The main concert hall of the Icarus Theatre was void of every seat, but this wasn't unusual considering the fact that it was a closed practise for the St. Pluvium Chamber Orchestra. Hidden in the folds of the shadows, Allison watched on as men & women of every age sat upon the stage with instruments that both dwarfed their players and were dwarfed by said players. From strings that stood tall & strong like the most curvaceous of women, to the brasses that shone like fireflies under the bright lighting of the stage.
It was easy enough for Allison to spot her sister amongst the rest of the orchestra players, mostly because she was stood at the front of the stage in front of everyone else. With the rest of the orchestra & the conductor placed at her back in their dark & muted clothes and Number Seven dressed in the most colourful outfit she had ever seen her sister wear (a striped retro shirt that had been stuffed into a pair of acid-washed jeans & sneakers), Vanya looked like an opera singer who was performing her soul-dazzling solo to the world.
Sweat plastered the wayward strands of hair to her face as she plucked & strummed at her beloved violin. Though it was poised just so—nestled between chin & hand—the instrument was never still. Vanya rocked & swayed with the music, her eyes never once opening as she wrought the strings like a mad man released. The bow raged feverishly across the taut strings and created an enchanting melody which thrummed through everything that it touched. Absently, Allison wondered when the precious instrument from their childhood had been painted such a stark white, but that was soon lost to the story they told. It was clear, that here, on this stage that Vanya was finally the main character of her own story and she wrote it beautifully (Allison couldn't recall the last time she had called or even heard her sister be called 'beautiful' which was rather sad).
Allison watched the woman in front of her, and although intimately she knew that the woman up there was her sister, she just couldn't recognise her (she hadn't been able to connect the mother to the sister since the funeral, but that was besides the point). It startled her to note that she didn't recognise the woman up there; Vanya wasn't supposed to be like that—Allison was the attention-seeker, the one in the spotlight—Vanya was supposed to be soft & small, timid & quiet. Easy to miss, easy to overlook, easy to lose in the crowd or in a world full of far shinier and louder things. That was Vanya. Always in the shadows, out of the spotlight and forever stuck on the outside, looking in.
Not now, though, now she was different. She shone brighter than ever before—far brighter than Allison—brighter in a way that was almost hypnotic. Something so consuming that even if Allison closed her eyes, even if she stuck her fingers in her ears, she would still be able to hear the music deep in her soul. Number Seven looked breathtakingly fearless up on that stage, like she was some divine creature who had been sent to Earth to deliver a message of both destruction and salvation. Because that's what she did; what her music was doing to her in that moment. In the concert hall, to a (secret) audience of one, Vanya had managed to destroy every carefully made barrier built up around Allison; broken down and built back up again. She didn't know when she had started crying.
Her passion was so strong that Allison felt like she was going to—happily—drown in it; her music filled the theatre, brushing up against her ears and snugging in close to her heart. Allison didn't recognise the piece (she wasn't exactly an expert in music—classical or otherwise—despite that small dip into the industry back in the noughties), but she thought that it was a nice change of pace from the usual solemn things that Vanya had played in their childhood and she found herself quite enjoying it.
She had listened to Vanya's songs play a million times before, she knew most of them by heart as they played the soundtrack to their childhood. But this…this was different, new; something entirely out of her wheelhouse. She'd never heard or seen her sister play like this before. It was like Vanya had melded with her violin. The zeal was clear on her face, in her figure and shared by the people around her. Together, they made a song—no, a ballad—that reached out to touch you, to soak you & drown you, consuming you whole in an existence entirely made of melodic tones.
It was clear that Vanya had finally found her people; that if there was anyone else who would know about the intricacies of music like her sister did, then it would be these very same people in this very room. Although Allison had grown up with a house full of music and the endless training lessons where Number Three had spent hours trying to decipher the various notes that made up a certain sound to better hypnotise others with,, she could never have hoped to reach the same sort of level. At least not organically. If it were anything like her acting career, she could have just Rumoured the higher ups to get what she wanted, but music had never really been her forte to begin with. And when she looked at Vanya up there, riding high, she knew that she was far happier to watch from the shadows just as she had done once upon a time.
