he got eight of them

by petuliaklimpt

just as it seems impossible for things in her life to get any worse, her father dies and Margrette Hargreeves has to go back home for the funeral to meet with the rest of her siblings who all happen to take pleasure from avoiding each other and holding each on their own way, traits that that often sent the other's insane. Follow Number Eight's place in this story. Pairings: SR/OC

Hi everyone!

So yes, this is something I've been working for quite a while now but just happened to finish it no long ago (and by it I mean this chapter, because I still haven't started with the second). Basically each chapter will contain the material for a whole episode and some flashbacks here and there, maybe. I saw TUA a few weeks after it aired on Netflix and I went obsessed with it for like months (still am tho) and got some of the comics as well (first comics I've ever read and they're GOOD) I think Margrette is an interesting enough character and please let me know what you think of her and the story by itself. Also, some other superheroes may come into the story as a romance source. Please I hope you enjoy it and I promise it'll get better as the chapters go. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this!

Remember that I don't own any of this! only my OC.

"Number 8"

Margrette Hargrevees sure thing hadn't cried in more than ten years, but she was close to doing so because of the amount of rage that was building up inside her body. Upon the certainty that she was dangerously close to losing it, the woman decided to make her way towards her dressing room in order to calm herself down, if not, everything would've soon turned into chaos. Margrette really didn't want to hurt anyone that night, well, to rephrase that, she actually really wanted to but knew that if she did that would bring a lot of unpleasant consequences, meaning more lawyers into her life, which she really didn't need at the moment.

The way in which she was taking her make up off could've been considered for some as violent while others would've simply called it rough. Either way, it was really just her own way of getting her emotions to cool down, with no much success that was.

Two knocks on the door told her someone wanted to see her, but she chose to ignore them; whoever it was behind that white door should know better than to try and reach her in moments like that one, and if they didn't, that clearly meant they didn't know her enough to even be near the dressing room. They knocked again and she did just as before. When the third round of knocking started Margrette shouted for them to come in, her patience levels running low.

Fearful, the company's director, Richard Waltz popped his head inside. The blonde guessed he was checking if everything was still standing inside the medium sized room, for she tended to break things when feeling upset. She didn't even turn to look at him, seeing a glimpse of his face through the mirror was enough to worsen her mood. To say she wasn't on good terms with Richard would be an euphemism, especially since what had happened last time they were in the same room together. He had more courage than she gave him credit to for showing his pathetic, pug, white face inside her dressing room.

"What?" she snapped. It infuriated her when people looked for her and then stayed silent waiting for her to start conversation.

"Can we talk?"

"No"

"Margrette… is… it is kind of important"

She gave him a smile full of irony, one he was able to see through the mirror too. His body was still outside, the door halfway closed and he seemed tense.

"Well, I don't wanna hear it!" she suddenly turned, making the idiot jump; if she were less pissed, she'd have laughed "Did you see that right? She fucking pushed me! ME! The fucking lead! I've been here for more years she can count to, she pops out of nowhere two months into the season and you're still going to do shit about it because she's your new cool girl, right, Waltz?"

She could clearly see the discomfort showing on his face, every single word aggravating his frown; that only made her glad, since that was what she was going for. Margrette knew he knew that what she was telling was true, for they had been very close in the past. She had, too, once been his cool girl as well, just legally.

"Margs… stop"

"Don't 'Margs' me. You saw that. Everyone in the audience was able to see that. You'd have to be fucking blind not to see that"

Despite the fact that she was yelling and swearing and saying every single offensive thing that came into her mind as she ran that cloth round her face, he remained calm, which wasn't usual on him, so she could tell something big was she consider herself to be indeed a very intuitive person, and the fact that she had created a theory during the last couple of months, she decided to stop doing whatever it was she was doing to her skin, and faced her ex-husband right in the eye.

"You're going to fire me. That's what you want to talk about"

"What?" he seemed confused "No, Margs, no. Listen to me-

She smiled, really not believing this situation was happening to her. That was it. He was going to fire her, after all those years. She really should have seen that coming from way sooner, after all, wasn't she smart? He was a man; naturally he would take every single one of her good years to only dismiss her like a dog when his new little girlfriend appeared. It was all so obvious, all the signs had been there; the new cool girl making it as a major role with the little experience she held and her terrible, horrible, disgusting technique; the lack of information he provided about touring two months ago; the way he was treating her right there, like she was ought to be threaten with care. She laughed bitterly, feeling the most stupid she had in years. It was official, Margrette Hargreeves was being replaced with a plainer, dumber and younger version of herself and she won't be allowed to do shit about it.

"Unbelievable" she mumbled among with laughter.

"Margrette, it's about your father"

That was icebreaking. Of course the bare mention of Reginald Hargreeves could make anyone that knew him stop doing whatever they were doing to pay attention, no matter who, and Margrette, being his daughter, and stopped laughing right away. First thing that crossed her mind was that the dear old monocle had done something to fuck her life up again, and she really was not having it, not that night.

"What about him?"

"I- Um, maybe you would like some coffee first so-"he began rambling. She hated when he did that, she had told him many times, in fact.

"Richard. Tell me now." She cut him off bluntly.

"He- He's dead, Margs"

Well, she was not expecting that. It seemed as if the news had frozen her; her face lacking from any kind of emotion, as if she was thinking of something far far away, which was the case. In fact, Richard Waltz wasn't even sure she was listening to him when he began talking again.

"I-I- was thinking you may not want to finish tonight because of it, and I completely understand it. You can take as many weeks as you like. Uhm-

"No. I'll do the final act" she answered bluntly; clearly had been listening.

"Margs, there's seriously no need. We've got a replacement for tonight, don't worry about it"

And just as she was about to reconsider it, just for the sake of it and to get Richard to quit talking to her so she could go home and think about the new information she had just come to find, she heard that voice; that nasal, stupid, French accented voice that came from next to her ex-husband. It was obvious he realized too, judging by the way he flinched, that the owner of that voice had made a huge mistake by making herself present, and he could only confirm that the minute he looked into Margrette's cold brown eyes. Next to him, there was her wannabe; that twenty year old twat that had ruined her performance earlier and who was now having sex with her former husband. She really wasn't on the mood to deal with that.

"I'll do it" she said eagerly, before realizing all the chaos those words were about to cause "I mean… If-if you need to rest-

And she was never able to finish that sentence because Margrette Hargrevees had had it with her talking, smashing her own head against the big mirror that she had used only a few minutes ago, making the brunette immediately fall to the ground, a fair amount of blood coming out of her skull, but Margrette was pretty positive she hadn't killed her. Of course Richard was lying in the ground trying to help the Frenchie and that lame little act only caused Margrette to roll her eyes.

"It's me who you should be helping" she said while getting some glass out of her skin with the tips of her fingers and cleaning some of the blood off it with her white bathrobe "My father just died"

"You're crazy!" he yelled.

"And you just noticed?"

She would have loved to say she gave the best performance of her life after that argument, a dramatic touch, but to be quite honest it was pretty average, to say least. The public still adored it, because even when average, she was better than thousands of others. She had been the swan queen for nearly five years now, and that's a title she planned to maintain for at least another decade if her body allowed her.

Margrette had almost gone to jail that night. Luckily she still kept those sexual videotapes from College years that her ex-husband had foolishly trusted her with on those years when they had been nothing but a happy naïve couple who believed were going to last. With the bare mention of it, all she had left to do to keep him and the French girl quiet was to take a little break for a few weeks, to let things die off, something she actually needed.

