4 April 1914

When he first awoke, the familiar feeling of scratchy wool and animal hair tickled at his nose making Theodore sneeze relentlessly into the loudly-patterned woollen throw blanket which had been pulled high over his head. The world around him felt muffled by the stuffy feeling in his head and the blanket of jet lag which had settled deep within his bones tried to pull him back under. There was the scent of wet dog on the air and his body had taken on this jelly-like quality that was almost pleasant as he stretched out languidly before falling bonelessly back against the cushions beneath him. Although the cascading sunlight punctured through the curtains and the scratchy wool, made him pause. My window's not on that side…did I fall asleep on the couch again? Theodore puzzled as he noted that the sun patch raining down on him was on the wrong side. Or did I have another nightmare and sleep in Vera's bed again?

As consciousness fully settled over him, he found himself trying to recall what had happened to land him there. The last thing he could properly remember was crash-landing in some back alley in the dead of night, whilst a storm raged around him. Theodore suddenly jolted upright as everything seemed to come rushing back into photo-clear focus. Finding Vera in the old warehouse just Doro said she would be, the subsequent tears & grief that had encompassed him when she would not wake to his touch or his cries, the betrayal he had felt when not only his dons & ven had tried to kill them, but Helga & the Echo Initiatives too. Between one breath and the next, Don Luther was hoisting him high into his arms, they were leaving Vera behind, Don Fën tore open a hole in time & space and then they were tumbling through the temporal plane without direction.

There was the lonesome crash-landing in the alleyway behind Commence & Knox, the horrid full-body itch that rankled every inch of Theodore's body, the shocked grief that encompassed him when he realised he was the reason that the apocalypse had befallen the Earth at his own hand (however accidental). There was the stuffy-head feeling that ached inside his brain, the bone-deep exhaustion which had dark dots dancing around the corners of his vision and the panic which had pinched at him when he discovered himself to be in place so unknown to him.

A cocktail of feelings had roiled around inside him until they had eventually dispelled themselves onto the concrete bellow in a torrent of bile and high up above, the twisting vortex of a portal which had spat him out, disappeared as if it had never been there to begin with. Confusion, panic, grief, guilt and so many other emotions tumbled about inside him as Theodore found himself stumbling backwards until he passed out in the alleyway, cold and alone. Suffice to say, it had been an eventful birthday and one that he would likely never forget.

With plaid sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bandaged hands roved over his body and dipped beneath the duvet as he checked to make sure that everything was still there & intact. Head, check. Arms, check. Legs, check. Heart, check. It was the bandages bound tightly around his hands and arms though, that gave him pause once more. Squashed between the pillow shoved up against the armrest & the numerous throw pillows stuffed onto the couch, Theodore did his best to prop himself upright. Theodore was almost hesitant as quaking fingers danced around the gauze wrapped around both of his arms. The bright pink cast which had once been strapped around his right arm was gone, instead replaced by another series of gauze bandages that matched the ones on his left.

He wasn't totally worried about the missing cast to be honest, mostly because he knew that humans healed faster with the aid of loralite in their system and because he already had so much in his (being the offspring of a Loric-Human coupling), he knew that his injuries would heal at a much faster rate. In fact, his once cast-bound wrist was already starting to feel better, if a little tender. No, the reason he was most upset about losing the cast was because of the simple fact that many of his family & friends had decorated it with messages from them and there, neatly printed by the pulse of his wrist were the last words of his vera. But now that they were gone, he wondered if would he even be able to remember them? He hoped so.

Although scared of what he might find, Theodore was intent on seeing for himself what damage lay beneath the tightly-bound gauze and whether or not the lichtenberg scars left behind from his various mishaps & ventures throughout the week of A'Doro's funeral, were still there. When he had first been scarred by his own lumen, the boy had been more concerned with getting out of the ruins of Saint Gregory's Royal Academy without being caught by the LANE Keepers, which meant that he didn't have time or the means to take care of himself. Later, when he was captured by the very same LANE Keepers who he had tried to outrun in the living room of the Umbrella Academy, Theodore had once again been more concerned with his own safety than the vain cosmetics of his own appearance. Now though as he unwrapped the gauze and looked upon their salmon branches decorating his skin, he could almost call them pretty in a hypnotising sort of way.

