It's two days before any of them think to tell Vanya, because she moved out last September to start taking classes at the music college across town and it's really been a long time since they thought to include her at all. It's Allison who remembers in the end, and even then it's only because she can't stand the silence: Luther, solid and immovable as stone, throwing himself into training like it's all he lives for; Diego, filled with a burning grieving rage that chokes his speech and leaves a trail of embedded knives and shattered sculptures around the house; Klaus, uncharacteristically quiet save for the music hissing faintly from his headphones as he drifts from room to room. Five missing and Ben dead, a portrait on the wall and a statue in the courtyard. Vanya, on the other end of a crackling line, doesn't say anything for a long time. When she does, her voice is flat, almost emotionless, but Allison can hear the accusation in it anyway. "How did it happen?"
Allison takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling trapped by the narrow confines of the phone box she's slipped away to. "A mission," she says. "We were overwhelmed. He... he lost control of his powers."
She isn't lying, but she also doesn't have the words to even begin to convey the sheer horror of what really happened. Their teamwork had collapsed like a card tower- even now, Allison can't unpick the exact catalyst, although she suspects that Klaus wasn't sober, that Luther was being more of a dick about it than he should have been, that she had sided with Luther without questioning it, that Diego had lost his temper with the lot of them before they even got to the location- and Ben was trying to cover all their backs at once. "It was… bad," Allison finishes lamely, the word too small and weak to truly tell Vanya what it was like. The screaming, raw and hoarse until it abruptly stopped; the sound of bodies hitting the floor; the sound of her own scream, shrill and frantic, as Ben, face drained of colour, staggered and fell and landed in a pool of his own blood, pouring and spreading from the single gaping wound of his torso.
"I'm sorry," Vanya's voice says into her ear, still so carefully calm amidst the crackling of the line. "Thank you for letting me know." She waits several seconds, and then hangs up, perhaps realising that Allison can't, or won't, say any more.
Diego leaves within a week. He packs a bag with clothes and a stash of food they belatedly realise he's been hoarding for weeks, maybe longer, and takes every knife in the house and leaves. He kisses Grace on the cheek when he goes and she hugs him so the others don't see the threat of tears in his eyes. Hargreeves says nothing; Pogo stands by his side, sad-faced but silent. "I'm joining the police ah- cah- cad-" He stops, takes a breath. "The force," he says. "I don't need to be a superhero to puh- puh- pruh-" Another deep breath, expression twisting, darkening. "To protect people. I don't need you."
The door slams like a promise, leaving silence broken only by Klaus murmuring, "oh, shit" in a high, cracked tone that makes Allison glance at Hargreeves in case he notices. They all know about Klaus's drinking, have all begged and yelled and snatched bottles out of his shaking hands too many times in the last few years. Allison's pretty sure he hasn't been sober since the mission, so it's only a matter of time before Hargreeves takes action against it. There's a part of her that wonders if he'll ask her to rumour him out of it. She hasn't had to use her powers on her siblings in a long time- the last time, years ago now, Klaus had asked her, come to her trembling and pale from sleep-deprivation.
Please, he'd begged, please stop them, and when she'd refused, reluctant to try using her powers in a realm she couldn't even see, or- or make me sleep. If you won't make them stop, make me sleep.
And she'd done it- I heard a rumour you were so tired you couldn't stay awake any longer- and then had to catch him as he collapsed in her doorframe. She'd probably have left him in her bed and tried taking his for the night except Ben was standing in the doorway of his own room and helped her carry him.
It's the ghosts, he'd said. They don't let him rest.
Why are you awake?
He'd just shrugged and tucked the blankets in more tightly around Klaus's skinny shoulders.
"Number One," Hargreeves says, back in the present, and they all jump. "Come with me. We have important matters to discuss."
Luther looks shocked for a moment- it's rare that any of them are granted a private audience with the man who claims to be their father that doesn't end in some sort of extreme discomfort- and then nods, following Hargreeves out of the room in long, carefully controlled steps.
"I'll make cookies," Grace says. "Klaus, honey, do you want to help?"
"I'm good, Mom," Klaus says. "I'm gonna…" He gestures vaguely up the staircase as if he's forgotten where it leads to. "Get some air," he finishes eventually, and wanders away in the opposite direction. Pogo shakes his head, but turns away to follow Hargreeves and Luther.
"Allison?" Grace asks.
"It's okay, Mom," Allison says, forcing a smile. "Thanks."
"Well, if you need anything, just ask, okay?"
"Okay, Mom."
She ends up sitting in the courtyard staring up at the statue that looks nothing like her brother. "I heard a rumour," she whispers, and listens to the echoes blur in the air around her. "I heard a rumour that you came back."
I heard a rumour.
I heard a rumour.
I heard….