When she opened the door to let herself into her apparent it was already late, close to midnight. Traffic in New York surely was crazy. She was lucky her penthouse wasn't too far away from the theater. Waiting for her, over the couch there was her only friend.

"Hi, Mia" Margrette greeted her, leaning down to caress her tiny white head "Did you miss me?"

Of course, a meow was all she got, but that was enough for her, making her smile slightly.

After feeding the cat and turning some lights on, so the big place wouldn't feel as cold as it did, she went to bed, hoping to be asleep as soon as she closed her eyes for she didn't have the energy to think about anything. At the end of the day, she fell asleep immediately but was unable to be comfortable even in her own dreams because her father's face was all she could see.

oooooooo

Strange as it may sound; him being as old as he was, Margrette never really pictured her father dying. She knew most people thought about the day when their beloved or loathed mommy and daddy died and what they would say at their funeral or what kind of service that would be but nope, not her. In her head there was not a moment when she would be freed from Reginald Hargreeve's cold stare. He was always there, so naturally, she had never felt more lost in her life than when she was about to enter the very same house she swore to never go back to after she ran away so many years ago.

Of course the second she set foot over the perfect polished marmot floors she really had to fight the huge feeling of nostalgia the whole building held and that penetrated her body like thousands of knives. Yes, she had to admit it, she used to be really happy there; perhaps the happiest she had ever been, but so she was equally miserable, and sometimes, more miserable than happy. Were all those years of torture and trauma really worth it? She wasn't sure yet, and she thought she'd never be, since she had been asking that question to herself for years now (and so had her therapist).

The Hargreeves mansion was beautiful, there was really no use denying it. Margrette is aware most children would have been lucky to grow up in a place such as that one, or so she had been told by other people. The problem was that the expensive walnut wood furniture did not reflect the amount of pain those walls had endured; neither did the Tiffany chandeliers and lamps, or the many antiques that surrounded each corner of the place. Margrette believed that if half of the people who had told her she should be more grateful for the childhood she got knew what the entire family was put through as a price for that lifestyle, they would shut their filthy mouths in less than a second.

Just as she started to run her index finger over one of the big portraits held on the wall, just in front the fireplace, she felt another presence near. She turned around, backing the very much accurate portrait of her once long lost thirteen year old brother whom Margrette hadn't seen in years, to face another one of her brothers, one she also, hadn't seen in years. Some little distance away from Margrette there stood number 2, with his brows raised and arms crossed.

"Diego"

"Sister… aren't you supposed to be spinning around in tights for the Nutcracker?"

She rolled her eyes but could not help but smile, that being the first joke she had heard in weeks. She slowly walked towards him, hoping her best to look threatening… but with a guy like Diego, that's difficult to achieve, even for Margrette.

"Aren't you supposed to be on set for the new spy kids' movie?"

One would think that wearing such a silly outfit every single day of his life would make him used to mocking comments such as that one. Apparently it didn't, judging by his frown. She completely ignored his annoyance and walked close enough so she could rest the corner of her lips against his cheek and one hand against his left arm. If there was something Diego and Margrette agreed on was that they didn't do hugs, so that sign of fondness as a greeting was enough for both of them.

"Has anyone else arrived?" She finally asked, breaking the touch and standing next to him "Besides Luther, of course. I'm sure he must've been here even before dad died or something, a number one kind of sixth sense, or something like it"

Diego chuckled, his eyes shrinking because of his smile.

"Well, you're not wrong; he got here about an hour before. But about the rest, I don't think so. Mom's in the kitchen, tho. I'm sure she'll like to see you"

Margrette nodded.

"Yeah, I'll drop my stuff and then go say hi to mom. Do you know where Pogo is?"

And just as her brother was about to answer, she saw Pogo himself descending from the stairs, bringing a smile to her face immediately. If there was one person who she felt completely comfortable with, that was Pogo, although he wasn't exactly a person. Whenever she would get into fights with the rest of her siblings as kids and thought of it like the end of the world, Pogo would be the one to say the right words so she would soon stop feeling bad about it.

"It's good seeing you here, Miss Margrette, despite such pitiful circumstances"

She nodded while walking towards him so she could give him a quick hug. He looked the same as he did when she had left the academy; hadn't aged a day. Good genetics those apes, she thought.

"It's good seeing you too, Pogo"

"I'm sorry about last night. I believed you were kindly helped to fall, according to what I read on the New York Times this morning."

Margrette smiled.

"Don't be. I got her back" she winked at him "and thanks for always been there."

She noticed Diego lifting an eyebrow, amusement coming off him. He clearly wanted to know in what way she had gotten her revenge, having always considered his sister to be one of the creative type.

"Let's just say she will wake up with a little headache"

Both Margrette and her brother snorted slightly with amusement while Pogo denied with his head disapprovingly, but the woman was able to catch a hint of a smile forming on his face. Margrette could also notice that her newly appearance in the Academy had done nothing but lighten up Pogo's mood, which she guessed could've been previously affected by her father's passing, since they were both good friends and Pogo, at last, thought highly of Reginald.

"Good to see you haven't changed, Miss Margrette. I believe your room is still left untouched from when you left"

"Then I better go and leave my things"

Walking pass all those corridors and stairs was quite an experience. Everything reminded her of her father and the rest of her siblings, all of them. They had spent plenty of days playing around, or simply training or getting their assess up to some mischief more often than not; and of course there had always also been a whole lot of crying, justified or not, around those corridors.

Her nostalgia levels got even worse the second she set foot into her old room. Pogo had been right, not a thing was moved or altered from it. The pretty pink floral wallpaper, lima green beanbag, the ugly piggy bank, all of her teddy bears and her giant CD player were black there, so were her books, but what astonished her the most, was the fact that her bed was just as it was when she left it that morning, unmade. Slowly she ran her hand over the floral covers, all full of wrinkles and clothes on top of it, and she sat down; they really hadn't touched anything from there in more than a decade. Even the pair of socks on the floor that her mum picked up each morning were still there, and so was an open diet coca cola can with a straw on it, over her white vanity table which she could only assume she decided to drink at some point ten years ago and the leave it there, to evaporate. Yikes. She was confident her cleaning habits had gotten better with years.

She'd have liked to blame it on the fact that she was really tired after a six hours flight from New York when she felt like it wasn't really that gross to lay her head over what could potentially be a really contaminated bed. She swore she was only going to close her eyes for a second but… yeah; once again, it shall be reminded the she was really tired. When she woke up, she was unsure of how long she had slept for but Margrette wasn't one to usually remember much of her dreams, and this time she was able to recall some colours, so that meant something. She remembered, however, feeling an inch on the tip of her nose that she so desperately wanted to get rid of, hence why she woke up. When she open her eyes again she found herself face to face with the dreamiest face one could ever encounter. If those eyes weren't cover on eyeliner they could easily pass out as a child's, full of light.

"Hello to you, sleeping beauty"

Instinctively Margrette had to roll her eyes and shake her head, messing up with her hair even more. No matter how excited she actually was to see that one person in particular, she had really been woken me up from a really pleasant nap after two months of not sleeping over five hours a day.

"Hi, Klaus"

He smiled widely and got himself up from the floor where he was kneeling from, grabbed one of her arms and managed to get her to sit in the process. She yawned and stretched her arms, knowing there was no going back to sleep with her brother there. He sat cross-legged over her bed too, right in front of her, just as they used to do when they were kids and played hand games.

"You look so beautiful. I like your hair better this way"

She laughed softly. It had been a long time ever since she got a compliment from someone who mattered to her. She guessed being married to an idiot and her incapacity to make and maintain friends didn't help her get many either.