With a quiet sigh Theodore rebound his bandages, although not as tight as before (it was rather hard to manoeuvre the thing with his dominant hand still a little tender without the cast). Soon enough however, Theodore was brought out of his silent musings and time-consuming task by a wet nose prodding at his arm & a sad whine that sounded in the back of the canine's throat. His gaze was yanked down towards a googly-eyed pug who stood expectantly waiting at the edge of his makeshift bed. Despite its rather raisin-wrinkled face, the current expression it wore made it look rather sad and sorry for itself as it stood propped up by a makeshift stepping stool next to the couch.

Theodore's bandaged hand was equally as shaky as before as he reached out to pet the pudgy-faced dog next to him whilst the other rested in his lap. The dog brightened at his touch and it moved closer with curled tail wagging furiously behind him. But it was only when the dog excitedly pawed at the rumpled blankets surrounding him in an effort to get closer, that he found out that this dog's name was Mr Pennycrumb (as told by the dog tag that flashed in the sunlight) which struck a chord with the boy. Mr Pennycrumb had been the name of his imaginary friend when he was younger, named for the dog from the old cognac commercial which occasionally played on TV. It would seem—as that advertisement was no long "vintage"—that whomever owned this dog had the same idea in regards to naming the canine. It was a good name anyhow, and it rolled off of his tongue easily enough.

"…Hi, Mr Pennycrumb" Theodore whispered as he rubbed the canine's ears, silently marvelling at just how velvety soft they were. It may have seemed like a rather odd name for the dog in retrospect, but Mr Pennycrumb (just as the one from the old commercial was) was neither penny-coloured nor crumb-size. On the other hand, he was rather penny-sized and crumb-coloured. As Theodore tried to blink back the tears that gathered in his eyes when his hands met the fur (he wasn't sure why he was so tearful, only that the pug's eagerness to be pet reminded him of Mrs Kowalski's numerous cats). He paused in his ministrations for a moment (something which Mr Pennycrumb was not pleased about) when the sound of his own voice reached his ears. It dumbfounded him, the sound of his own voice; brows furrowing at the noise that escaped past his lips. It was odd to hear something to hear something so raspy coming from him, although it did make sense considering how much he had yelled, wailed and wept before coming here.

Not to mention all that usage of his Legacies which had left his vocal cords far more spent than they had ever been (save for when he was a babe and cried himself hoarse). Despite the rather reasonable explanation to explain away the harshness of his tone, Theodore was still rather embarrassed by it and found himself sinking back beneath the safety of the covers. Mr Pennycrumb whined pitifully at that and prodded at the boy again, this time climbing up onto the squishy couch and making it dip a little beneath his weight. Theodore let out a quiet squeak of surprise at the action, arms flailing about as the pug all but scrambled up onto the couch with all the gracefulness of brick through a window. The pug took a moment to comfortably situate himself atop Theodore's chest, mindless of the protruding nightgown buttons that dug into his belly and sat expectantly waiting for further pets from the boy.

"…Guess I'm not moving now, huh?" Theodore huffed as he stared back at the pug sat expectantly on his chest. It probably would have of been more effective if the boy hadn't reached out to pet the pug once more; running his tender fingers through beige fur. When Mr Pennycrumb shuffled closer still, Theodore finally noted the strange tint of orange which encompassed those big googly eyes of his. It was strange because pugs did not have eyes coloured such as that, chimaeras however, did.

Chimaeras were beasts once native to Lorien; ones that were called out of hiding by the Phoenix Stones (the stones which were also used to help boost the planet's ecosystem) by the Elders at the time and ones who—thanks to their shapeshifting abilities—quickly became the dominant fauna on the planet. According to A'Vera Katerina, almost all of the chimaera were wiped out during the Mogadorians invasion of Lorien and those few handfuls that were able to survive & escape on the Earthbound shuttles, were then later captured by the Mogadorians & later killed. Very few remained, but A'Vera Katerina had often spoken fondly of her own; stating that Liwa—who often preferred the shape of a ferret—could easily be discerned from the other animals of that nature by the golden eyes that they wore. No one knew for sure, why their eyes were that colour, but many suspected that it was thanks to their relationship with the Phoenix Stones.

