at some point. Now now, because the light banter is working and anything more serious might push Five down into another panics episode.

He's embarrassed enough at it is but breathing has stopped hurting and there's only a lingering pain in his chest. Klaus calling him an old man actually makes him feel better.

"I don't know if I trust you picking clothes. You'd get me something...colorful and bright." Five's nose scrunches up, rather cutesy at that. It's the same reason why he won't be asking Allison for fashion advice either. His legs are still shaky so he doesn't try to stand. Instead, Five shifts so he's not leaning so much of his weight on Klaus, moving to sit on the ground next to his brother and leaning against his shoulder. "It's been an exhausting day."

"I'm insulted you think I couldn't pick something that fit your style." Like he knows what Five's style even is, honestly. Whatever. Can't be that hard to shop for a vaguely well-dressed grandpa, right?

He gives a lopsided smile as Five pulls out of his lap and moves to sit next to him instead. A good sign, if there ever was one, as afr as Klaus is concerned. More natural movements and choices are always a good thing after an emotional rollercoaster like that. "That it has, brother," he mumbles, leaning his head to rest on top of Five's. "that it has."

Five doesn't either. In the Apocalypse, he used whatever clothes he could find that protected him from the shitty weather. And later, with the Commission, it was their standards suits or the right period clothes for the decade he found himself in. He never had the chance to develop an identity through his clothes, not the way Klaus do. While he mocks his brother's taste on occasion, he can appreciate how much personality Klaus' clothing choices display. So Five shrugs at the complain.

"As long as you don't try to put eyeliner on me. Again." Allison and Klaus playing makeup and painting their nails was a bonding experience that Five made the mistake to ask about once and only once. He much preferred to spend time in Vanya's small room, working on his equations while hearing her practice the violin.

Five chooses to say nothing about the smile on Klaus face or how his head rests on top of his own as they lean on each other. He's not usually one for allowing such liberties or vulnerability, it makes him too awkward, emotions are like and navigating strange tides. But Klaus had seen him cry already so it isn't as if his honor can be salvaged at this point.

And it feels a tiny bit nice to be reminded that he's not alone.

"Thank god it's almost over."

"Ohmygod, I forgot about that," He laughs softly at that gentle, chiding remark about eyeliner. "I swear, this will be a clothes-only makeover and I won't paint your nails or make you wear make-up."

He hums softly, "You ready to go back?" To the house. To their siblings. To their proper timeline. Take it however you like, Five, it's a pretty open-ended question, after all.

"Lucky, I wish I could forget." There's no malice in Five's words so he isn't too bothered. It was...not exactly fun at the time but still, an experience shared with his siblings. He doesn't have nearly enough of those. Going shopping as Klaus suggests might not be so terrible.

Five takes another deep breath, tries to rearrange his hair into something that doesn't resemble a rat nest, and makes an attempt at standing up. He doesn't fall on his face, which is good, and while his hands still feel shake, he can just put them on his pockets.

"Yeah, I'm...I'm good." Or as good as he can be. Five offers Klaus a hand to help him stand up, giving his brother a small smile that borders on shy. "Thanks, Klaus."

"Whatever, you love us." He laughs a little and reaches up to fix Five's hair a little more, because well, it's still a fucking mess, and he knows he can't see it.

He tips his head a little to one side. "For what?" There's a beat and he adds, easy-as-breathing, "You're my brother." Of course he'd look when you weren't with the rest of them. Of course he'd stop. Of course he'd help you. Of course, of course, of course.

He lets Five walk ahead of him, reaching up to squeeze his shoulders before Five gets too far ahead of him. "C'mon.... let's go home." he mutters softly as they head back toward the house to their siblings. He won't say a word to anyone. What happened out there? It's just between them.

They've got to get this show on the road. With the world intact, at least until the next apocalypse, and the opportunity to change history for the better having slipped right through his hands, he can't get out of 1963 fast enough. Nevermind that there's a whole mess of emotions about a certain dark-haired assassin that he needs to sit and brood through.

But the family is intact, minus Ben, which he can't really let himself wrap his mind around just yet. That moment he'd had with him had been enough to restore his faith in the universe for a split second, but of course it couldn't last. Nothing good ever did for long.

