The leather straps were tight around her wrists and ankles, pinning her to the stiff chair no matter how much she struggled. Vanya wasn't sure how long she'd been trapped in the Dallas federal building nor what they were planning to do to her, all she knew that one moment Carl had been talking to her about the wrongness of her budding relationship with Cissy, and the next she was waking up in the backseat of the agent's van, bound and gagged. She should've questioned the sudden addition of the shovel in the car.
The questions had started out inane enough at first: who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want? But then they'd started dredging up her history, or lack thereof and she couldn't very well tell them she was a (supposed) time traveller; they'd have thought she was insane or trying to cover up her allegiance with the KGB (whoever they were) or both. One thing had led to another and before she knew it, she had been strapped into the cold metallic chair with her toes bare to the freezing water they were submerged in and with the electrical currents paired with the LSD now coursing through her veins, the most disturbing scenes were brought to life, courtesy of her own brain.
For the life of her, Vanya couldn't pinpoint when she'd disappeared from the little torture and interrogation room and reappeared in the darkened water-damaged stairway. The only source of light she had was the one from whence she had come and there was no way she was going back there if she could help it; so that left the only way: forward into the dark. At first she thought the place was deathly silent, almost suffocatingly so, but pricked ears could pick up small sounds that echoed around her like the crashing cymbals of an orchestra. The clattering of cutlery against porcelain china, the sniffling wails of a child in the throes of a nightmare, pattering of feet against the floor, a violin singing a sweet song and so on. She knew these sounds, and yet…
"Nomer sem'!" A strict voice pierced the darkness and the silence, commanding her forward and she felt herself beckoned forth like a hesitant child awaiting the inevitable scolding of a parent. She knew that voice, knew that name; somewhere in the back of her mind, Vanya knew that those words belonged to her and her alone. And yet as she stepped out into the dimly-lit dining room garbed in a school uniform she didn't remember putting on (but knew as her own), she still wondered as to whom she was answering to. A father perhaps? Brother? Uncle? Were they even family member at all? "Number Seven! You're late for supper, sit down"
Where the entrance of the house had been dimly-lit in blue like the film of an underwater reflection, the dining room was bathed in a greenish glow that was just as jaundice and gave off an uncomfortable feeling that was mirrored in most of the occupants surrounding the long oak table. Most, bar from the elderly man silently gesturing for her to take her seat at the other end and the smiley young man Vanya understood to be her son.
Trepidation curled in her gut as she approached the table, moving to take her place at the other end, opposite her guardian—father?. Glancing up, her eyes trailed over Luther, Diego and Five on her left before turning to her right were Allison, Klaus, Ben and Theodore sat; each wearing the same prim school uniform emblazoned with an umbrella. Hair combed back and collars neatly pressed, they all looked like a matching set even with their tense forms as they hunched over the table. Only Five had the audacity to lean his elbows on the tabletop despite the reprimanding glare sent his way.
Shifting uncomfortably beneath all the eyes now on her, Vanya took the brief moment to study the long oak table beneath her calloused fingertips. The wood was oak and scarred with nicks and divots that looked to be made by wayward knives and other unidentifiable items. Each placemat laid before them bore several stacks of unmarked porcelain plates like something from one of Harlan's TV shows, and yet somehow Vanya instantly knew which fork was for what.
"C'me on, Vanya, who are you really? Where did you come from?" The disembodied voice echoed about the cavernous room, bouncing off of the marble pillars and swam between her ears. She knew that voice, she knew she knew that voice, but something just wasn't computing right. It was like trying to solve an equation, but the numbers just weren't adding up right; something was still missing even when she felt like she was staring the answer in the face. "…Vanya, talking to us is your only option. Who is your handler? Answer me"
"Excuse me?" Vanya breathed, confused and uncomfortable beneath the stares trained on her.
"We're all waiting" Her father (she knew it was her father—Luther and Diego had told her about him earlier) demanded.
"For what?"
"The answer"
"I—I don't—I don't understand…"
"So you're not prepared? Is that what you're saying?"
"Well, prepared for what?"
"It's not her fault, Grandfather" Theodore interrupted, expression now guilty and tone now quietly childish as he stared down at the table in front of him like the wood grain would swallow him up if he asked. "I made her forget"
"She hit her head, she can't remember anything" Ben added.
"She got overheated" Allison chimed in next, her tone snarky and smug. "Wiped her mind clean"
"She's lazy" Luther smiled, "Didn't study"
"No, no, that's not it. I—" Vanya protested in vain.
