22 November 1963

Following the disaster that was the simple meet-up in the alley behind Commerce & Knox, Luther somehow found himself tripping after Five like a lost puppy as he sent a confused Klaus off to check on Allison. Without a plan of action and barely treading water, Number One felt a bit like he was drowning in this mess they had somehow found themselves winding up in. So much had happened in the last couple of years or so that he'd barely had time to properly process it all. He'd been summoned home for his father's death only to be bombarded by the nasty drama that came with his family.

Five had returned after 56 long years despairing over an approaching Apocalypse or two, Allison had divorced and remarried, Vanya had written a tell-all book before blowing up the moon & subsequently the world, Diego had broken down so far that he'd been admitted into a mental asylum (one in which he subsequently broke out of) and Klaus had sobered up & summoned Ben from beyond the veil before starting up his very own worldwide cult. And that didn't even take into account the mind-fuck that he himself had gone through with his own father's death—sorry, suicide—and betrayal, before the untimely doomsday and subsequent employment to one Jack Ruby. It had been an odd couple of years, that's for damn sure and the week was only getting worse.

The dappled morning light shone through the mustard curtains breaking Luther from his thoughts. Following Five's tantrum the day before where he had locked himself in one of the bedrooms and ranted to himself about idiotic siblings and menial tasks; the tall man had collapsed onto the couch in the living room with his long legs hanging over the end and a thin blanket barely covering him. Thunking noises from the kitchen and hissed curses falling from his brother's lips jolted Luther from his sleepy daze and pulled him from the couch. "Five? Five, wha—?" Luther called curiously, shuffling over to the kitchen as he ran a hand through his bed hair, only to stop and blink dumbly at the sight he had found.

Five was rummaging through the fridge like a racoon in the trash, practically climbing into the weathered appliance in his need to reach whatever it was. His tarnished Umbrella Academy blazer had been carelessly tossed over one of the kitchen chairs and the schoolboy assassin had retreated from the fridge with a large bottle of water in hand, which he was currently gulping down like a dying fish. "Are you okay?" Luther puzzled, brows furrowed in confusion.

"M gonna need to be hydrated" Five replied as he shoved the mostly empty water bottle back into the fridge amongst the salad dressings.

"Hydrated? And what's with the baby powder?" Luther's confusion continued on as he watched Five dump fistfuls of talcum powder down each of his sleeves as well as his pants; coughing only slightly at the small dust clouds that billowed out when he jumped up and down in an effort to readjust to the newly added substance.

"It'll help with the itching" Five replied as if it were obvious.

"What itching? There's itching? What the hell is going on here?" Bushy brows receded as realisation dawned on him. "You do have a plan!"

"Well, it's a desperation move, but since our braindead family are incapable of meeting a simple deadline" Five sighed, seemingly much calmer than the day before, but still just as nutty. "I've got no choice"

"No choice about what?" Luther demanded as he came to stand in the doorway dividing the two rooms.

"I have to find myself" Five glanced at the perfectly ticking pocketwatch that Dad had given to the boy, checking the time. "I just arrived in Dallas fifteen minutes ago"

"…Should I be worried about you?" Luther queried as he watched Five slip the blazer back on and moved out to the center of the living room where he fell into some warm-up stretches they'd done as kids.

"Luther, if you recall: I was sent to 1963 on a job by the Commission to make sure the President was assassinated"

"Ooh! So wait, you're old self is out there!"

"Precisely!"

"What? Just walking around Dallas?"

"Walking around Dallas with a briefcase that can get us back home"

"Oh my God, Five! You're a genius—!"

"—However, there are two significant problems with this plan" Five interjected sourly.

"Of course there is" Luther sighed dejectedly. "What are they?"

"Problem number one: I'm a trained assassin—arguably the most dangerous assassin in the space-time continuum. And if I know me, I'm not going to react kindly to bumping into myself" Five paced back and forth, swinging his arms about like a mad man and making Luther a little dizzy with his harried movements. "Problem number two—and this is the real fly in the ointment here—You're not s'posed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. The side effects can be disastrous"

"Side effects? What sort of side effects?"

