1962

Luther had insisted that Vanya could use the shower first, even though she was pretty sure they were equally damp and miserable. But she did look worse, in a white suit that she didn't remember changing into that was stained a depressed gray from the wet alleyway.

And it did, admittedly, feel good to stand under the spray and let it stream through her hair. Even if looking down at the ashen tint of the water running toward the drain didn't. A few sparse moments from the theater had surfaced over the last few hours. There had been a loud sound. And the energy she'd been taking in and packing together in a big staticky ball near her heart had gone. She knew that much. The rest was still a blur.

She considered asking Luther to fill in the gaps but thought better of it. That was a conversation for later. She was still too angry with him. The last thing they needed was for her to fall back into the stark pain of his betrayal, the vulnerability…

Vanya turned the water off as the stream from the showerhead reacted to her mood and started spraying her directly in the face.

She got out and dried off before wrapping herself in an itchy, off-white robe and padding out into the rest of the room. The note on her bed—Going to get food, stay here until I get back—didn't surprise her. But it did make her feel perversely better to crumple it up and use her powers to aim a three-pointer into the room's trash bin.

Vanya smiled despite herself and flopped down on the bed.

000

Luther wasn't gone for long, and Vanya held her breath when she heard the key in the lock. He entered a moment later with his arms full of paper grocery bags that he subsequently managed to lose hold of and drop to the floor.

It was mostly cereal boxes with some pieces of fruit interspersed. They both set about picking everything up and dumping it all onto his bed.

"Oh, uh, here." Luther held out another paper bag that he'd crumpled between his injured arm and his chest. It had a different logo on it than the other bags, and he looked somewhat nervous as Vanya plucked it from his fingers and uncrumpled the top to reach inside. The contents were a pair of wide-legged pants and a button-down shirt. Luther was staring at them where they were clutched in her hand. "I looked for, um, undergarments too, but I couldn't find any. Sorry."

"Oh…I…thanks." Vanya eyed them, surprised. It looked like he'd actually done a decent job of getting her size right.

"I'm gonna…" Luther pointed a finger toward the bathroom and then limped past her and the door closed a few seconds later.

As soon as it did, Vanya swiped one of the cereal boxes from the pile and dug into the top, jamming her hand down in to grab a handful as soon as it was open. After a few desperate munches, the water in the shower turned on, and she let go of the box long enough to change out of the robe and into the clothes Luther had gotten her. First the pants, then the shirt. She finished buttoning it and crossed to the mirror near the door.

Vanya almost laughed out loud. The crusty mustard color pants did not go with the variegated blues of the striped button-down shirt. With her tangled, drying hair she looked just as out of sorts as she had in her concert getup.

But at least they were both dry, and they did indeed fit well.

Satisfied, Vanya went back to her cereal box. For everything that was wrong and completely out of the ordinary, it did feel nice to curl up on the unfamiliar bed and shove more Cocoa Puffs into her mouth until her stomach stopped growling. Vanya couldn't remember the last time she'd been this hungry and this tired. The more she ate, the more the lights seemed to dim, wrapping her in a yellow cocoon of calm. It felt good.

As Vanya idly crunched, she warily considered how this version of "good" was different than what she'd felt on her meds. At the moment, she wasn't sure if it was better or worse. After so many years existing on a level, endless plain, suddenly being surrounded by shifting, violent mountains was not comforting. She knew intellectually that being off of medication she didn't need was for the best, but did it really have to be right now?

Right now when the world was ending. Well, had ended. Because of her.

Vanya sighed. She didn't want to talk to Luther about any of this, didn't want to be the one to destabilize this uneasy truce they seemed to have reached. But she also knew that staying in a cheap hotel room eating cereal was a temporary fix. The Umbrella Academy didn't just lie low, certainly not smack dab in the middle of a mission. And so far she was already royally screwing this one up.

Vanya sunk further into the pillows. Her first mission as a member of the Umbrella Academy. It was all she'd ever wanted as a child—her whole life, really. Dad would be practically smiling if he could see how bad she was doing. She ate some more cereal.

000

1961

Almost three months to the day of Allison's arrival, Odessa paused on her way from the back room of the salon to let her know that they'd be staying after closing time tonight. There was a meeting happening.

"We both need to be at it." Odessa gave her a side eye that looked both dubious and amused.