"—Maybe she's been faking it all along?" Klaus suggested as Five stared despairingly at her in disappointment. Somehow that hurt worse than the others' words.
"She's just not ready for this" Ben tried.
"I did more damage than I meant to, I'm sorry Grandfather" Theodore apologised as tears tapped softly against the tabletop and his head remained bowed.
"You're all wrong" Father refuted confidently, "Number Seven deliberately chooses not to remember"
Denial bubbled up inside Vanya and yet a small piece of her wondered if what he said was true. Was she really choosing to forget everything? What was so bad that she didn't want to remember? Would it be better to leave it alone? As these questions whirled around inside her head like a tornado, several well-dressed butlers trundled out cloche-covered dishes that gave off an odd odour which made her stomach turn. "Are you okay?" Vanya asked the blue woman who laid her dish in front of her with graceful movements.
"Of course I am" She smiled kindly, mindless of the missing patch of skin that revealed the glittering circuits dancing beneath and portraying her android secrets "Why wouldn't I be?"
Vanya didn't have an answer for her, save for the strange sense of warmth that surged through her at the woman's appearance. Whomever this woman was to her, it was someone she evidently cared for most fervently—perhaps as a mother? But soon enough, her attention was drawn from the android over her shoulder to the jiggling brain presented to her like some kind of Halloween treat. All around her, the other Hargreeves dug into their brains with much fervour, turning Vanya's gut even more. Faintly she could hear Father telling Theodore to take smaller bites, and for Five to eat his parietal lobe which the teen had been neglecting in favour of the frontal lobe.
"Something wrong?" Father intoned as he slung his napkin across his lap before cutting into his own brain.
"…Just not hungry" Vanya tried to refuse as she felt disgust well up inside her. There was no way she could watch her family eat the organ, but hearing them was just as bad.
"Try it. It might help you remember…remember"
"…Vanya, what are you doing in Dallas?" The disembodied voice sounded again, grating against her ears just as Klaus' knife grated violently against the plate like he was trying to cleave the entire thing in half. "Keep ignoring me and see what happens…we will get you to talk"
"…Mama" Theodore leant in close, with eyes ringed red. "You gotta eat dinner or you won't get dessert"
Vanya could feel all eyes on her again as she cut the smallest sliver from the brain in front of her, inspecting the piece as it glistened beneath the jaundice lighting. Heaving a sigh, Vanya stuffed the piece into her mouth and tried her best to swallow it down even though her body wanted nothing more than to eject it. Choking on the tiny piece in her mouth, Vanya became subjected to quick flashes of what she could only presume to be her memories. A bloody birth, a tired mother, Harlan drawing fervently. "Number Seven!" Father scolded as she tried to choke down the brain even as her siblings laughed at her, no matter how stifled the sound was. "Either you remember or you will go to your room without dessert!"
Sometime later when the lights had stopped flickering dangerously and the sudden surge of pain had abided enough, Vanya found herself back at the dining table only now she was alone with her Father. "Eat up, it's getting cold" Father ordered as Vanya came back to herself. The horrendous brain still remained glistening on the plate in front of her. Something tickled in the back of her mind about the familiarity of the situation; of her refusing to eat, despite Father's instructions to do so.
"I don't want it" Vanya refused.
"I know you don't want it" Father replied as he stalked around the table, coming closer to her end. "But you can't pretend it doesn't exist"
"I'm not pretending"
"Of course you are. You choose to live in a fantasy, a land of make-believe where you don't have to face up to who you really are. Rather than face the complexities of your own existence, you choose to hide inside someone else's. A silly life on a silly farm" Father turned to the now illuminated portrait above the mantel displaying the trio of Coopers—a stern Carl with wife, Cissy and son, Harlan. "That's not meant for you"
There were no inflections placed on the last words, and yet they were the ones that hurt the most. Why wasn't that meant for her? Why couldn't she have that? Not once did the thought of her own son or family creep into her mind, far too occupied with the one her father was ripping from her white-knuckled grasp. It was like he had told her Santa Claus wasn't real; like he'd just sucked all the magic and specialness out of the relationship. "You can't deny your true self any longer" Father continued, "Even if you are afraid"
"I'm not afraid!" Vanya panted, fearful of the man standing over her and yet still defiant.