Which was why they needed to get a move on. The briefcase was ready, the family was nearly completely in agreement - these conditions couldn't last long. There was just one left - the one that had kept them all together, then apart, then together again. Diego walks up towards the bullet hole punched barn, not prepared to see the sight of his older-younger brother on his knees.

His first thought is that the bastard had taken another bullet and had failed to tell any of them again. He curses under his breath and sprints forward, only realizing as he gets closer that whatever pain Five is in, it's not from a bullet wound.

He stops beside him, taking in his squeezed-shut eyes and reaching for the fingers fisted in his hair. "Five?"

Edited 2020-08-08 17:06 (UTC)

The name doesn't register, nor did the sounds of Diego approaching him and later the swearing. Given how perceptive and wary Five usually was about people coming close to him, this alone might have raised a few more red flags.

The touching does get a reaction and Five flinches away from Diego as if he's been stung and shrinks back against a wall, not really seeing him just yet but finally perceiving that he's no longer alone. That only makes it all worse because the last thing Five needs is an enemy nearby when he can't get enough air in his lungs and his muscles are hurting too much for his body to stand. Focusing is hard, the sound of his fast heartbeat is filling his ears and Five blinks quickly a few times, trying to keep at bay the sudden wetness at the corner of his eyes.

Looking up, eyes half-hidden behind his bangs, he tries to make sense of the hazy, undefined blur in front of him and slowly Diego's features become clearer.

“God, you look so stupid with that h-hair." He's still struggling to breathe so the word come out in a ragged gasp that hurts to listen to.

The voice is low, raw at the edges, but the bitterness in the tone isn't enough to hide the fact that Five sounds scared. He really doesn't care all that much about how his brother looks but he wants Diego to get pissed off and leave because that's a much better option than the alternative. If Five's going to fall apart he will rather do it alone, like he always did.

He should know better than to catch Five off guard, but all he's thinking about is the look on his face. At least until he practically shrinks away from him. Five might be a lot of things - a dick on most days - but Diego hadn't seen him shrink from anything, not even when they were kids.

He looks like a caged animal, dazed and wild, and all Diego can do for a second is stare at him. He moves forward when he speaks, the sound of Five's voice contrasting so much with the words that come out of him. He knows it means he wants him to leave, but all it does is cement the fact that he's not going anywhere.

He kneels in front of him, though at least he doesn't make any move to touch him again. He ignores the comment about his hair. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice urgent as he takes in his brother struggling to breathe.

Five acting like a feral creature is probably not new to anybody who's ever known him for more than ten minutes but he usually manages to keep some more composure. Diego caught him at a really bad moment when everything that had been happening for the last 20 days, or the last 45 years if Five's hones with himself, it's coming crashing down on him. It's no wonder he feels like he's drowning.

The smallest man holds his breath in an attempt to slow his pulse down and grits his teeth, trying to get bad a modicum of control. He doesn't snap at Diego again when he comes closer but eyes him with wariness. If Five had any energy left to spatial jump, he would be running for the hill already but he feels so exhausted right now that all he can do is sit there and watch the pity bloom in his brother's eyes. It makes him sick, this weakness, but he supposes he deserves the humiliation just as much Diego deserves a proper answer.

"I...It's nothing just...." Too bad that talking still feels like there's a barbed wire curled around his throat. He closed his eyes, breathing in as deeply as he could, trying in vain to stop his shaking. "You were dead, you were all dead again. Before. H-hhere. The Handler, she came in and..and she killed you first, gunned everyone down... "

"It's not nothing." He can see it in the way he's holding himself. In the way he struggles to speak. Diego knew first hand what it was like to try to get words out, but being too upset to. More than the halted words and the uncontrollable shaking was the fact that Five wasn't just jumping away from him like he always did when he got tired of Diego's presence. He was probably too exhausted to.

Still, despite all these signs that whatever was upsetting Five was important, Diego could not have predicted the words that fell out of his mouth next. He froze, his eyes trained on Five's as he recounted seeing them being slaughtered right in front of him. Not for the first time, or the second, but the third. He swallowed, trying to work some moisture into a dry mouth.

"Five," he said quietly, reaching out for his arm and gripping it lightly to try to ground him. "It's okay. We're okay."