Allison was ashamed to admit that she'd never gone to one of Vanya's performances before—in school or otherwise—but as she sat there secretly listening to her sister play, she found herself quickly lost in the throes of the St. Pluvium Chamber Orchestra (on a day that had already started off rather terribly, it was a rather nice spot of sunshine). Closing her eyes and nodding her head along to the unknown tune, Allison found her thoughts drifting to happier times, to simpler times.
Number Three could remember days where she & her rowdier siblings had yelled at Vanya to keep the God-awful racket down, before laughing cynically as Number Seven burst into tears at their jeers. There had been days where Number Five would sneer at them from the doorway of the music room where the sound of Vanya's tiny inexperienced fingers couldn't quite reach the needed strings to make the songs sound just right. How amateurish attempts to play even the simplest of songs/nursery rhymes wrought frustrated tears and rosy red cheeks from the girl, who found that she couldn't even get something so simple right in a house full of super heroes.
But there were also days (the ones that played more prominently in her memories) of Vanya picking up her beloved instrument—the one thing Father had deigned to gift the girl—and playing something that actually resembled a song. How lithe fingers gripped tight to the bow and danced upon taut strings with the essence of a fairy. Vanya had always been very meek & mild, a very demure type of child and yet, whenever she took up the instrument in her hands, you just knew that that melody came from her very soul and that her hands were only the tools to make itself known.
Their reunion had exactly been on the best of terms; a lot of accusations thrown, lines were drawn and the two sisters had been at each other's throats since the funeral. Granted, the ire on Vanya's part wasn't exactly unwarranted, she just wished that her sister would let it go. They had been kids—toddlers—when she had Rumoured her sister, and irreversibly changed her life all because their father had told her to do so. She could still remember being so terribly scared to go down into the deep, dark basement where Vanya had been kept, isolated away from the rest of them because of her mysterious 'illness' An illness, Allison now knew to be false & fabricated. So yes, she understood, but she also wished she would let sleeping dogs lie (part of her wondered if Rumouring Vanya again would fix everything).
And then all too soon, the orchestral practise had finished, dropping the concert hall back into deafening silence once more. Allison found herself mourning the raucous singing of the melody which had filled the room previously and as she watched the musicians pack up their instruments at the end of the practice, her eyes remained glued to her sister who almost seemed to glow up there on that stage.
It was easy enough to corner Vanya in the bathroom, where she hoped to talk to her sister about the thing with Mom that she had come to talk to her about in the first place (Luther had been acting almost obsessively glued to the idea that Mom had killed Dad, ever since they had discovered the video tape pertaining to their father's death). But what Allison hadn't expected however, was to find the tiled room preoccupied by her sister and her fellow female musicians. Pausing in the doorway, she watched as they crowded around her at the sinks to crow & sing their praises and pat her back/shoulder as they expressed their awe at her performance during the orchestral practise. It was clear to Allison that there was a reason her sister had made first chair, and she wondered if this is what it meant to get to the top on your own merits.
Vanya looked so happy even as she splashed water against her face in an attempt to wash the sweat from her face. Allison had never seen her so happy like this before. Which is to say, that she didn't think that Vanya was always solemn because everyone was happy at some point or another; she knew what happiness looked like, but for some reason it still seemed odd enough to note. As Vanya stood at the sinks, she was told again & again by her peers & fellow musicians—people who valued music just as much as she did, people from the same industry who plied her with questions & advice—just how brilliant she had been.
It was the sort of praise that she hadn't been familiar with as children (most of Father's sparse praise had been no more than a few words, nothing flowery, and only for the ears of the Umbrella Academy) and it showed. Her cheeks had flushed red with both embarrassment and exhaustion, she glowed with happiness as she replied with little anecdotes here & there, nodded her thanks and commented on various notes of her colleagues' own performances. Allison felt a stab of guilt pierce at her heart as she watched the scene play out, this was the kind of life that Number Three had barred Number Seven from with her Rumour, this kind of praise and showmanship.
And in her mind's eye, she could hear every single one of her own Rumours coming back to haunt her; ones that swirled around & around, just taunting her with the tantalising temptations and double-edged words. I Heard a Rumour…that you're really tired and you wanna go to bed. I Heard a Rumour…that I made the soccer team. I Heard a Rumour…that you wanna be my friend. I Heard a Rumour…that you like Brock instead. I Heard a Rumour…that I did it in one take. I Heard a Rumour…that you left me alone! I Heard a Rumour…that you stopped crying! I Heard a Rumour…that you think I'm perfect for this role! I Heard a Rumour…that you loved me! I Heard a Rumour…that you think you're just ordinary…!