"So you have told me"

"That's because it looks good. Just like a princess" he said on a dreamy voice, while touching one of her curls, making the last word sound really high pitched and dramatic. He turned around and rested the back of his head over his sister's legs, leaving his own long ones to lie over until the end of the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off since they didn't really fit and had to hang lose.

Margrette smiled. That definitely felt just like when they were younger, a few inches taller probably. He closed his eyes and she could feel how peaceful he actually was, and could see it too. She felt the most peaceful she had in years too. Soon, she began running her fingers over his hair and forehead, just as they always used to do, because she knew that it soothed him. They were both calm at that moment and knew each other's presence had a lot to do with it.

"You know why I love funerals?" he muttered.

"Why?"

He smiled.

"Because all my clothes are black"

She smiled with fun and then they went quiet for a bit. They spent those silent moments to relax, and in her case, to appreciate her dear brother who she wished could see more and who she was angry at for not taking better care of himself, but then again, he could say the same thing about her.

"You seem tired."

He hummed as an answer

"I got a call from the rehab center. They let you out yesterday, isn't that right?"

He hummed again

"Have you eaten anything since?"

He denied with his head and Margrette rolled her eyes, hitting him hard on the forehead, making him frown but his eyes managed to keep unopened. Mood didn't change, however; he was still feeling quite at ease despite everything.

"Well, that's stupid of you. Did you spend all the food money for this month on drugs already?" he was about to answer, Margrette didn't let him. She hit him again on the same spot as last time and noticed him become anxious a second after the D word was mentioned "Klaus! That was a lot!"

He opened his eyes and quickly gave up his comfortable position to jump right at her, lean over and hug her from the neck, almost knocking her down in the process.

"I know! But I owed some cash to some people... But if you had some more right now I- "

That was it. She rolled her eyes and pushed him away, before giving him a cold stare. However, as much as Isabella really wanted to be pissed at him for his immature choices, just looking at those big starry eyes didn't allow her to be so. That still didn't mean she was giving him more money so he could get high to the roof, she was familiar to his antics. So Margrette, stood up, deciding it was time to finally join the rest of the house and getting her brother a sandwich. She could hide in the comfort of her room some time later.

"If you decide to make poor choices with your money then that's your own problem" She handed her hand over to him "Come on, I'm sure mom can make us something to snack on. I'm starving too" and of course, he quickly took it.

As they were walking downstairs, they kept chatting about many different things and subjects, just as they always had. It's fair to say and no secret to anyone that Klaus was Margrette's absolute best friend, as she was his. Just as Luther was close to Allison, Klaus and Margrette had each other. There were multiple reasons why they felt more comfortable around each other than they did with anyone else, but each one of them was just as special as the previous one.

It was indeed a recurrent thought for Margrette how much she wished to see more of him around the year, but she had to learnt sooner than later that some things were how they were for a reason. They had tried sticking together at the beginning: they ran away from home with not much knowledge of the world, with no other family they knew of to run to for help; during those times, they shared a flat in the city for a whole year, in which she was busy perfectioning her dancing and he got lost into the comfort parties, alcohol and drugs provided him, both living off the money they had stolen from their father.

Sometimes she blamed herself for Klaus' addiction, maybe if she hadn't been as career focused as she was, he would've turned up differently, but at the time she needed to make a living out of something since they didn't know much more than what their father had taught them to do. When she got her first real job in the London Company eleven months after, she took Klaus with her, but his addiction was already too big at that point and he fitted more in the streets than he did in a house. Soon they realized that their lives were simply not compatible anymore; he returned to the same apartment they used to live at and she remained in England for about a year. After that she moved to New York, which made things easier for both of them since they could at least see each other during most Christmas, although those weren't always as successful as one would like them to be. That and all, Klaus was the only one of her siblings to whom she was regularly in contact with, talking over the phone at least once a month and on every single birthday.

When she started making money and he didn't, she began paying for his apartment, which was the same one they used to share at the beginning, not that he found much use for it at that point in his life. She also paid for food, knowing her brother probably spent most of it on drugs, but not wanting him to starve if she didn't. Some people claimed they didn't know how she put up with her brother's behavior, and it must be understood that by some people, we're referring to her ex-husband and other siblings, but it was simply impossible not to look over some things Klaus did when you shared a bond like the ones they did. Besides, Margrette knew putting up with her behavior wasn't easy thing to do either, and he did it just fine without complaing; her three ex-husbands should've taken lessons from him.

At the living room, Margrette let go off her brother's hand so she could walk towards the one person who had always, without excuses, looked after her.

"Mom?"

When she didn't respond the first time, just as she usually would, the Havergrees girl could feel something was odd with her. You see, the Havergrees's mom, she's not a normal mom. She's a supermom, designed to look after super kids: like Margrette, and her brothers and sister. Despite that, and what her instincts told her, she decided the whole funeral thing was itself one of the oddest situations ever, so Margrette chose to ignore it. Everyone could have a bad day, even her mother, who was a robot.

"Hey mom, I've missed you" She said, leaning over her chair, so she could place a kiss on her mother's forehead "Are you okay?"

It took her a moment to react to her child's words and presence, but when she did, she smiled warmly at her, just like she always had, letting her see her bright teeth.

"Hello, Margie" she said while touching her hair "You are keeping it brown!"

"Yes, just like you like it. Natural"

"I like whatever it is that you like, darling"

Margrette smiled again and touched her mother's cheek. Although she wouldn't admit it to anyone but the woman herself, she had definitely missed her only motherly figure after almost ten years of not seeing her. Mamma could always make her feel better. If it had been up to her, she'd had liked to see more of her, damn, she'd have liked to take her mom with her, but Grace was confined to the house, right at Reginald's side.

Just as she was about to ask something, her stomach made the loudest noise ever heard on earth, so her mom just smiled and offered to make her a quick sandwich, which Margrette accepted, not without mentioning Klaus could use one too. She guessed one sandwich wouldn't hurt too much.

As she stood up again and turned to call for Klaus, the girl realized that the her brother had left her and it did occur to her what he might be doing while in her absence, after all, he did have to pay for his pills. When she turned back to say something to her mother, she noticed Grace was gone too, but knew she probably was in the kitchen making her favourite type of sandwich, one she hadn't had in years: peanut butter and raspberry jelly, no crust, triangle shaped cut. The thought almost made her smile.

Since it was her first and likely last moment by herself in the house, considering she'd probably run into Luther or Pogo or someone else later, Margrette decided she could dedicate that moment to the one person who made her who she was, without distractions. Really, she had to admit it; no matter how much of a bastard Reginald Hargreeve was when alive, he had also been her father in all rights, and she would be lying if she said he hadn't influenced her regarding many aspects of her life; wanted or not.

Walking into his room was a strange feeling, since she had only been there in one occasion when hiding from her siblings while playing hide & seek; of course Reginald caught her hiding there, which resulted on her hearing the phrase 'This is unacceptable number 8' many many times. His bed was unmade, just as hers was, and Isabella could picture him laying there, the poor man, probably the only moment in his whole life when he seemed at ease. She looked around at all his things and confirmed, once again, that her father had been no ordinary man. He had been a smart person who had built an empire but was left to die by himself, alone, leaving his own children wondering if it was appropriate or not to cry for his lost.

Second place number eight decided to pay a visit to was his study. A place she had only seen from the other side of a door frame, along with all the other Havergrees children when waiting so they could get their goodnights, which more often than not, weren't delivered back. She knew that in the hypothetical case any of her brothers or sisters had ever been allowed to set foot inside, that'd have been probably Luther, her father's number 1.

