Chapter 1: Someone's In The Apartment

Leonard's POV

Leonard Peabody, Harold Jenkins, or whatever you wanted to call him, wasn't many things. He wasn't ever the tallest, the best-looking, or the smartest. He wasn't special, as he had spent his youth dreaming about being. There seemed to be an overwhelming list of the things he was painfully average at. So what was he good at? Surely, everyone had at least one extraordinary quality to them?

Patience, he told himself as he placed his worn, marked copy of Extra Ordinary back into its hiding place on the shelf. Patience, he went back to his seat in the armchair.

Exactly how patient was he?

He had been waiting for fifteen years to exact his revenge on Reginald Hargreeves and his horrid Umbrella Academy. He had waited a tad too long in Reginald's case, as he discovered when Vanya had come home in tears. But nevertheless, his plan would still work. He wanted them to pay just as much as he did their old man.

His eyes darted back to the hiding place on the shelf. He had always been looking for a way to hurt the Umbrella Academy, but not until he had heard news of the tell-all novel written by one Vanya Hargreeves did he know how. Number Seven, who had been in the shadows her whole life. Number Seven, who 'didn't have powers.' Likely story, he'd scoffed. As if just one of them would be born ordinary. As if the great Reginald Hargreeves would keep around a child so average.

He'd read the book probably a thousand times over, detecting tiny holes in her story, in her memory. Chunks of time that were missing or didn't line up with the rest. He was grasping at straws, but it was his only chance at revenge.

And then he met her. And he played the nice guy, acted as if he hadn't studied every syllable of her memoir, and they immediately clicked because the both of them had never been truly seen before. He left out details of his life, obviously, but for the most part they'd had the same childhood. His father abusive physically, hers emotionally. Being ordinary in a world with the extraordinary.

Maybe at one point he did love her. He remembered six weeks into their relationship when he felt himself falter. He had set out an ant trap, and she'd yelled at him. She said that they were hungry, and he watched as she threw the trap away, pretended not to see her blink back a tear at the ones that had already been killed, and put one of their old stale donuts on a plate. She put it in an old, dark closet that they never used, dubbing it the 'ant house.' Every once in a while she would throw them some more food. It had made him see her for the first time. Because he lied before - he didn't actually take much notice of her. Just of her family and her secrets and the power within. But he saw how pure and full of light she was. She was a beacon in the darkness. For a moment he allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe he could love her. That her yelling at him for killing ants could be a sweet, domestic life for him and maybe he wouldn't get revenge on this sweet girl's family.

He had discarded the thought just as quickly as it had come up. He had to do this. He had to keep searching for the darkness in her light that was so dark that even egotistical Reginald Hargreeves knew he had to hide it from the world. He would squash her light out like an ant if he had to.

Exactly what his plan was was unclear. Initially he thought that maybe he would kill her. But it became abundantly clear that that would be a bad idea. First, no one really cared about Vanya Hargreeves, especially her siblings. They would be a little sad at best before coming to kill him out of familial obligation. Second, if he was going to die doing this, then it had to be worth it.

So back to the drawing board he went. He devised many more plans, but none seemed fit. But as he'd stated earlier, he wasn't the smartest. He needed to play to his one strength, his patience, and wait for the opportunity to arise.

In the meantime, he'd been trying to awaken her mysterious powers. He tried being nice to her, encouraging her to try new things. He put her in situations where he thought survival might kick in and save her. He'd set up scenarios like her getting mugged, her nearly drowning, and many, many more. Each time a bit more intense than the last. She still had yet to show any signs of an ability.

The thought did cross his mind that she didn't have any, but he ignored it, continuing to try.

Eventually they moved in together, and shortly afterwards he gave up the nice guy spiel. He would get it out of her one way or another.

She had been completely cut off from her family, and he'd ensured that she believed that they wouldn't help even if she had told them. She had no one else.

The family reunion at first had seemed problematic for his plans with her. If she reconnected with her family, what was to stop them from coming after him? He didn't believe that they cared about her, not after her stunt with the book, but their hero complexes would likely compel them to help. It turned out that he needn't worry, though, as she had still yet to tell them anything. He knew that he'd succeeded in brainwashing her - she didn't think that they would care enough to help. Didn't think that she deserved it.

He peered out their second story window, a smirk gracing his features at the sight below. There was Vanya, taking her sweet time to get home. Hadn't he told her not to be late from rehearsal again?

Vanya's POV

She walked home from the theater with a slight drag in her step. The band had all gone out to get ice cream after, but she was forgotten as usual. She contemplated following along with them anyways - no one but Helen was cruel enough to turn her away if she happened to tag along. However she knew when she wasn't wanted, and left for her apartment.

She didn't want to get home. She knew Leonard had told her to stop being late, accentuating the demand with a sharp backhand, but her apartment had just become another house that didn't feel like a home anymore.

He had also told her that he wouldn't be home until later tonight. Her stomach dropped when she saw his truck in the parking lot. She glanced back up to her window, seeing the curtain closing. Damn.

She quickly made her way up to their door and knocked. He let her in wordlessly, closing the door behind her and locking it.

"I thought you would be-" her voice trembled, question abruptly unfinished as he slapped her and drove a fist into her gut.

"I thought you would listen. To. Me," he seethed. "Apparently we were both wrong."

"I-I'm sorry." She would like to have been able to say that after a certain point she'd stopped crying when he did this, but every time she was reduced to a blubbering mess.