"Bullshit," she mutters. "You heard nothing." Still, she waits, staring up at the statue and the wet grey sky above it until she's shivering and she can't tell if the damp spots on her cheeks are tears or rain. "Miss Allison," a voice says behind her, and she turns to see Pogo, an umbrella in one hand. "Dinner is ready."
"Is Dad going to be there?"
Pogo hesitates, which tells her all she needs to know, really. "Sir Hargreeves is occupied with further work this evening," he says eventually. "But I'm sure your mother and your brothers would appreciate your presence tonight." He steps closer, raises the umbrella over her head and leads her inside.
Then there's four of them at the table, the three of them and Grace, still sitting in the same seats they had when they were kids, even though there's more empty seats than full ones now. Luther stares stonily ahead, seemingly impervious to Allison's hand just inches from his own. He eats and accepts second helpings of potatoes when Grace offers them and doesn't say a word. Klaus doesn't touch his food, just sits and drinks- it's a blue plastic bottle with a cheery cartoon whale and the message stay hydrated to have a whale of a time! and he's clinging to it just a little too tightly for it to be just water. Allison doesn't know where he got it from. She doesn't care. She doesn't.
"How was your day?" Grace asks, all perfect hair and calm smiles. "Did you do anything exciting?"
The silence is painful. It was always Diego who answered first, eager to tell her that he tied with Luther in training, that he found a way of curving knives round corners without seeing what was on the other side, anything and everything, just to hear her response of that's wonderful, Diego, darling. Now, who wants dessert?
"Tremendous," Klaus says. "Absolutely stellar." He's not just drunk, Allison realises. There's a glint in his eyes of something she doesn't recognise. "I found my new best friend." The last word is a sigh, an exhale that seems to force every last scrap of energy from his body. He looks like he hasn't slept for days.
"A friend?" Grace says, as Luther clenches his fist so hard his fork bends like a straw.
"He's high," he says, the disgust palpable.
"As a fucking kite," Klaus says brightly. "You should try it, brother dearest. Get that stick out of your ass sometime."
"Language," Grace chides.
"Sorry, mom. High as a fricking kite, and let me tell you, it is the best-"
Klaus stops suddenly, turning his head to the side so sharply she hears a joint in his neck click. Luther's cutlery creaks in his grip, and Grace blinks placidly, and Allison watches as her brother goes paler than she's ever seen him.
"Klaus?" she asks after a moment. He's shaking, one hand outstretched and trembling, tears tracing a smudge of eyeliner down his cheek. "Klaus, what's wrong?"
Klaus forms the word with his lips silently three times before any sound reaches them, an inhale that looks like it chokes him, his voice a hoarse death-rattle. "Ben."
"Ben?" Allison echoes, at the same time as Luther throws his handful of mangled silverware to the table with a clatter. Allison's the only one who jumps; Grace sits as calmly as ever, while Klaus doesn't even flinch.
"What are you doing here?" he whispers. "Why are you here?"
"What the hell, Klaus?" Luther demands. There's a vein twitching in his forehead, all the fury of the past week throbbing beneath the surface like an aneurysm waiting to happen.
"They- they usually have something they need," Klaus mutters, rising to his feet, swaying slightly. "Something they want me to do, somewhere to go, something to destroy, someone to- someone to kill- what do you want me to do?" He's waving at the air and shaking so badly that Allison rises from her seat, crosses round the table to take him by the arm.
"Klaus," she says again. "Klaus, what's going on?"
"It can't be nothing!" Klaus screams suddenly, twisting loose from her grip, stumbling and falling to his knees, grasping hopelessly at something none of them can see. "It's never nothing, and you're- you're fucking dead, you're not allowed to come here and tell me that it's nothing-"
"Klaus-" Allison flounders, glancing helplessly at Grace, who simply begins clearing away the dishes.
"Leave him," Luther says, sharp and probably louder than he meant to. Klaus ignores him, but Allison flinches.
"Luther-"
"He's faking it. He's high, his powers don't work so well when he's drunk or whatever. He's faking it for attention, just like he always does-" Klaus gasps out a fuck you that probably isn't directed at either of them, and Luther's face creases with something a little too harsh to be pity. "Leave him, Allison. If we ignore him, he'll realise there's no point and give up."
She stands slowly, reluctant to leave her brother kneeling on the floor, muttering hysterically to empty air. He's murmuring ben, ben, ben over and over now, and even as she steps back he curls forward and in on himself like a child. "But if it's Ben-"
"Ben's dead," Luther interrupts her. "Ben's dead and Five's gone, and Diego's left and I don't want to lose him too, but it's his own choice if he wants to ruin himself, so leave him alone."
Allison stares at him, a numb feeling beginning to spread through her. "Luther- Luther, what did Dad say to you?"
Luther hesitates for a second, then shakes his head. "He said we need to think of the team," he says, cold and heavy as old steel. "All of us. We can't afford dead weight."
"Dead weight- Luther- "
"If he wants to be part of the team, he'll start acting like it."