And speaking of the devil…

"Allison" She smiled to her now surprised sister and brother, who were unaware there was another person there "Luther"

"Hey, Margie" he said, clearly not used to seeing her there, in the same physical space as his. "How'd you get here so fast? Thought you were in New York"

Of course she had to give him her so particular 'are you joking' me' kind of face. Margrette thought that for being number one and the Academy's golden boy, her dear brother surely wasn't the brightest at times.

"Weren't you in the moon?"

"Hi Margs" Allison said with a warm smile, enjoying the conversation her siblings were having, while going over for a hug.

Yes, Margrette had feared that moment. Allison sure thing was a hugger, and her hugs lasted for ages and she somehow managed to make them feel fairly okey-ish; and Margrette didn't like that.

"You look good" she smiled once they broke the embrace and then took a longer look at her sister "Have you lost some weight?"

Margrette hugged her frame with her right arm, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable when having all the people in the room staring at her in such a way. However, she waited no timeto answer.

"I don't think so. I've been working quite hard, so maybe that's it" she smiled "How's life in the spotlight, sis?"

She smiled tiredly.

"You know, I can't complain."

And as one of them was about to ask something, Luther, who hated feeling left out, began talking.

"You know what? I think we should start with a meeting. Now all of us are here. We've got some important matters to discuss"

Margrette raised an eyebrow

"All of us? Even-

"Yup, even Vanya" Allison replied.

"Wow" she said "Maybe she'll sign up my book"

That caused a chuckle from all Havergrees present in the room. Dear old Vanya had costed Margrette months of trophy, because hating your own sister is no easy thing to live with. On month number six the ballerina had decided that she really couldn't blame all her problems on Vanya and her infuriating book, so she made the decision to forgive her, she just hadn't had the chance to tell her in five years.

Luther offered to get the rest of the boys while his sisters should go and get Vanya and they would all meet in the living room and have a proper talk after years of not even seeing each other's faces for some. It felt a little surreal.

Walking along Allison was a strange feeling for Margrette at first, since despite never having any valid reason to, none of them had seen each other in ages and knew very little about the other's life, although they had grown to know every single quirk there was about one another when they were children. Sure, they sent cards for Christmas and flowers for premieres and awards ceremonies, but apart from that, all the connection the sisters had had in the last ten years was minimum. Margrette didn't even know her niece; she had been invited to do so once, but after she made up an excuse for it, she never received another one.

Last time they saw each other had been three years ago at a charity gala one of their husband's mutual friend had invited them to. Of course none of them knew the other was going, if that had been the case, they wouldn't have ended up crashing into each other while wearing flapper girl dresses in Beverly Hills. They talked a bit but Margrette had been feeling ill for quite a while and that night she had to leave early to go and get some rest. Of course the paparazzi's went crazy with pictures of the two of them smiling at each other while holding hands with their oh so good looking husbands; they got a blast.

"So… you got divorced"

"Yup. So did you, or so I heard"

"Yup."

They snorted, glad that conversation was feeling awkward for both of them and not just one way. Last time they had seen each other, they at least had the company of their partners and many other people as a distraction; right there in that part of the house, it was just the two of them and their very different personalities.

"Us Hargreeves suck at marriage, don't we?" Allison joked, making her sister smile.

"I guess we're not keepers" to that, the dark skinned girl laughed too.

"So… why didn't you and Nate work?" she then asked, looking at her sister right in the face, slowering her pace, because since they were actually making conversation she didn't want it to end too soon.

Margrette was debating whereas if she should tell her anything, why did her sister even need to know about her screwed up life anyway? Wasn't she already happy with the fact that she maintained her title as the perfect Hargrevees girl? Ignoring what she admitted to be bitter thoughts, Margrette decided that after not seeing Allison for so long, she really couldn't begin their first real conversation with an argument, so she told her the true. After all, chances were she probably already knew the reason anyway.

"You know… my temper… his temper… He was too absorbed on his music and he was often away which made me upset which naturally, made him upset and moody … and everything becomes stressful once you reach a certain age in ballet, so naturally I was moodier than normal. Yeah, you can figure"

Allison stood silent for a while, trying to decide if she should say what was on her mind or not. At the end, she said it, after all, they were family: "Yeah… but I still don't think that's enough reason for you to try and suffocate him with your pillow. For three whole minutes"

Margrette rolled her eyes at that and smiled proudly.

"Yeah, but cheating is. I'm glad you're still catching up with the rumors." She smiled to her sister, in a way that told Allison she had made a huge mistake by bringing up such a delicate subject "But don't worry, I got a full album. Some women don't even get an apology call" she ranted and then smiled again, on an attempt to lower her annoyance, telling herself her sister had meant no harm by asking "So… why didn't you and Patrick work out?"

"Uhm… that's… It's complicated."

There was a short but highly uncomfortable silence.

"I see"

Did it hurt that her own sister didn't feel like sharing her problems with her after she did? No, Margrette Hargreeves didn't think that was the case. Did it bother her? Hell yes. The fact that Allison's secrets could remain hidden just because she said the word, while Margrette's ended up in every single tabloid in the bloody country for weeks, bothered her a whole deal, no point denying it. She had forgotten how intense it was her annoyance at Allison's little power.

None of them got really much time to think about the awkward conversation they just had because soon they spotted their remaining sister standing right in front of them, her back against them, staring at who knew what, pretty typical of Vanya, they thought. Margrette was really glad to see her because that meant that she didn't have to be alone with Allison anymore.

"Vanya" she said

The short girl turned around nervously and both of her sisters were able to see years hadn't treated her any good. It was quite a contrast, really, because while the three of them shared fairly good looks, both Allison and Margrette's careers relayed on their image, meaning they made it their daily mission to look presentable for people to see; whereas Vanya…

"Hey, Margie" she said, hands in her pockets. Margrette could see that she was trying to calm herself down, her face showing evident signs of nervousness, so, feeling bad for her; she decided to help a bit. "I- I was just

"Shut up, Vanya" the girl said with half a smile, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes "Let's go, our number one feels like having a meeting" she then rested her cold hand over her sister's back, slowly pushing her towardsthe living room while feeling her relax a little bit.

Allison followed them close behind.

oooooooo

Margrette sat on one end of the sofa, Vanya sitting on the other one. The taller Hargrevees just couldn't help but to smile when she realized that she had been right; Luther did happen to be the one who visited their father's study. Surprise, surprise, number 1 was the favourite all along, who would've thought? of course none of that mattered now because their father was dead.

"That looks divine on you, darling" She said to her brother while he extended his hand and held unto hers, letting himself fall between both female Hargreeves

"Such a shame that you're so tiny! Yours were marvelous too"

His sister laughed, hoping he hadn't made a mess with her luggage as he had surely done with Allison's. Without even telling him, she stole the cup from his hand and swallowed whatever was inside, only to discover it was vodka and it was pretty strong. Margrette returned it to him with a frown and he continued on drinking it without any problem, already used to the flavour.

There was a lot of talking of which she really didn't pay much attention to, her mind feeling a little dizzy to focus when too many people talked at the same time. She did, however, catch on the fact that Luther suggested Klaus should try and communicate with their deceased father, and that made her feel like rolling her eyes. Such plan was the proof she needed to confirm that her big brother hadn't been around planet earth in a long time, for if he had, he would know Klaus's junkie ass has been unable to do many things for quite a few years.

What came out of her brother's mouth next, well that was unbelievable. If everyone else hadn't been yelling at him, she'd have liked to give him a good slap or two but didn't do it since she thought everyone should get the same amount of power when it came to telling him off.