"Salu…? [Hello…?]" Theodore asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know if this pug was what he thought them to be.

"Ruff!" Mr Pennycrumb giddily replied, eyes lighting up in recognition and tail wagging religiously behind him.

"Can—can you comprende mi?"

"Woof!"

"You—you can?"

"Ruff!"

"Salu, salu, Mr Pennycrumb!" Theodore smiled wetly as he raised his other hand to pet & scratch the canine chimaera. It was by a complete miracle of happenstance that whomever had taken him in, also happened to (unknowingly) have a chimaera as a pet, but he was happy nonetheless. Stuck in the past with no way home and no link to his family, it was nice to have this little piece of his heritage with him, even if it was a chimaera dog that he had just met. In any case, Mr Pennycrumb didn't seem to mind the sudden loving. "Do you know where I am, Mr Pennycrumb?"

"Arf!" Mr Pennycrumb just barked in reply, tongue happy lolling out of his mouth instead.

"Yeah, you're no help"

Propped up on elbows, Theodore glanced about to find himself laying on a rather lumpy couch in some sunlit living room not the waterlogged back alleyway, as he thought he would be. It was a large open space, decorated in an odd assortment of turquoise & tan-coloured pieces of furniture.

Opposite him there sat a pair of mismatching armchairs with several layers of newspapers & throw cushions. From what he could see the building was punctuated by a series of windows that lined the walls and the ceiling, showering the place in as much natural light as possible.

They weren't the only light source, of course, there were also several lamps and hanging lights (almost too many, if he were being honest) dotted about the place and illuminating the room. It was almost amicably quiet in the living room—save for the chipper chuffing of the pug who had dropped down to his lap & the nearby clock that chattered away on the wall—a fact that Theodore welcomed as he tried to get his head on straight. He wasn't sure what he would have of done if he had woken to people hovering about him. So much had happened to him over such a short time span; he had lost so much and Don Fën had successfully taken them back in time, he knew that much.

Okay, okay, okay! Calm down! Let's look at the facts, what DO you know? Theodore hissed out a breath as he went over the facts he knew to be true. I'm in a retro living room and there's a pug in my lap with the same name as my imaginary friend, so the time travel thing must have of really happened. I'm now thirteen years old. Vera—Vera's…g-gone and my dons & ven are missing, and I have no idea where I am. Where am I…? Vera, help me please…!

"…Wha—? Ack!" Theodore flinched back from the sloppy wet tongue which slobbered itself against his cheek, doing a much better job of pulling him from his dour thoughts than the wet nose which had previously prodded at his arm.

"Ruff!" Mr Pennycrumb appeared affronted by the fact that he was being ignored and even more so, irritated that he had had to duck the wildly flapping arms which had sprouted in retort to the surprise doggy kiss.

"You're the one who licked me!" He replied before collapsing back against his pillows with a heavy sigh. Theodore turned his tearful gaze back towards the water-stained ceiling as his expression mirrored that of his sorrowful thoughts. "…Y'know, I'll have to get up to pee eventually, right Mr Pennycrumb?"

Whilst he was not able to currently see the canine, Theodore could still practically picture the way his head had tilted in interest with ears flopping to the side as he listened to the boy muse aloud. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was back in the Broadview Apartments complex and that the pug on his chest was in fact, the chubby form of Mr Puddles begging to be fed. Again. His nose scrunched up in discomfort as he felt the canine begin to move about as he wobbily scrambled to get closer and stand over him. Even without looking, he could feel the canine standing over him thanks the warm breath billowing down onto his face and his expression screwed up further in disgust when the smell, of what could only be described as hot garbage, floated down. A smell that was then followed by a nice slobbery lick from chin to forehead.

"Hey! Stop doing that!" Theodore squawked, smiling despite himself as he pushed the drooling canine off of him and back onto the floor, before he hauled himself back upright so that he could wipe the drool from his face. "Burk! [Yuck!] That's so brut! [gross!]. I mean, I know dogs' mouths are s'posed to be cleaner than toilets, but you lick yourself with that thing! Burk!"