Allison chokes on that, words sticking in her throat like broken glass. "Luther," she says, the name stranger on her lips now than it was seven years ago when she first tried using it, "there is no team. It's just us."
There's a long silence, broken only by Klaus sobbing on the floor between them, jumbled, broken words that don't seem to be directed at any of them. Allison crouches beside him and tries not to flinch when Luther leaves, the door slamming behind him. "Klaus," she says softly. "Klaus, can you hear me?" He looks up when she touches his arm, eyes huge and rimmed with smudged dark makeup in a pale face, but barely seems to recognise her, chest heaving and gaze fixed on something she can't see. "Klaus, please." She's scared of losing him along with all the others, can see him slipping further and further down the slope he's been on for longer than any of them want to admit.
"All- Allison?" Klaus's voice is shaky and hoarse and hesitant, but it's something, and it's enough for Allison to pull him gently to his feet.
"Come on," she says, casting a glance back at Grace, still in the kitchen. She rarely got involved when it came to Klaus's powers, or his drinking- at first it was frustrating, but eventually they'd agreed that it was better that she ignored it instead of telling Hargreeves. "You should probably rest."
Klaus droops against her, all long limbs and sharp bones poking her as she begins to manoeuvre them upstairs. "He says sorry," he whispers as they reach his bedroom. "He didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't scare me," Allison says, which is true- at this point it takes a lot more than one of Klaus's meltdowns to scare any of them. "I'm just… worried." About Klaus, yes, and about Diego and Vanya, both of them out on their own now, and about Luther, although she doesn't quite know why.
Klaus slumps into bed without any protest, drawing the covers around himself like a shield. He's still shaking, though not so badly as before, so Allison hesitates at the door. "You need anything?" she asks. Something about the question stirs a vague memory of one of the early nannies they'd had before Grace, the Irish one who'd sit on the end of her bed and say now, Miss Allison, do you need anything? A drink, a story, a song to chase the monsters away, and laughed when Allison had said I already know how to chase the monsters away. Klaus, shivering and staring glassily at the opposite wall, doesn't look like he could chase his own shadow away right now, but Allison leaves him anyway.
She lasts another few weeks.
She doesn't talk to Luther, or Luther doesn't talk to her- she's not sure which it is. She gets a call from Vanya one day about the funeral for Ben she belatedly realises none of them bothered to invite her to, and almost cries from the sheer need for human contact. Diego never calls at all. Klaus stays out later and later, comes home long after breakfast, and one day just doesn't come home at all. She threatens to rumour Luther until he agrees to help her look for him, because she knows enough about the sort of places Klaus has been frequenting lately to understand that going alone would be a bad idea, powers or no powers. They don't find him, or anyone who's sober enough to be of any help, but they don't find a body either.
Although Hargreeves seems to have accepted the fact that his team has fallen to pieces with the same stony detachment he's exhibited ever since Five disappeared, he still calls for training sessions every day, followed by individual work on their powers. Luther was always careful when he sparred with any of them, even with Five at his most obnoxious or when Diego was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, but now he's so wary of even touching Allison that she loses her temper and slaps him in the face after a solid hour of his pretending he can't see that her guard's down.
"Ow," he says.
"Hit me back," Allison says. "Go on."
There's a pause. Hargreeves, taking notes on the sidelines, raises his gaze to meet Allison's. For a moment she wonders if he's going to intervene, but he simply watches Luther stare at his own hands as if he's never seen them before.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I'm not going to hurt you, Allison."
"Why not?"
"Because- because-"
"Because what?"
Luther takes a deep breath and a step away from her. "Because you're the only one left," he says. "And I don't want to lose you too."
"Oh, really," Allison says. There's a dangerous sort of icy fury building up in her, covering her skin with goosebumps, her hair crackling with static. There's a part of her that vaguely knows that if she were to use her powers at this moment, she could command anyone to do anything. She could tell Luther to beat Hargreeves into the ground and he'd do it, because she absolutely, cold-heartedly, would make it happen in a heartbeat. She could do anything.
The thought stops her cold.
"Allison?" Luther says. She looks at him, looks past the walls of Hargreeves' commands to try and see the boy she's known for her whole life, the boy who she saw practising poses and commands into a mirror, who danced with her in the attic space when he'd found her crying because other girls got to go to proms in bright, sparkling dresses, and other girls didn't know what the insides of a person looked like when they were spilt across floors and walls and her siblings and her own hands. She tries to align that boy with the Luther in front of her who let their teammates fall away like dead leaves in a storm without even trying to catch them, and realises they're the same person.
"I heard a rumour," she says at last, soft and gentle- she doesn't need Hargreeves to hear this. He won't care enough, either way. "I heard a rumour that you let me go."
wake from your sleep
the drying of your tears
today we escape, we escape
breathe, keep breathing
don't lose your nerve
breath, keep breathing
I can't do this alone