"Then eat! One more bite and then you can go"
Quickly slicing and stuffing another chunk of brain into her mouth, Vanya hoped that getting it over with would mean she could leave the table—leave this situation as soon as possible. Unfortunately as soon as she closed her lips, an unexplainable pain erupted in her brain, bringing forth more of those flashes of memories that pounded at her like thunder. Birth, a tuning fork against glasses, clinking of pills, a singing violin, a kind lying smile, an explosion of sound, Allison's terrified eyes, swirling energy and sound combing together in a symphony of destruction, blinding white, fire, destruction, pain, a loud heartbeat, challenging roars, gunfire, painful wails. On and on and on and on. "Remember…I…remember…I…remember…"
White. It was white, so much white: ivory, marble, white, white, white. Vanya didn't know where she was; a reoccurring occurrence she had come to find. What she did know, she could count on the one hand: 1) Bach's 'Partita No.2 in D Minor' was echoing around her and she could feel her fingers pluck invisible strings as if she was the one doing so. 2) Her son, Theodore (figment he may currently be) was dancing along to the song, using his telekinesis to float and flip and fly much as he had done as a child when she practised in the Icarus Theatre. 3) She remembered EVERYTHING.
A deep sorrow had wormed its way into her heart and even watching her son dance to the familiar tune did nothing to cheer her up. "Vanya?" Ben's voice queried from above her, cautious and concerned. Sitting up, she was met with a different version of her brother from the one before—this one she recognised from the very last time she had seen him on the morning of that fateful mission. Her heart clenched tight at the sight of him. "Do you remember me?" He smiled.
"I—I remember e-everything!" Vanya's voice trembled, voice thick with emotions and tears streaming down her face as she curled up against the pillar at her back. "And—and I—I'm doing it a-again, aren't I? What's—what's wrong with me?! Why can't I control myself like the rest of you guys?"
"It's not too late!" Ben cooed, sitting down at her feet while she sobbed into her knees. "You can go back, there's still time"
"I—I don't deserve to live" She sobbed, unable to look at Ben or Theodore. "I killed Pogo. I almost killed Allison. I destroyed the world. Teddy—Teddy hates me. I'm a m-monster!"
"…Dad treated you like a bomb before you ever were one" Ben scooted closer, "He was…so scared of your power, he never let you use it. Drugged you up, kept you numb for years. That's messed up, Vanya, no wonder you couldn't control it. Dad couldn't handle your anger, that doesn't mean you can't. And maybe you have a right to be pissed off & sad & messed up, but…it's a shitty world, full of shitty people sometimes"
Vanya's tears abated some as she watched his pale hand slip into hers, his concerned gaze still searching her depressed one for any sign of life. "Teddy doesn't hate you…He's scared"
"O-of me?"
"No. He…he's scared you'll give him up, like our mothers did. He's scared that the aliens hunting him will hurt you" Vanya followed Ben's look over to where the fake Theodore was pirouetting about the room like a spinning top. "He doesn't want to be alone anymore"
"But—but—"
"—You're a great Mom, Vanya, even Mom thought so"
"…Really?"
"You did good"
"…But he's not even mine"
"Yes, he is" He turned back to face her, hand gripped tight in his and eyes full of love. "You aren't a monster. You're a mother. You're my sister, and right now our siblings are risking everything out there trying to save you. You aren't alone at the table anymore, Vanya, you can do this"
Vanya felt her tears fade away, some of the sadness still lingering as she rose to her feet alongside Ben who had begun to peel away in glittering flecks of blue. "Ben, what's happening to you?" She asked.
"I…can't go back with you" Ben sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"…"
"I'm hurting you, aren't I?"
"It's not your fault. I've been holding on as long as I can in here, but…"
"You shouldn't have come for me"
"Vanya…I died 17 years ago. All the rest of this…these years with Klaus…it's all been gravy. At least this time I get to say goodbye…"
The sadness that still lingered, returned with force as the situation finally hit home. Ben was leaving, for good this time. "…Can I ask you a weird favour?" Ben asked hesitantly.
"Anything" Vanya promised, meaning every letter.
"Can you hug me as I go? It's been a long time since—" As Bach's piece reached its climax, Vanya pulled her deteriorating brother in close for a hug, burying her head in his chest over where his unseating heart lay. He was warm, unlike what any ghost should be and maybe that was because of where they were, but Vanya was grateful for it. Both happy that she got to cling tight to her brother one last time before he left and sad as he whispered the last of his dying words in her ear.
Collapsing slightly once he was gone, Vanya remained rooted in place, tears streaming down her face until quiet feet pattered over to her. Theodore, who had shrunken in age and size (likely in response to her emotions) until he was the eight year old she had plucked from her doorstep all those years ago, reached up a single hand to her and childishly asked; "Can we go home now, Mama?"
Vanya took his hand and opened her eyes.