"Well, according to the Commission Handbook, chapter 27, sub-section 3b: The Seven Stages in Paradox Psychosis are: Stage 1) Denial, 2) Itching, 3) Extreme Thirst & Urination, 4) Excessive Gas, 5) Acute Paranoia, 6) Uncontrolled Perspiration and 7)…Homicidal Rage"

"Homicidal rage?" Luther repeated, eyebrows reaching for his hairline.

"Yeah"

"Geez, I don't know this…maybe isn't such a good idea"

"It's a Hail Mary! But what choice do we got, Luther?"

"Well, I dunno—you already seem kinda squirrelly, if I'm being honest"

"Look Luther, I'm gonna need you to help get through this one, alright?" Five suddenly rushed over to his taller brother, weaving through the stacks of magazines & newspaper clippings and gripped him by the forearms as of he wanted to physically shake him. "I—I need a spotter"

"Spotter?" Luther puzzled, confused over the term used. "What is that? Like…a wingman?"

"In case the Paradox Psychosis gets too severe, I need you to help me stay on task, alright? So, whatever happens, whatever I say…we need to get that briefcase. Okay?"

"Okay…"

"Okay"

And with that Five strode off towards the front door like a man on a mission, leaving Luther to stare wide-eyed at the floorboards as he tried to process all of the information suddenly thrown at him. Concern for his brother warred with curiosity about what the Seven Stages would look like and relief over a possible plan to get back home; all his emotions whirling around inside like a tornado. "Luther! C'me on!" Five called over his shoulder when he glanced back at the top of the stairs to see that his taller brother hadn't moved an inch.

"Er—right!" Luther nodded, hastily following after Five more on some ingrained instinct to follow orders like a good little soldier, than anything else.

Of all the places to find Five Jr (or was it Sr?), an Irish Pub was not the first place that would've come to Luther's mind. Of course, given Five's recent penchant for day drinking, then it did make a little sense to the ape man. All dollied up for the President's arrival into Dallas, the pub bore several layers of American and Irish flags about the place, a lively Irish jig echoed throughout the place and there at the stained wooden counter sat a withered and weary Five Jr It was odd to say the least. "Well, there I am" Five Sr muttered nodding towards the elderly man nursing a pint with his large black briefcase planted neatly by his feet.

"Why don't we just grab the briefcase and run?" Luther pondered as both he and Five Sr peered around the pillar blocking their view.

"Luther" Five Sr began patronisingly, "I would never let that happen. We're trained to guard these briefcases with our lives"

"Right"

"Plus, it's the inherent paradox where this get tricky. I'm endangering my existence just by being in the same room as myself"

"Huh—? What do you mean?"

"Luther, do try to keep up! If old me doesn't travel back to 2019like he's supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. I cease to exist. You got me?"

"…I get you" Luther nodded, still not quite getting it but getting a little ticked off at his brother's tone.

"So our best chance is talk with him—to reason with him"

"Ah…"

"He'll understand, trust me" Five Sr sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Luther. "I know myself better than, uh…better than I know myself"

"You just itched your neck!" Luther exclaimed, catching the action immediately. "That's stage two of Paradox Psychosis!"

"No, I didn't" Five Sr childishly denied. "I didn't itch my neck"

"Denial is stage one"

"I am fine, okay? Let's—let's just stay on task, shall we?"

"Wait—!" Luther's arm snapped out to pull Five Sr back before he could go any further.

"What?" Five Sr snapped.

"Maybe…maybe I should go first"

"Why?"

"You'll freak him out" Luther reasoned, before muttering under his breath. "I know you're freaking me out"

"What was that?"

"I mean—bumping into your own tiny doppelgänger? He'll lose his shit. Just let me break the ice"

"…Okay" Five Sr acquiesced, sparing a glance over at Five Jr with narrowed eyes.

"Okay" Luther nodded, clapping his large hands once before the two parted with a pair of deep sighs—one much heavier than the other.

Exhaling slowly, Luther pulled on his bodyguard persona that he'd developed over the last year under Jack Ruby and approached Five Jr (and wasn't that a weird thing to get his head around? The younger Five was an old man and the older Five was a young teen! Ha!). Practically hovering over the elderly man, Luther straightened his shoulders and tried to ignore the eyes on his back. "Five" Luther began, grabbing the elderly man's attention.