Suddenly the fact that Five had known exactly where to jump to stop the Handler made sense. He'd been expecting her because he'd already lived through the surprise. Diego feels himself shiver at just how badly all of this had almost ended.

He's probably lucky that Diego doesn't rush him to speak, that from all his siblings he's the one who understands the struggle, but it doesn't make Five feel much better. They had always been at odds, they both had a volatile temper and liked to be right all the time, so it wasn't a surprise that Diego and Five butted heads almost as often as Luther and Diego did.

Five still cares for him, of course. Diego is the only one of his siblings who really understands the need to make unpleasant sacrifices and get your hands dirty to protect others. The only one who will still talk back at him even when Five is one short joke away to strangle him. The one who's here with him, trying to help him calm down. It's not working but the attempt is appreciated and the realization leaves Five pale and shaking.

Wide green eyes follow Diego's movements, Five sees his hand reaching out for him and he's too frozen in place to stop it. He almost expects the touch to hurt because that's usually the reason why someone would like to get this close to him. He inhales sharply through his nose when pain doesn't come and his jaw clenches.

"But for how long...? " Five is still panting for breath, his chest heaving. " ....All I do is bring d-death to our door."

When they had been younger, it hadn't taken a lot to make Diego feel stupid. His stutter hadn't helped and while he couldn't retaliate against the old man's impatience, he could fight back when it came to the others. Luther and Allison contented themselves with teasing him about other things, but nothing got under his skin more than the impatient looks Five would give him if he said something wrong. Five had always acted as if he was smarter and better than the rest of them, something that Diego had deeply resented up until he was gone. Even when he'd returned it'd only taken Five less than an hour to bring that feeling roaring back full force.

But they weren't children any more, even if Five was unlucky enough to look like it. Having seen the Time Commission first hand, Diego has a better understanding of what it means to be part of something bigger. To be able to have that kind of power at your fingertips and to be willing to give it up in order to get back home to his family. He understands better than anyone, just how much Five has done to get them all here in one piece.

"Hey, just breathe," Diego says. He's seen Five in a lot of states, but he's never seen him like this before. Even if he didn't look like a kid right now, there's a vulnerability that makes him look young and scared. Diego lowers himself on his knees, reaching out with his other hand to put it on his other shoulder.

"Five, listen to me. You've kept us together," he says, slowly. "You kept us alive." As much a Luther doesn't want the role of leader and longer and Diego decided a long time he didn't need it, there's no mistaking that Five managed to take the role when no one was looking.

"And now we can go home," he says, squeezing his brother's shoulders. "You can come home."

Everything had come toppling down so suddenly. Five has been fine a few hours ago. Stressed to hell and back, sure, being shot at by every angle with Diego running for his life next to him, that too, but he had kept his emotions under control. Fight or flight reactions are natural and easy to handle, he usually goes for the former unless all the odds are against him, and he knows there's no shame in the later.

But this. He doesn't know how to handle this. He looks at Diego's face and doesn't see the kind of disgust he's had come to expect from their father when they failed to meet his standards in some way. -- Disgust, not pity. Never pity coming from that man. I told you do. ItoldyousoItoldyousoItoldyouso....-- It's uncanny and unexpected, it leaves Five feeling exposed in a different kind of way when his weakness isn't mocked at or criticized.

No, no, the look is comforting instead and Five isn’t one to accept comfort easily. It's not that he doesn't want it but he knows doesn't deserve it so he stopped expecting it. The new touch to his shoulder stops the world from spinning, it helps to make his visionless blurry. Or perhaps it's because the tears are finally falling down his cheeks instead of pooling in his eyes without Five realizing it.

"Home...?"

Such an odd word, one that feels unfamiliar after so many years without a place to fit in. Five doesn't think he has a place like that anymore. The Handler made him a killer and he no longer belongs anywhere. It might not have been personal, as he told Lila, but there's a lot of skeletons in Five's closet, a lot of blood in his hands. And they will always chase him, find a way to get to him even if that way is through his siblings.

And yet, he wants to be where his family is. It's the one simple fact he knows to be the truth. So he latches onto it and onto Diego's words. We can go home. The promise is soothing and it dulls some of the panic.