Mr Pennycrumb seemed entirely too pleased with himself as he flopped none-too-gently back to the floor, landing next to the forgotten wash cloth which had once found a home on Theodore's forehead (as explained by the wet strip plastered across his forehead) as Theodore finally heaved the blanket off of him, shivering slightly at the sudden loss of warmth and swung his legs down to the floor. In doing so, it took an embarrassingly long time for Theodore to recognise that he had been redressed into an ensemble of clothes that were not his own. They were too old—new?—to be his own and far too large.

"These…are not my clothes" He blinked, looking over the vintage nightgown and thick woollen socks which pooled around his ankles. A quick glance down the collar of the billowy nightgown showed that not even the underwear he wore was his own; instead of the form-fitting underwear he had been wearing earlier, he was now adorned in a pair of oversized boxers that were barely clinging to his hips. "Who dressed me?" He asked of Mr Pennycrumb, as if the canine was able to respond properly.

"Woof!" The pug barked once and wagged his tail playfully in reply, as if trying to tell him that everything was alright.

"Right…"

Mercifully, the bathroom was easy enough to find (after a few wrong turns and jiggling of door handles) and with Mr Pennycrumb doggedly chasing his heels, Theodore entered the little tiled room shoved off to the side. The little bathroom was obnoxiously tiled and decorated in a variety of pretty towels and soaps, that reminded him of the ones back in the bathroom at the Jackpine Road cabin (the same ones that Vera stressed were for decoration only). He felt odd going to the toilet with the little lady toilet roll cover watching him from the windowsil that sat above the toilet; but needs must and all that.

Even from where he stood as the hiss of urine filled the bowl, Theodore could still see the shadow of Mr Pennycrumb where he sat outside, guarding the door and waiting for him to come back out. Despite the canine's questionable intelligence, Theodore was just thankful that the chimaera had had enough sense to remain outside the bathroom instead of coming inside like Mrs K's cats often tried (and succeeded) to do on occasion. What is it with animals and watching people pee? Is it a trust thing? Or are animals just weird? Theodore wondered as he finished up and moved to wash his hands.

But then he found himself pausing as he gazed upon himself for the first time since he hand returned to the past. His brown coils were just as impressively curly as they always were—especially after being doused in rain the night before (his hair always curled up into tighter ringlets when it became wet)—puffing up about his face like a little cloud that was reminiscent of some of his baby photos. The dribble of blood which had trickled out of his ear thanks to the gun going off next to it, had dried into a thin little line which was easy enough to pick off; although his balance still felt a little off-kilter thanks to that. His one lone eye was as brown as ever, whilst the empty socket looked like it needed to be cleaned. He only hoped that there was a scrap of fabric or spare gauze lying around that he could use as a makeshift eyepatch, because the haunted boy who stared back at him was almost scary-looking and Theodore had a hard time connecting the fact that the boy in the mirror was, in fact, him.

When Theodore did eventually return to the living room, his gaze was drawn to a haphazard pile of mail which had been left out on the kitchen table. Shuffling over to the tabletop, he pawed through the letters and found that each were addressed to either a Mrs Eleanor Gussman, a Mr Elliot Gussman or a Ms Eleanor Hirschfeld, but it was the crisp newspaper which caught his attention first. Theodore picked up the thing curious to see what was going on in the world, but what he found made his heart skip a beat.

He was back in the past, he knew that—he had hoped it was just a dream, but deep down, he knew that it wasn't—and this had only confirmed it. Theodore had barely made it through the headline because his hands were shaking so much and his gaze kept jumping back to the date at the top of the paper: April 4th 1914. 1914, not 2019, 1914. Stuck in the past with the world on the cusp of war, almost 105 years earlier than his original timeline with no way home and no one to help. He was all alone and it scared him.

Whatever the case, before his thoughts could spiral further, the sound of a door opening somewhere followed by the murmuring of strange voices had Theodore diving back into the living room and the safety of the couch upon which he had awoken. Scooping up Mr Pennycrumb on the way (much to the pug's glee), Theodore practically launched himself back onto the couch where he then puled the blanket back up over his head (as if that would protect him) and hid there like the scared child he was, dog and all.