"You'd better be!" He roared, shoving her to the ground. "Ungrateful bitch! No one would ever love you but me, and this is how you repay me?! Disobedience? Lies?" Each question came with a sharp kick to the ribs, rendering her unable to answer. She just sobbed.

"You're worthless!" He screamed, stepping back to pace around. "No wonder your family never wanted you around. You're not smart. You're not strong. You're no good at anything. The only thing you do all day is violin and you're not even good at that. You wrote a book, I suppose but even that went horribly. You're not ordinary - you're less than."

His words hurt worse than any physical pain he could dish out. She continued bawling on the floor, but her own wails weren't enough to keep out the words.

"God, bitch. You would think that you would be able to handle this by now. Weak. I'm going to go get some drinks. When I get back, you'd better be cleaned up." His rage over, he stepped over her form, grabbing his coat off the rack and opening the door. "Have dinner ready."

She didn't answer, staying on the floor in the entryway until her sobs turned to pained whimpers.

She picked herself up slowly, feeling the brunt of her injuries - old and new. This was far from a rare occurrence.

She managed to make it to her bedroom, sitting on her bed and staring at the wall.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to leave him more than anything. She tried once when it all first started. It didn't go well.

She didn't have anything to run away to, or with. He had access to all her bank accounts. The money she had made from her book was spent on keeping his failing shop open and funding his drinking habits. He had everything in their relationship. The money, the apartment, the truck.

When she got back into touch with her family, she so desperately wanted to tell them. But they treated her coldly. She was held at an arm's length, which she knew she deserved. The book had been the final straw, and she hadn't stopped to consider the consequences. By the time she'd tried to get the book pulled, her publisher informed her that it was too late.

She had only wanted for once in her life to be able to tell her story.

She liked to imagine what each of her siblings would do if they were in her situation with Leonard. Luther would've been out the first time Leonard ever laid a hand on him, and if he had a problem with that then he wouldn't hesitate to punch him into oblivion.

Diego would be hurt - he always had more feelings than Luther did. But he would leave, and like Luther if he had a problem with that then he could have a very personal meeting with Diego's knife collection.

Allison would never find herself in a situation like that. She was too strong, too smart. And if by some chance she did, she would ruin him. He'd wind up dropping his pants on national television or something of the sort.

Klaus would be gone without a second thought. He already had the dead screaming at him all day - he wouldn't hesitate to be rid of once more voice. Besides, he always had Ben for support.

Five wouldn't stand for any of it. He would ensure that Leonard never hurt anyone ever again.

Ben was always the nicest. He probably wouldn't hurt Leonard (but if Klaus found out, he totally would), but would get himself out of the situation.

Any of her siblings could handle Leonard on their own. She couldn't. She was weak, just like he loved to remind her.

It was dark by the time she'd gotten dinner prepared, but he still wasn't back yet. The leftover fried chicken sat on the table, getting cold. She would have to microwave it again.

She staggered to the living room, almost screaming when she saw someone on their couch. The scream died in her throat as she realized it was only her brother.

"Five," she sighed in relief, then snapped, "stop breaking in!"

He shrugged. "You still haven't gotten locks on you windows."

"Would that really stop you?"

He smirked, then seemed to take in her state. She knew that she had dark circles under her eyes, but prayed he didn't notice how she was out of breath from just standing or noticing any of her injuries.

He stood up suddenly, stopping in front of her with all traces of humor (as funny as breaking into her apartment was) gone from his face. "What happened?" His hand reached towards her face, fingers hovering over a cut she'd forgotten about. One of Leonard's rings as he'd hit her.

She stepped back. "It's nothing, Five."

His hand dropped. "Then where'd you get it?"

She was unprepared for his questions. She had never bothered to think of any excuses because she'd never before been asked. "I… fell."

"Bullshit."

"Language," she corrected.

"I'm not actually thirteen, you know. How did you get that?"

"I fell."

"Bullshit."

"Language."

The two of them maintained a heavy stare, her pushing up as many walls as she could and him trying to break past them. He didn't need another reason to think she was weak.

Then, the sound of footsteps down the hallway. She knew them to be Leonard's. Fear flashed across her face. "Five, you have to go." He didn't like her family. It was weird, because it had seemed the opposite when they first met. He had seemed so interested in them, asking questions and referencing things she'd said about them in her book. Then he changed, and now he hated when she spent any amount of time with them.

Five only looked confused. "What? Not until you tell me how you got that."

She hated herself for it, but a tear rolled down her cheek in panic. She glanced back at the door. "Five, please go!"

"Vanya, what's wrong?!"

She was shaking. "Please, Five!"

He spared one more look at her before jumping away, and she slumped in relief. The door opened.

Leonard came in, sat at the table, and started eating. She quickly brushed away the tear track and calmed her adrenaline before joining him.

"Did I say you could sit?" He said through a mouthful of chicken.

She stood back up. "Sorry."

He made her stand there for a few minutes before finally gesturing to the seat in permission.

She sat.

She had only put one leg on her plate before he warned, "Careful - you'll get fat. The only thing you got is that you're skinny."

She only ate half the leg.

When she looked at her phone that night, she saw that she had two missed calls from Five. And a text.

I'll pick you up tomorrow. I need you to pretend to be my mom.

She would've laughed if it didn't hurt to. Instead she smiled. It reminded her so much of old times - of the Five that wasn't too old for his body.