"I would...like that."

Diego isn't sure what's worse, seeing a thirteen-year-old cry, or seeing a grown man in a thirteen-year-old body cry, but right now he feels like he's seeing both of them. He can't remember the last time he'd seen Five cry, even as a kid. His chest tightens at the sight of it, that sharp, sad pain only growing at the sound of Five's uncertain words.

He shifts, letting go of him to sit beside Five, in the hay, their shoulders solidly touching. "You've earned it," Diego says, resting his head back against the wall and turning it towards Five.

"Herb told me what you did at the Commission." And that had been before he'd known he was the one that had taken out the Board and thrown the place into chaos. "Pretty ballsy."

This is a very uncomfortable situation for everyone involved, no doubt. Five would literally be in any other place, alone. If he could teleport, he would spare them both the embarrassment. Since that's not a possibility, his eyes follow Deigo when the man moves and Five relaxes a fraction when his brother settles next to him.

His head is still killing him but breathing is becoming easier the longer he speaks because it forces his body to go slow. He scoffs at Diego's reassurance that he earned some rest because it doesn't feel true but arguing further than that is too much of a chore.

Slowly, Five's arms wrap around his legs, letting his chin rest on his knees. He makes the mistake of looking forward and the wall riddled with bullet holes makes him queasy. His head turns towards Diego and he leans against this brother's side almost imperceptibly.

"What part?" Five has done some pretty wild things involving the Commission, including but not limited to: killing both guilty and innocent people to maintain the time-line, blowing up the Handler before blowing up their suitcase room, and selling his soul to a monster of a woman for the chance to go back and save his family. He doesn't like oversharing so he's trying to figure out which one of his secrets is the one Diego considers 'ballsy'.

Five looks terrible, as if he could sleep for a week and then some, but at least his breathing is evening out a little. Diego has never been good at giving comfort, he prefers kicking ass, but he's grateful for the fact that Five seems to be relaxing slowly.

If Diego knew a fraction of what Five's pulled off in his career as a temporal assassin, he'd probably be more than a little depressed and possibly more than a little disturbed, but his time with Herb was limited.

"Blowing up the place," Diego says, biting back a grin. "You should hear the way they talk about you, Five. You're like their own, personal Robin Hood or something."

Five's shoulders are still shaking, although the growing cold of the evening is to blame. Wearing shorts isn't ideal to keep yourself warm and now that he's not freaking out, his temperature is quickly dropping. His expression is relaxed in a bone-tired sort of way, his eyes still bright due to the crying and the skin under them is darker than the rest of Five's pale face.

He lets out an amused huff at the Robin Hood comparison and it sounds a bit like a sniffle at the end. He can't say he regrets blowing up half the place, it was a shame they had more suitcase stored and the Hander could call for reinforcements. If I hadn't' been for Vanya, they would all have died then and there.

"Most of the people at the top are rotten. Or they w-were before I..." Five doesn't finish, grimacing, because Diego knows what he did to the Board of Directors. His breathing is still labored but it's losing that edge that signals he's only two minutes away from a panic attack. "...they only cared for results, quick and effective, instead of figuring out if there was a less bloody way to fix the errors in the timeline. But then there are others like Herb and Dot. Pragmatic, practical but not heartless. Maybe if they were in change, the Temps Commission could be better."

He's not sure what to do except to keep Five talking. It seems like that's all he's done since he's gotten back. Telling them about the end of the world. Trying to stop it. Trying to save them.

Considering it's hard to be in the same room with all his siblings at one time for more than five minutes, he gets that isn't an easy thing to do. It's clearly taken its toll on Five.

He still looks unsteady, clearly not ready to be around the others and Diego's not about to leave him alone. He shifts, as if he's getting more comfortable on the hay, but when he's done, he's a little closer, more solidly sitting beside his brother.

"If they were anything like her, you did the world a favor," he says, a scowl darkening his face. He wonders how Lila's going to swallow down a lifetime of lies and deceit. Considering she left the bracelet behind, she'll probably be doing it without him. He nods, not sure what to think of the Commission that turned his brother into an assassin. Or had Reginald done that and they'd just used him as a weapon?