Allison had no idea what she was supposed to do with this information and simply nodded that she understood. Odessa continued on her way with the extra curlers she'd been retrieving.

A few minutes later, Odessa's client said something and initiated a ripple of laughter from the other ladies. Allison blinked and tried to refocus on double checking the amounts from yesterday. She'd always been a whiz at math, and while Odessa's own accounting skills were nothing to sneeze at, Allison liked being able to take over where she could. She certainly didn't know how to cut hair, so that was a no go.

"Mommy! Can I have side bangs? Please? Raina got them and I want to try …" Allison paused for a moment and smiled. Then went back to counting, pleased. She'd been hearing Claire's voice more clearly as time went on. And Allison swore it was the only thing keeping her going. She'd hold conversations in her head with her daughter, replaying stories of her grand adventures in preschool. Sometimes, when Allison felt like making herself miserable, she'd imagine that she was the one on the line of that last phone call outside the bowling alley.

"…husband chased him five blocks, down Patterson, blitzed out of his mind, in his drawers." The conversation had gotten louder; it pulled her unwillingly away from her daughter.

"You're jivin' me."

"Allison, am I lying?"

"Don't pull her into your mess, you know the girl can't speak."

Well, technically that was still true. But Allison's coughs had sound now. It hurt like crazy, but she'd managed a croaky ack! a few nights ago. She'd nearly burst into tears again. It had been a long time since Allison had been in a position to reflect so deeply on her life, and she'd been increasingly finding that there was a lot to shed tears over.

Not in the mood to participate now, she sighed and pretended not to have heard, continuing with what she'd been doing and quietly practicing humming.

000

1962

By the time Luther had finished his shower and managed to squeeze himself into a bathrobe—not a quick feat—he came out to find Vanya asleep, haphazardly curled around a box of Cocoa Puffs.

Luther eased himself onto his own bed, massaging the angry muscles in his left shoulder. It would heal in time. He just had to be patient and hope nothing too serious came up before it did. The rickety bed creaked under him, unhappy with his mismatched proportions as he tried to get comfortable.

The room had warmed up since he'd gotten back. That could have been because he'd finally gotten into dry clothes. Or it also could be a side effect of Vanya. Pogo had made it sound like her ability was constantly morphing to meet the most random of situations. He'd made her sound uncontrollable, volatile, unpredictable, with an ability that trailed after her every passing whim like a lit fuse.

And currently she was sound asleep spooning a cereal box.

Mission protocol was to keep moving and finish the job, but this wasn't a mission and Luther had absolutely no plans to do that. They had shelter and now food; a few more day-to-day items would need to be secured, and they might have to find a way to make more money. Otherwise, there wasn't much left to do but wait for Five. And train Vanya.

Apologizing was still on his to-do list, and he'd thought about saying it right when he got back, but given the fact that her anger had literally ended the world less than twenty-four hours ago, he wanted to make sure she had enough time to cool down before he reopened the topic.

Her fury in those last few hours before jumping had seemed oceanic, deep and relentless and overwhelming. Which nagged at him. He'd known she was upset about Allison, but he'd told her she was going to be okay. Vanya had literally seen Allison for herself in the basement. So her dense explosion of anger still didn't make as much sense as he knew it should. For as much as that anger had ended the world, there had seemed to be something incredibly personal about it too. And Luther couldn't exactly accuse any one of them of being close enough to be personal with Vanya. Allison had started trying, but it hadn't been enough.

Still. What was apparent from this side of the apocalypse was that the Vanya from 2019 with glowing, ruthless eyes was not the same one he'd sat across from at breakfast that morning. He'd had a lifetime to figure out how to live everyday life with his power. Vanya had gotten a day. He could imagine it was disorienting; she was going to need his help. It was an easier explanation, at least, than trying to explain to Vanya that when everyone else had left him and she hadn't, that meant something to Luther.

His mind returned to the plan he'd begun formulating while he was walking the aisles of the store and pretending he didn't notice everyone staring at him. Because of Dad and the meds, none of them knew what Vanya's grab-bag powers were going to do next, least of all her, which meant getting that figured out first. Then they'd move on to control. He should probably teach her some hand-to-hand combat forms after that, assuming Five hadn't come busting back by then.