"He thinks one of us killed dad"

Margrette was aware that she could've tried to defeat the indignation, anger and disbelief that hung in the air, but she didn't want to. Her brother deserved to feel every ounce of rage any of their siblings could be feeling after implying such absurd and ill meant things. If anything, all she did was raise up everyone's emotions a little.

"You're a first class asshole" she sprouted as she got up from the sofa and left her siblings to keep on telling him off.

"Way to lead"

"That's not what I'm saying…"

"You're crazy man. Crazy. Crazy"

"I'm not finish"

"Well wait, I'm just going to murder mum I'll be right back"

One by one, they all left Luther by himself in the room.

When climbing the stairs on her way to her bedroom, she almost fainted, remembering she hadn't had any solid meals in more than twenty four hours, so she decided to go and check if that PB&J sandwich was still waiting for her in the kitchen, and not to her surprise, it was. She grabbed it and walked outside, sat next to Ben's statue, so she could be alone and eat in silence and far away from anyone's curious eyes, trying to calm herself down from her brother's idiocies; not an easy task, and that came from someone who had years of practice in it.

Next to the sculpture made in honor of her deceased little brother, Margrette Hargreeves remembered of the times when everything was easier, simpler; times when her siblings weren't accusing each other of murdering their own father. She recalled their first mission together: the bank heist. She remembered how they had all been so excited to show off their powers; to do some good to the world. She remembered number three telling that man to shoot his friend on the foot; she remembered five, changing his gun for a stapler and how much they laughed about it later at home, for weeks; she remembered one, throwing one of the heaviest heist men out of the window; number two with his knives; and number six, of course, doing what he was good at, eliminating bad people. And of course, Margrette remembered herself, along with number four's help, clearly; he'd distract them so she could grab them and then they'd run and hide, so she could do her job.

Then, she heard music and thought why not? She felt like dancing while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. So she did.

oooooooo

First she felt the thunder, then, a strong wind. Well, it wasn't exactly wind… it was more… of like a magnetic force dragging things towards it. And then, all of her siblings were next to her and the sky was a weird hue of blue. As strange as everything was until that point, it got even worse the moment Klaus decided to throw that fire extinguisher into what Luther thought could potentially be a black hole.

"What is that gonna do?"

"I don't know! Do you have a better idea?"

Next thing she knows, Diego is pulling her behind him. Maybe if she hadn't been distracted by the fact that a human was literally being pushed out of that black hole, she'd have complained about her brother's old antics of trying to protect the rest of them or at least, laughed about it, but she did none for she couldn't take her eyes off the sky.

It is important for anyone who's reading this to know that the said human being pushed from that apparent black hole was no other but number five, another Hargrevees, the one who had disappeared sixteen years ago.

"Does anyone else see little number five or is it just me?"

The surprise was so big that half of the sandwich was dropped on the wet ground. Margrette liked to think of herself as a strong woman who could not make a big deal out of situations; finding your long lost brother coming out of the sky and looking like if not a day had passed after sixteen years should not be any different, but the fact that her sugar levels were slow could only provoke one thing: Margrette Hargrevees fell too, looking like she was finally getting some of the rest she needed, Diego catching her to stop her head from smashing the ground.

"Isn't this a nice family reunion" Klaus said while dropping on his knees next to his sister, to hold her hand, making sure she wasn't dead.

oooooooo

"Unbelievable" Margrette muttered while letting herself drop back unto her still very unmade bed, feeling incredulous and trying to focus her eyes into the white ceiling in order to calm her mind. She had tried getting up twice before but that only made her feel dizzier than before, so she guessed all there was left to do for her, was to wait "Can you believe that?" she asked while taking a long look at Klaus.

They had just received a very complicated explanation from their just returned brother but none of the remaining Hargrevees had understood a word Five had said. However, Klaus clearly didn't seem to mind that much or to be even paying attention to anything his sister said. Instead, he found himself opening every single little box or drawer there was in her room. If she hadn't been as shocked as she currently was, she would've probably told him off.

"Klaus!" she yelled, flicking her head with her index finger, producing an immediate response from the boy, making him jump.

"What do you mean? Five coming back or you passing out?"

She rolled her eyes

"Five coming back, you idiot"

"Yeah… I know… pretty… uncommon. Right?"

"Yeah, that's one way to call it."

He shrugged, still looking for something among his sister's things, but at least he was now paying a bit of attention to her, or so she wanted to believe.

"For a solid second definitely thought I had gained a new permanent resident" he informed carelessly, while taking a grab of her piggy bank, a huge smile taking over his face "Mind If I use this?"

"Be my guest" she replied with a sigh and then heard the crash.

"Gosh you were a stingy child" he muttered while picking up the several coins that laid on the floor.

And as she left her brother rummage through her things in the hopes of finding more money, Margrette really tried analyzing what just tried thinking about the last time she spoke to him, really spoke to him, and that took her back to the day before he left, when they were making bets about which one of them could get Luther annoyed the fastest; of course that bet was never completed because he decided to jump sixty years into the future the next morning.

She also cursed at herself for being so stupid as to pass out in front of all her siblings. She should've eaten something, but she simply forgot and the hunger wasn't too bad after years of dieting. Who knew how pathetic she must have looked back there, just like a child. The worst part of it all was having Diego's face just in front of her when she regained consciousness, telling her off the minute he made her assure him she was feeling fine, stuffing a coke on her face.

Despite all, with all the questions and incertitudes it implied, she really thought that number five being back was a good thing. It felt, somehow, like things were going back to normal, on a really strange kind way, and things going back to normal of course meant trouble was ahead.

oooooooo

The day had the perfect vibe for a funeral. It seemed as if Reginald Hargrevees had picked the most miserable day of the year and decided to die on it as his last wish. It was cold, foggy and raining, and no matter how warm her cashmere black sweater was or how thick her coat was, Margrette was freezing, always being cool blooded.

"Did something happen?"

"Dad died. Rememeber?"

"Oh. Yes, of course."

All Hargreeves present shared a long look with each other after hearing the exchange of words her mother and sister had just had. That so didn't sound like mom at all, they thought. Grace was supposed to be aware about everything going on around the house, yet she seemed so human at that moment, just like them. Since it was a funeral, they ignored it.

After Pogo gave his consent the ceremony began. Number one did the honors, as he was supposed to. Margrette Hargrevees was not an expert on funerals, having missed the only one she actually had had the obligation of attending in the past, but from what she knew from movies and books, they were supposed to come along with a little bit of drama; but no, not Reginald's for what it seemed like. When Luther dropped the ashes to the ground, instead of flying away to give them some kind of metaphor about their father's soul moving on, it fell flat on the ground. Pretty lame, if you asked them.

"Does anybody wish to speak?" Pogo asked.

As he noticed none of the deceased's children were about to open our mouths, he decided to be the one to do it, as expected.

"Well… In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master… and my friend, and I shall miss him very much"

Maybe he thought she hadn't seen it, but Isabella looked at Luther just the right second he let that solitaire tear escape out of his eye. She knew that upon presenting a scene what was natural for a sister was to feel bad for her brother upon seeing him in so much pain, or at least think about how her father's death affected her too, but instead, she couldn't help but feel lots of anger: of course his precious number one would be the one to cry at his funeral; he had always been treated way better than she got treated, he had reasons to cry, she wasn't unsure she did.

"He leaves behind a complicated legacy-

"He was a monster" Diego said and Klaus laughed "He was a bad person and a worse father. The world's better off without him"

"Diego"

"My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had mom do it."