"I know it wasn't easy," Diego says before pausing. He means coming back for them. But the reality is nothing has been easy for Five. He'd thought his life was one shit show of disappointment after the other, but Five had survived a lifetime of shitshows. He sighs, shaking his head and shrugging. "Any of it. But I'm glad you came back, even if the urge to punch you sometimes is strong."

Edited 2020-08-24 03:15 (UTC)

Talking seems to do the trick well enough. It worked with Lila and it is working with Five, maybe because Diego's voice is rather soothing when they aren't all screaming at each other. It's harder to remember the quiet moments like those from when they were kids. Back then, their father used their competitive streak to further the goals he wanted to accomplish during training and it left a toll on all of them.

Even decades away from the man's machinations and Five still argues with Luther and Diego at the drop of a hat. He feels bad for it when he actually stops to think about it, when they are no longer running against the clock to save the world. Five wishes he had the ability to apologize, there are so many things that still need to be fixed. He's surprised that Diego, or even any other of his siblings, still wants to talk to him at all.

"Probably. I still didn't like it, I ...I never did, you know. " Five drags a hand over his face and hair, brushing some of the tear streaks away and making a bigger mess of his fringe. "I'm good at killing, so good at killing, but I never enjoyed any of it. I did what I had to do for the chance to come back..."

And among other things, doing that implied ringing people's lives. He's not surprised that Lila hates his guts, even if what he did wasn't personal. Five freezes at Diego's last words, not because of the threat - it's not new nor intimidating- but at the admission that he's been missed. It pulls a small smile from his lips. "I'm glad to be back."

Diego's expression sobers, his smile fading. He sighs softly, watching Five wipe at his tear streaks. "I know."

He looks so goddamn young. Diego wants to believe that this is the younger version of him that still has his whole life ahead of him. That doesn't have to do those things just to get back to his family, but that's a fairytale. Despite what he looks like on the outside, Diego can see the years in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

"This is what you've been fighting for, Five. You got us and apparently you've got to find a new line of work." He smirks. "I'm going to suggest anything but working with the public. You've got an obstinate nature. It wouldn't go well."

Five doesn't say anything for a second but he takes in a shuddering breath. It's important for him that his family know that he wasn't a monster without reason, that it's not something he would have done if he had more choices. Diego seems to understand and that gives him some hope.

"A new line of work..." He sounds thoughtful, a small huff following, and a little smile playing on his lips. Five didn't think he would actually survive his current one, let alone find another. He doesn't even know what else he can be but a survivor. "Maybe I could become a language teacher, god knows you and Luther could use someone to teach you Swedish."

It's an attempt of a joke. Not very good, given what happened with the Swedes, but it's there. "My spanish is a bit rusty, though, you could give me a crash course again."

He chuckles despite himself. He hasn't had much time to spare a thought for the lady he probably scared half to death the other day, but he hopes she gets over it soon. He'd been so wound up about Elliot, he hadn't been thinking straight and Swedish wasn't one of the languages that had stuck.

"I could," Diego says, raising an eyebrow. He knows Five's Spanish is probably perfect or close enough, but the fact that he would even joke about it being less than so is sign enough that he's trying.

He raises his arm and puts it around Five's shoulders, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. Usually he's so standoffish and out of reach both mentally and physically that it'd be impossible, but Diego thinks if there's any time of him not stabbing him or jumping out of reach it's now.

"The only thing you really need to know 90% of the time is Y tu mama tambien."

All things considered, if the situation hadn't been so terrible Five would have been laughing at how Luther and Diego's imagination can run wild. But that poor old lady probably hasn't slept well in days.

And no, Five doesn't really need help with the languages he knows but it would be a way to hang out with his brother while none of them is in danger. It could be a good change. Diego is right in his assumption that Five isn't usually the hugging type but it feels right now and he appreciates the comfort his sibling is offering.

It shows how tired Five is that he laughs out loud at the joke, then looks startled. He had almost forgotten the sound of his own laugh.

"That one is a flawless argument." The smaller man takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly through his mouth, leaning into the hug. "Thank you, Diego."

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[Open post | The End of Something ]

{He ain't heavy, he's my brother

That song, ah ♥

riiiight? it was perfect

Very fitting and very sweet

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sorry I thought I already replied this :C