If he could get her through power control and basic fighting moves, he'd be satisfied. Five had said they needed to take her with them and fix her. Right now, that was the only plan he cared about.

000

1960

"Damn it," Klaus dropped the fork, letting it hit the butcher block counter unimpeded. He was too frustrated to keep being quiet about the fact he was in the kitchen at three a.m. trying to make chicken salad.

He didn't even like chicken salad.

But he'd had the horrifying realization a few hours ago that he was no longer seeing the two dead asshole ex-husbands anymore. Which meant even more of his powers were returning, and they were acting independently of his conscious choices. Sure, he'd been trying to block out the old gasbags for months now, eight to be specific, but it wasn't like he'd been actively trying recently. Like puzzle pieces snapping together, he'd just been able to…do it one day. In fact, Klaus couldn't remember the last time he had seen them.

They were out of mayonnaise. Guess he was substituting ranch dressing.

Klaus stirred the slop of ingredients together with a heavy wooden spoon, feeling the ripple of energy and power that had taken up residence under every inch of his skin. He felt drunk on it, weirdly enough. He'd spent three quarters of his life searching for a consistent high; now that he'd gotten it, Klaus wished he could zap it out through his fingers and go back to the uncomfortable, barely there control he'd always had.

And Ben asking him about it every chance he got wasn't helping. Klaus hated to think it, but this might have actually been quite fun if Ben wasn't around and intent on playing the part of the angel on his shoulder all the time. Then it might not have bothered him so much that Mrs. Randolph's inner circle had increased exponentially. Like a warren of elderly rabbits, they just kept coming. Klaus would have been okay if his imaginary sphere of influence was inflating. He wasn't okay that his actual powers were increasing right along with it.

He wanted—needed—help, and the one person he needed it from wasn't available.

On impulse, Klaus looked up, trying to feel outward to make sure Ben wasn't anywhere close without getting his attention. Then, satisfied that he was alone, Klaus tried again. Eyes shut. One hand white-knuckling the spoon handle. Feet planted firmly on the laminate floor. Concentrate. A million galaxies formed and then annihilated themselves as his powers hurtled out through endless space…faster and faster…and…nothing.

Klaus let out the breath he'd been holding and went back to mixing ingredients. He knew he shouldn't feel this way about Dave. He should be happy that it was 1961 and the love of his life was currently still alive and unable to be conjured. But he couldn't bring himself to at the moment. Not in the middle of the night in an old lady's kitchen.

If Klaus was being honest with himself—which, gross—then what he really wanted was to talk about how disgusting plain hamburgers were and give bad summaries of Dune until his boyfriend's face was in a comically severe frown. Klaus loved Ben, and maybe it was because they'd spent so much time alone the last fifteen years or so, but the more he saw his brother, the more he missed Dave. It was the first relationship Klaus had ever felt like truly opening up for. The only one where he'd felt like trusting someone from outside his screwed-up family with facts about his screwed-up family.

And again, Dave was alive, so, yay, he guessed. But at this point, Klaus was seriously starting to wonder what had been the point of getting sober when Five had immediately turned around and spit them out in a pre-Vietnam hellhole of ten-gallon hats, depressing country music crooners, and year-round ninety-degree temperatures?

Disgusted, he finished smearing his concoction across a couple pieces of bread and headed back to his room.

000

1962

Luther was the one who broached the topic first, and when he suggested they talk strategy, Vanya simply nodded in relief.

She'd just woken up from an unintentional nap. Now it was the twilight of early evening outside the window. They were sitting on their respective beds, facing each other with their legs dangling over the sides. Well, hers were dangling; his were flat on the floor and he was leaning slightly to the right, favoring his injured shoulder.

Vanya started trying to smooth down her bed head as Luther began, "Unfortunately, I think part of this is going to be a waiting game. Until Five comes back, there isn't a lot we can do. I don't know how much Five talked to you about all this timeline stuff."

Vanya shook her head at him. Five had tried. She hadn't listened.

"Me neither." Luther rubbed his hand against his face. He was in a hotel bathrobe and his pants from earlier, and he was still wearing those stupid fingerless gloves. As if they both didn't already know what was underneath. Vanya wasn't convinced that either items were even really dry yet. "He explained a little, but everything out of his mouth had been doom and gloom, so I'm not sure how much any of it applies to this situation."