Thanks God for Diego, she thought, because if it wasn't him, she'd be torturing herself years after for not having said them herself when she should've. Every single word he was saying, Margrette felt as if she was saying herself, because she believed them to be true. She thought that it was indeed easy to cry for him and claim he was a wonderful man who loved orphans so much that he decided to adopt eight of them and buy them ice cream and take them to the park and play some ball, but that was only if you were actually treated decently by him, but not all of them got that version of Reginald Hargreeves. Now, don't get her wrong, she didn't think Luther or Allison or Number Five got it a lot better, but they did get it easier than the rest of them for some reason, and that was a fact.

"Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was."

"You should stop taking now"

"You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One.

"I am warning you"

"After everything he did to you… He had to ship you a million miles away."

"Diego stop talking"

"That's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!" he said that while touching Luther's chest with his finger, and everyone knew where to doing something like that leaded.

Margrette rolled her eyes and decided it was time to share some of her wisdom and cut with their drama before someone got actually hurt. She simply didn't have the energy to deal with the tons of energies and feelings that'd be around if they actually got into a physical fight.

"Okay, you two stop it. Two grown up men and you just have to get into a bloody fight on our father's funeral over who did daddy love less. Can't you two just suppress your feelings and make bad choices because of them later in life just like everyone else?" She sprouted, making both of them pay attention to her for a few moments which she supposed wouldn't last, if she knew her brothers even tried cooling down their emotions, but was unsuccessful to since she was quite upset too.

Just as she had envisioned, despite what she thought was a fairly good speech, things got messier. She didn't even flinch when the first punch was thrown. She didn't see Klaus put his arm in front of Number five and her, in order to protect them, as much as that did piss the younger boy because she was still trying to calm herself down in order to do the same with her brothers once she achieved , she felt too tired and too cold, and gave up the second they crashed Ben's statue against the ground, knowing there was no damn way she'd calm down after that.

"idiots" she muttered before walking away to go and hide in her room until her anger died out, just like the good all days when she was a teen, only difference was she wasn't dealing with puberty now.

oooooooo

It was then she'd take a bath because it always helped calming her down, and then she'd let herself relax in bed since after asking permission, Grace had changed the sheets which smelled just like the softener she'd been using ever since the kids were kids. When she got out of her bath, It was safe to say Margrette felt very calm, although It took quite an effort not to think about Ben's smashed statue, which was triggering.

Before that, in the shower, she found herself having a dilemma. She wondered if it really was that bad that she actually felt sad about losing her father after all he ever did to her was yelling and forcing her into scary situations so she could 'meet my full potential'? Was she really that stupid for still somehow, caring about a man like that? She didn't like labeling herself as stupid, quite the opposite, she took pride on being smart… but there she was, sad about the fact that she'd never see her father again, despite the fact that she'd also done her very best to avoid him during many years of her saying went right, a father is a father, no matter what, and Reginald Hargreeves was Margrette's.

She looked at her right wrist one last time before getting up to get some water. She decided those three minutes she spent looking at her tattoo would be dedicated to her about my father, and that would be all.

oooooooo

As Number Five roomed through the kitchen's cabinets and drawers, his sister, Number Eight observed him. He had obviously had no luck finding whatever he was looking for, but since he hasn't asked for help she wasn't going to offer. Either way, whatever it was what he was looking for, she really couldn't seem to keep her eyes off him; it was really a strange picture to see him moving around in that little uniform again.

"Where's Vanya?" Allison asked.

"Oh… she's gone"

"That's unfortunate" Number Five said while holding a flask with something in it "An entire square block. Forty two bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee"

"Dad hated caffeine" Allison reminded him.

"Well, he hated children, too, and he had plenty of us" Klaus made a laugh and Margrette just couldn't help but not to smile at the comment while she stood up.

"I agree with Five. I'm jet lagged, my father has just died and my head hurts from feeling all your little dumb emotions today." She informed with a cynical smile while grabbing her white fluffy coat "Grab a jacket, Five"

"Why?" he asked.

"We're taking the car" she said, already halfway out of the kitchen

"Where are you going?" Klaus asked.

"To get a decent cup of coffee" the little boy said "But I'll drive"

Margrette, who had been listening from far, rolled her eyes at that and snorted.

"Do you even know how to drive?"

oooooooo

Margrette Hargrevess considered herself to be a woman of reasoning, hence why she wasn't about to let her thirteen year old looking brother drive a car; the most mature option being, much to his annoyance, driving herself. And yes, she'd admit maybe she wasn't the best of drivers but-

"I should be driving. You're going to kill us both"

She denied with her head and clicked her tongue several times.

"You really do sound like Luther. For the last time, I am not allowing you to drive because a) I have no proof you know how to and b) in the hypothetical case a police officer stopped us should I go with:' Oh yes, officer, he's actually sixty eight, Sir! Yeah, I know he looks younger! I can get you his skincare routine if you let us go! Also, you know what Officer? We're actually also kind of the same age! Haha" she smiled, taking pride on her own jokes which she hadn't made in quite a long time.

Number Five clearly didn't find them funny. She guessed he really was an old soul. An as if life wanted to prove a point or whatever, she hit the biggest of bumps ever, frowning when she felt his eyes immediately drifted towards her head and as if he thought of her to be the silliest, stupidest creature on earth.

"Aren't you supposed to be at least good at driving if you want to stop me from not doing it?"

She rolled her eyes

"I live in New York, okay? I've got my own drivers, which are taxis. To be honest, haven't done this since I was nineteen" she commented.

"Thanks for proving my point. Now stop the car"

As much as she'd have loved to keep arguing with him the car Margrette hitted another bump and although she hated the idea of her brother driving, she hated driving more, ever since Diego had thought her she realized that was one thing she didn't like doing. So yes, she stopped the car immediately, in silence, and moved seats and let him do all the work and not so surprisingly, he was better at it than she was. Doesn't one just hate brothers?

"So… what have you been up to these last seventeen slash fifty something years?"

"Manythings. Much more than you'd ever ben capable of doing" she rolled her eyes, again. He was lucky to be driving, if not, she'd have surely punched him "Dangerous things, pretty much everything"

"What kind of dangerous things?"

This time, it was him the one to roll his eyes.

"I, can't, obviously, tell you anything about it since you're not ready to learn about such things"

Margrette snorted. She really was being played by a thirteen year old. She swore, as soon as that little rat turned the car off, she'd hit his head.

"Good to know you're still the same smartass I remember, if anything, better at it"

"Thank you" he smiled.

She snorted again and focused her eyes on the road, instead of on him because the waves of satisfaction she was getting from him after the argument was finished made her want to kill him. So in order to distract herself, she began thinking of other things, which ended up being worse, because after she thought about one thing in particular, she simply couldn't get it off her head.

"Can I… ask something about the future without ruining everything?" she asked softly, very not like herself. She was unsure whereas she should ask at all, but if she didn't, she'd regret it.

He sighed "Go ahead"

"Uh… Do you know if I…I'll ever…"

"You'll what?"

He was eyeing her weirdly, raising his brows, because if he knew one thing about Margrette, it was that she wasn't the kind of person to go uh and umh when talking. She made her words sound clear and she usually didn't have many problems with expressing her opinion on things she wanted. This time, it seemed to be different.