"What'd you call me, big man?" Five Jr drawled, rolling his eyes away from the crumpled newspaper laid before him.

"It's me" Luther continued rather patronisingly. "Number One?"

"Luther…" Five Jr finally sat up at that, body tense, one hand on the briefcase and eyes blown wide as he turned to face his taller brother. "How did you—?"

"—It's okay. Everything is fine—I can explain. But first, I need to introduce you to somebody. Just…promise me you won't freak out"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Uh, just don't freak out. No freak-outs" Luther bared an awkward smile in an effort to ease any nerves. Not that it seemed to be working if Five Jr's unchanging reaction (sans his eyes that watched him like a caged animal). "Alright"

Turning just far enough to the side so that Five Sr could crawl out from behind his brother's hulking form, Luther lightly leant back against the bar and sat back to watch the odd interaction between the two Fives. If Five Jr had been shocked to see an older Luther, then it was nothing when compared to the reaction he had upon seeing his younger self. Particularly when Five Sr started talking. "Hey there, stranger" Five Sr murmured, still a little wary to be so close to his younger self.

Soon enough, the trio found themselves seated around one of the small wooden tables (or at least for Luther who had trouble stuffing himself into the tiny chairs), Luther couldn't help but think they looked like a rather odd trio. Three generations of Hargreeves sat rather amicably together—granted two of those three generations were the same person, but still—it seemed to be going much better than any of their usual family meals; something that was likely helped by the half empty pitcher of beer and basket of fries on the table.

"Well" Luther sighed with fake cheer, breaking the awkward silence as both Fives continued to glare at each other from across the table like hissing cats. "This is nice, isn't it? The three of us, together like this"

"No" Both Fives chorused before glaring harder at each other. Honestly, it was hard enough to deal with one Five, but two? Luther wasn't sure if he could do it, Apocalypse be damned.

"Somebody explain to me how it is I'm having a pint of Guinness with my younger self—" Five Jr demanded.

"—Older self, actually" Five Sr replied, equal bits smug and bitter. "I'm you, just 14 days older"

"I have pubic hair smarter than you! How's that possible?"

"I can explain: You see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll before the President is killed, you break your contract with the Commission. I already know you're thinking about it. All those years in the Apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family…Well, today you're going to something about it. Today you're going to time travel forward to 2019; however you're gonna screw up the jump and end up in this twip of a body, trapped forever: small, pubescent—"

"—Okay!" Five Jr interjected, cutting off his elder counterpart with a squeaky fart. "Even if I was to believe you, what am I supposed to do about it? Not jump?"

"No, no I need you to jump—if you don't jump, I cease to exist. What I need from you is to jump correctly"

"I'm listening"

"The first time through, I got the calculation wrong—that's how I ended up in this body. But now, I know the correct calculation"

"…What is it?"

"I'll be glad to tell you…in exchange for that briefcase you're holding under the table"

"Yeah, yeah, so you go back to 2019 as planned" Luther piped up, trying to imitate his brother but with little success. He just couldn't really let the whole 'leader' thing go, even now. "But this time with the right math—so you remain a full-grown man. In exchange, we get that briefcase you no longer need"

"Timeline restored" Five Sr barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Luther's predictable nature. Five Jr held no such qualms. "Paradox resolved. Everyone goes on existing happily ever after"

"…That's quite a bit to take in" Five Jr finally uttered.

"What do you think?"

"I think…I need to piss"

Slumping over in his seat, Luther felt like he could breathe again now that he only had to deal with one Five—whether or not it was the saner Five was still up for debate. Looking at his brother sat hunched over the table like a gremlin, Number One couldn't help but wonder just what was rattling around in that brain of his, or what kind of cockamamie plan he was going to come up with next. "Oh! Oh!" Luther gently pulled the napkin out from beneath his beer when he saw how Five's fringe was starting to stick to his forehead (even if he was far more interested in his counterpart's trip to the bathroom). "Well, besides the flop sweat" Luther patted at his brother's face with the napkin & drying up the sweat. "I think that went pretty well, am I right?"

"No—no, there's something…" Five Sr's mutters were full of paranoia now as he knocked away the helping hand. "…Something doesn't feel right about this"

"What—what do you mean?"

"I don't trust him!"

"…But he's you"

"Exactly"