"I mean, we've been disturbing the timeline since we got here, one way or another."

"That's the part that confuses me," Luther nodded. "I don't know how much is too much interaction. I may need to get a part-time job so we have money that's correct for this time period. Otherwise, I don't know what else…"

"And the others?" she asked quietly when he didn't go on.

Vanya had been so hyperaware of interacting with Luther and keeping it together that their other siblings had seemed like a nameless dull pounding in the back of her mind. Now, she felt the crushing weight of panic. When Luther looked up at her and their eyes met, the vast fabric of time and space seemed to unfurl between them. An endless, hopeless expanse. Vanya suddenly wanted to cry so badly she felt like she was about to vomit. Her voice shook as she forced herself to state the obvious. "To be honest, I wouldn't even know where to start."

"It'll be okay." Luther's storm gray eyes were wide, open. He looked like he'd been avoiding thinking about this too. Vanya was momentarily distracted by the realization that it had been a long time since she'd actually noticed what Luther looked like. At the moment, what he looked like when he was panicked and bad at hiding it. "We have time. We can lay low for a while and get our bearings. I-I'll come up with something… His eyes had begun to go unfocused, locking in place somewhere over her head. "I'm the leader," he breathed a moment later, so quietly there was no mistaking that he was saying it to himself while something like despair pulled his determined expression apart.

Vanya was hit all at once with the realization that the comment he'd made over breakfast hadn't been about reasserting rank. He'd been psyching himself up.

"Maybe they'll be looking for us too," she offered after a few moments of silence between them. "We know that Five will be, at least."

Luther nodded, coming back to himself. "Right." This time when he focused on her, he looked normal again. Stoic and imposing. "Either way, I don't think we should try to track down Dad."

Vanya had been too afraid to say it, but it still surprised her that Luther had. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Really? You don't think we should contact him?"

"He's unpredictable. And even if he did agree to help us, there'd be something in it for him. It's too much of a risk."

"Too much of a risk…" Vanya repeated. A risk like she'd been. Like father like daughter.

Luther didn't seem to hear her. "He already got in the way of your training once, and if he sees too much, he may try to do it again."

That got her attention. "He what?"

"Your training," Luther repeated as if they were already on the same page about this. "He shouldn't be involved this time. He'll just slow us down while we wait for Five and the others."

"Wait, I don't think…"

But Luther was already ticking off tasks like this was the checklist he'd been building in his head all day. "…what we'll need to know, so once we figure that out, I'll have a better idea of exercises. It'll probably have to be smaller-scale, this room isn't very big. It's workable though. We'll definitely need to start with narrowing down your precision. You need better control…"

Overwhelmed, Vanya stood abruptly, cutting him off with the movement, and walked to the foot of her bed. She faced him from there, a safe distance away. Her heart felt like it was caving in behind her ribs, and she had no idea how her emotions had managed to do a total 180 in the space of a breath. It left her feeling unsteady on her feet and in her skin. She met Luther's surprised eyes anyway. "I'm always in control." It hurt to say it, because she simultaneously had to admit to herself that she'd been in control throughout the destruction of the last forty-eight hours.

Then she turned and swiftly fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Unlike the sound-proof nightmare room in the basement, noise echoed crazily throughout the bathroom as she turned on the overhead fan and then started the tap running. Then Vanya slid down to her knees and elbows, crouching over the faux-tile laminate flooring. She was starting to feel stiff from everything that had happened, and her muscles ached as she pressed her face into her arm in an attempt to stifle the sound of her crying.

It was easy to spiral into a conversation with Luther, get lost in his dogged determination for just long enough that she forgot she was angry. But then she'd remember and she'd be angry all the more for forgetting.

But this time was worse because now she'd gone and shattered their unspoken truce. For as much as she oscillated between anger and worry and paranoia, the last thing she'd wanted to do was drag out their last face-to-face conversation and argue over its corpse about whose fault and how much. Not when Luther had won that round. Not when she'd ended the world because he'd been the last in a long line of betrayals that finally tipped the scales.

Vanya knew that they didn't have a choice; they had to work together right now. But she also knew it was only a matter of time until she cracked under the pressure. At this rate, it was going to be sooner rather than later.

*Klaus voice* Thank you, Katie *blows kiss*

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