She, of course, noticed he was looking at her as if she was the strangest person in the car, despite the fact that he was a sixty something year old time traveler trapped inside a thirteen year old body. So she smiled plainly and finished her sentence

"If I'll make it to fifty in the company? I don't plan to retire soon"

He knew she was lying. No matter how easily, lying came to her and how natural she could make a fake story sound, that little titling from before and the way her voice switched had made given her away. However, he was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole, he guessed that if there was something she wasn't sure he should know, he should respect that.

"Perhaps. Only if you start eating more calcium. Your bones a pretty weak"

She knew he was suspicious but appreciated the fact that he didn't feel like inquiring more about it. Instead, she focused on the nearly received advice and made herself a mental note on the fact that she should take more vitamins.

Griddy's doughnuts looked just as they remembered it: big circular lights all over the ceiling that one could pretend where windows showing you a clear sky, the same old red chairs and the same smell of decent and very pleasant coffee; that brought a tiny smile into both Hargreeves' faces, one that was hidden so quickly the other never really got to notice. Five hadn't been there since before he jumped through time and while his sister had stayed, she had also never returned to the place since about the event, as neither had any of their siblings; when older, if she had lived closer, or gone for a visit, that'd have surely been the first place on her list.

They sat together while talking about how ridiculously tall he thought her black heels for the occasion were all while she tried defending herself saying she had chosen them for a funeral.

"and these are Louboutin."

"so?"

"So they're way more stylish than your uniform"

He of course rolled his eyes after that, equally annoyed about the fact that he had to wear said stupid uniform and that he had just lost a silly argument to his sister. Impatiently, he touched the counter bell twice as a man made his way towards the same spot they were at.

"Don't touch twice, that's rude"

And as the mysterious man was taking a grab of the seat, Margrette proceeded to do the same as her brother had done about a minute before. Five chose not to say anything but to look at her.

"What?" she excused herself "I'm the adult here, I can do that. And I need my coffee"

Five denied with his head upon his sisters antics, proceeding to inspect the person who was now a few meters away from them, a habit both Hargreeves had acquired through the years. One was never safe from danger in that world, or in any world, for that matter. Margrette, on the other hand, had with the years become your typical new Yorker, not giving a second glance at anything that wasn't in her hands.

Soon, the lady who ran the store making herself presence, and if it wasn't for the few wrinkles going on her face, Margrette would've swore she looked just like she did back in the 90's, same pink uniform and all.

"Sorry, sink was clogged." She excused herself, a little out of breath, but still managing to keep a kind smile on her face while chuckling "So, what'll it be?"

"Black coffee" the blonde said, and for a second she wished her smile could come out naturally just like that woman's, kind and natural, but knew that it wasn't on her DNA so she did the closest thing to a smile there was for her.

"Mm-hmm. Sure" she wrote down "Can I get the kid a glass of milk or something?"

A strangled chuckle came out of Margrette's mouth after that but it was evident her brother didn't find those words nearly as funny, and that was evident by his scoffing.

"The kid wants coffee. Black"

If the waitress found it strange, she didn't tell them so. Instead, she shrugged and looked at Margrette as if they both were part of some kind of joke that Five wasn't old enough to understand.

"Cute kid" she chuckled "You must've had him very young"

It was meant to be a compliment, Margrette guessed, but as she was about to explain the kid sitting next to her wasn't her child, but her brother, the woman left to get their order along with an éclair for the man sitting next to them, not before being unfortunate enough to get a full picture of Five's creepiest, straight out of a horror movie type of smile. The blonde didn't even look at him, slightly amused by her brother's assholeness and how it hadn't time at all with time, if anything, it got even worse.

"Aren't you a charm?"

"Just like my momma" he smiled sweetly.

That made her chuckle, despite all her efforts trying not to. After that, given they had spent the whole day together and neither of them enjoyed talking that much if it there wasn't anything else to be said, he decided paying attention to his sister just wouldn't do anymore, so instead he turned to look at the man sitting on his left. After inspectioning he seemed decent enough for them to be on a conversation, he began talking.

"Don't remember this place being such a shithole. I used to come here as a kid. Used to sneak out with my brothers and sisters and eat doughnuts till we puked. Simpler times, huh?"

The man was obviously looking straight at the blonde, expecting her to interfere with their conversation since he believed her to be his mother, who would and should surely tell him off for talking to strangers, or for cursing at least. When she didn't, the old man had no other option but to answer to the many nonsenses the kid had told him

"Eh. I suppose"

Agness, the waitress got their orders ready sooner than the expected hence Five's little conversation was over even before it had begun. It was then when something unexpected happened, and the man sitting next to them offered to pay for their coffee. Margrette was about to open her mouth to refuse the offer, but Five had already said thanks, so she was left to do the same.

Of course, it seemed normal for Margrette that her brother should keep talking to the man after him paying them such a kind gesture, but of course she should've known her brother actually meant to get something else from the conversation rather than just what the word implied. But Margrette Hargreeves was far too tired to think, so instead she drank her coffee in silence, and decided for once to think the best out of her family.

She was so immersed in her own mind, thinking about how things would work out for her from then on, that she missed the fact that Five requested for an address from the man. She couldn't be blamed, though, she was a close to be unemployed ballerina momentary working for his ex-husband and with his new younger girlfriend who she had assaulted in the last forty eight hours; not to mention her father had died and she was now having coffee with her eighty something long lost brother who actually looked like he was thirteen.

At some point the man left, her noticing just as he got out the door. Taking a glance at her brother's cup she found he still had half of it full, just like hers: they were both slow drinkers, liked to enjoy their caffeine.

"Nice man, right?" she casually let out "Don't meet many people like that in New York"

"Neither do I in the future" he replied while holding the cup with both his hands, getting it closer to his mouth.

This time, thanks to her god damn coffee, Margrette was able to see that something had made her brother uncomfortable. Knowing it could've been her,she turned around, only to regret it immediately. The fact that there were about ten people in black suits standing dangerously close, arms in their hands, didn't surprise her nearly as much as the it did the fact that Number Five was as calm as a baby.

"That was fast. I thought I'd have more time before they found me" he told her and the switched the direction of his words towards the other guys "I was just having coffee with my sister, you could've cut me some slag"

"So let's all be professional about this, yeah" one of the man said, the one who had the end of his gun touching the blonde's head "On your feet and come with us. We'll leave your sister alone. They want to talk"

Inevitably, Margrette's grey eyes flew over her brother's face, clearly beginning for an explanation. Clearly everyone in the room seemed to know what was going on, expect for her. As he usually did, Five ignored her completely.

"I've nothingto say"

"It doesn't have to go this way"

"Which way?" she dared asking, after what seemed to be like hours. Not that she wasn't familiar to guys like those ones, but it had been so long since she had to face guns pointing at her, that she didn't see it coming

"A way that your brother would not like" the man replied, clearly being more polite than her own brother "You think I want to shoot a kid? Go home with that on my conscience?" he was now, talking to him.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that. You won't be going home" Five told the man, suddenly turning around.

Margrette, who had been watching her brother's every move (mainly because it was the only way she could look at without feeling the steel from a gun against her skull) noticed he was carefully reaching for the knife placed in front of him. That made it for her, just like the good old times, she knew then none of them would walk home without a little bit of blood in their clothes.

He stabbed one of them with the knife while she grabbed another one's hand and crashed her head against the counter three times straight, making the two times bigger guy fall on his feet like a doughty. Grabbing another one by his gun, Margrette pulled him closer to her only to put a soft hand over his cheek when they were close enough, grabbing the trigger with the other hand and shooting herself on the stomach; she jumped a little bit from the impact, but the other guy went off flying. For her next and final act, she threw herself down on the ground, crawled towards two other men and grabbed their foots, once she was sure she had actually gotten a good grab of them, Margrette Hargreeves punched her nose with the same amount of strength a professional boxer would need to k.o his opponent; once they were kneeling on the ground, she punched her own crotch, leaving them, k.o. She shot them all after that, just to be sure.

Not surprisingly, when everything went silent and she looked over to her brother, he had also done a good job, no one else apart from them two standing on their two feet or getting air in from their noses. Both a little bit out of breath, none of them said anything , although she was dying to. He fixed up his clothes a little and hurried his pace towards something, which turned up to be one of those men who was still alive, not for long though, since he broke his neck.

"What. The. Fuck" she let out.

If Five heard that, he didn't let her know for he kneeled down to pick up something from the ground, something which Margrette was unable to get a good look of. Still ignoring her, he walked over the very same spot where they were sitting calmly before, drinking their coffee, like normal people would before those brutes joined their that it was obvious he'd keep ignoring her,Margrette walked over just in time to see him opening a big and long incision on his arm.

"Five! What the fuck! Stop!" she yelled, trying to take the knife away from him, but a jab from Five stopped just a second before he began digging for something inside, dropping the knife himself.

As she watched with disgust how he was picking on his open flesh as if it was a turkey, she was surprised to see a beeping and shiny something actually coming out of it.

"What is that?"she inquired, getting closer to him as he exanimated it "What is it doing?"

"This" he replied, for the first time ever since it all happened "Is a locator. That's how they found me" he said, suddenly standing up "Sorry about getting you involved. Didn't know they'd show up here" he said while walking towards the door.

"They? Who are they, Five? I think I deserve a fucking explanation" she said, her shock staring to fade away only to be replaced with anger. Not only was she being left out of something important, but also the little bastard wasn't showing even a little bit of remorse for that, or thankfulness for saving his guts.

"I'll explain in the car" he said simply, leaving her behind and opening the door.

When they were outside, he threw the locator into a little poodle of water while she followed close behind, wondering how wrong it'd be for her to punch her brother in every single spot of his face. She guessed it wouldn't be too bad given the situation, but, she needed answers, and something told her he wouldn't be giving her those if she broke all his bones.

Margrette didn't say anything when they got into their father's car, she'd already done too much questioning and she shouldn't even be saying anything. Luckily for both of them (for she was going to do kill him if not) Five began talking as he turned the engine on.

"When I was in the future, I had a very important job. Yes, much more important than being swan queen, if that's what you're wondering. Anyway, this job I had… I was in charge of time"

"Time?"

"Yes, time. I was a guardian. My job was to make sure no one changed the stabled timeline, and I had to ensure said timeline at all costs."

"Do you mean by-

"Yes, by killing people. If someone ever planned to do something that would affect the course of things, I was supposed to jump in and put a stop in it. And I was very good at my job, let me tell you" he said, looking at her "but during all that time, I had been working on a formula that would allow me to come back, because there's something I need to do over here. Anyway, I discovered that formula and left, that, however, is against the rules and my contract, hence why those people were here for me"

"So… were they like your bosses or-

"No, they wish. I was their boss. They're only being send by my own boss, but as you can see, they couldn't catch me" he winked.

"Why did you decide to come back? What was the reason? And don't say is because you missed us because I'll grab that gear stick and shove it so deep into your-

"I can't tell you. But really, it hurts me to see you don't think of me as a sentimental type. What made you think that?" he smiled, petulantly.

"Ugh, Five!" she cried "This. This is all messed up! You know how long has it been since I've done this? I was out of shape here!"

"You did fine. I had you covered. Besides, is not like you haven't been using your powers lately. Klaus told me about that other ballerina and I've heard about your ex-

"Don't make it about me, we're talking about you and how much explaining you need to do if you don't want me doing what I did to those guys back there"

He smiled a light grip on the steering wheel.

"Like you could"

Trying to get information out of Five Hargreeves was a tricky situation. The most relevant things she got after what he told her was that he had been involved with the assassination of that guy who killed president Kennedy all those years ago, which during any other situation she'd have been thrilled to hear about, but there in the car, she needed to know other stuff, like: why did he come back, why were those guys so desperate to get him back, why had she felt the most alive she had in years back there at the café.

"Where are we going now?" she raised her brow.

"To Vanya's" he informed.

And perhaps if the whole day had been at least a little bit less weird than it had, Margrette would've bother asking why; asking why was it her house were they needed to go, asking if Vanya already knew, or at least asking how in bloody earth he knew where Vanya lived, when not even Margrette herself knew, and she had been living on the same timeline for the last years.

After a good round of complains from her part, about how there wasn't a way in hell she was climbing two floors to get illegally into her sister's apartment, and being left with no other option but to actually do it, Margrette and Five were sitting on Vanya's surprisingly comfortable chairs. The girl had done a previous stop at the bathroom, to clean up the blood a little bit and check for any aspirins, her wounds may've been healed, but her headache was killing her. Once everything that could be done was done, she returned the same place where her brother sat in the dark, a dramatic touch he just refused drop.

Vanya arrived about thirty minutes later, giving the two lots of time to keep talking about the whole futuristic assassin deal; well, really it was just time for Margrette to keep asking stuff and for Five to keep avoiding her questions with sarcastic coments. It would be an euphemism to say Vanya got a good scare when she unlocked the door and her brother turned on the lamp.

"Jesus!"

"You should've locks on your windows"

"I live in the second floor…"

"Rapist can climb."

"You're so weird" Vanya said, turning around to lock the door, accepting the fact, once again, her whole family were a bunch of freaks; muchlike herself.

When she walked over them, and kneeled down a little, to be on the same eye level as them, she noticed Margrette's deplorable state, and Five's shirt.

"Is that blood?"

"Is nothing"

"Margie, did… did you get hurt?" she asked carefully, not able to get her eyes away from the blonde's stomach where a whole blood bank had been spilled

"Not me. Another guy"

"Why are you two here?"

This, Margrette decided it was her brother's place to answer; firstly because he had made the decision and partly, too, because she actually had no idea why and had been inquiring about that ever since they passed St. Patricks Boulevard with no luck whatsoever.

With a sigh, Five answered:

"I've decided you're the only one I can trust. Margrette's only here because she happened to be somewhere at the wrong time."

Offended, she'd have said something, but limited herself to bite her tongue, getting herself glares from number Five. She was proud; that wasn't even a ten percent of what he deserved after causing the blonde's stress levels to get to the roof.

"Why me?"

"Because you're ordinary" silence "because you'll listen"

"Okay" Vanya said, getting up and leaving the room in search of something.

"I'm sorry about the mess in the bathroom!" Margrette yelled.

Her sister was kind enough not to mention all the blood that was now staining the walls and some bits of the floor, instead she showed up back into the livingroom with some gauzes and disinfectant, which she used to clean Five's only wound, which he had created himself. She'd have liked to do the same with her sister, but knew there was nothing for her to do, since mostly everything should be back on its original state by now, just like it always was with Margrette's injuries.

As she cleaned his wound, Five observed her, judging if she could be trusted. It seemed like he decided that to be true, because soon he was talking.

"When I jumped forward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found?"

"No"

"Nothing" he said sharply "Absolutely nothing. As far as I could tell, I was the last person left alive. I never figured out what killed the human race, but… I did find something else. The date it happens"

Now that was information Margrette hadn't received in the car.

"The world ends in eight days and I have no idea how to stop it."

"I'll put on a cup of coffee" was Vanya's only response.

"Make mine double" was all the blonde said before taking off her shoes to rest her very ugly and damaged feet on her brother's seat.