"…Allison?" Vanya's voice jerked Allison from her stupor. Glancing upwards to meet confused & concerned eyes, Number Three found herself finally alone in the bathroom with her sister. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh…" For the first time in a while, Allison found herself uncharacteristically fumbling for how to respond or approach the youngest of her siblings. What was she supposed to do here? Talk to her? Tell her how amazing she had been? Sink to her knees and beg for the forgiveness of her previous actions?
"Allison?"
"…You were marvellous, Vanya!" Allison smiled, falling back into the old adage of 'fake it 'til you make it' as she pasted a fake smile to her lips. Part of her wanted to cut her sister back down to size, whilst the other half told her to burn this image of Vanya, flushed & happy, into her mind for safekeeping. "You were so good, you did great!"
"You…were watching?" Vanya puzzled, her brows pulled together in confusion.
"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you've never come to one of my shows before…" Vanya narrowed a glare at her. "Why are you really here? What d'you want?"
"What—what makes you think I want anything?" Allison fumbled.
"Allison" Vanya scowled, "I don't have time for your coy words, so just spit it out already"
"I—I'm not being coy, I meant it"
"Oh really?" Vanya turned fully to face her sister, leaning back against the sinks with her arms crossed. "And why would I believe anything you have to say?"
"I'm just being honest!"
"Like a woman whose based her entire life around Rumours? Unlike you, Allison, some people actually mean what they say"
"Well, some people" Allison drew herself, feeling affronted by Vanya's sudden attack. "Need to learn to keep their opinions to themselves"
"No one forced you to come here!"
"I came, because I needed to talk to you! But you clearly have things to say!"
"—I-I never said that!"
"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO!" Allison shot up, jumping to her feet as she finally exploded. "I'M YOUR SISTER, I KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO TALK!"
"SINCE WHEN?" Vanya retorted, matching her tone as she drew herself up to her full height. Stalking closer to her taller sister, Vanya matched her step-for-step and all of the toilet stall doors began to swing back & forth. "YOU'D HAVE TO PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR OWN ASS TO DO THAT!"
"THAT'S NOT FAIR—!"
"FAIR? FAIR? WHEN HAS BEING YOUR SISTER EVER BEEN FAIR? WHEN HAS ANYTHING IN OUR FAMILY EVER BEEN FAIR? ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT IT WAS DAD'S FAULT, BUT HE'S DEAD, SO IT TURNS OUT YOU'RE THE ASSHOLES!"
CRACK!
Allison's mouth suddenly ran dry as every single mirror behind Vanya suddenly found itself sporting a very long & large crack through them. It looked like a scar had been carved into the crystalline glass and the actress now found herself staring at several jagged reflections of herself alongside the glistening blue eyes of her sister, eyes that seemed almost alien. And yet, she could not find it in herself to stop; if she stopped her tirade now—now when they were finally getting somewhere—then she didn't know if she would have the courage to broach her sister or the topic again.
"YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!" Allison roared, "I WANTED TO BE HERE FOR YOU—!'
"OH! OF COURSE!" Vanya rolled her eyes, seemingly unawares of the carnage she wrought as she threw her hands up in exasperation, "THIS IS ALL ABOUT YOU! CAN'T EVEN GO TO THE THEATRE WITHOUT MAKING THE FRONT PAGE, CAN YOU ALLISON?"
"—ONLY NOW, YOU WON'T EVEN CONSIDER HEARING WHAT I HAVE TO SAY—!"
"AND WHAT IN OUR HISTORY, WOULD MAKE YOU THINK THAT I WOULD EVER DO THAT?!"
"—BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MOST UNFORGIVING EXCUSE FOR A SISTER—!"
"…WAIT A MINUTE!" Vanya blinked, her expression turning from puce-coloured rage to something a little more introspective as a thought seemed to strike her. "WAIT A MINUTE—!"
"—NOTHING I SAY WILL EVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU—!" Allison steamrolled on, both hoping to pull something out of her sister besides snide comments & sideways glares, and she had found that once she began on her tirade, she couldn't really stop. Things in motion, tended to stay in motion, afterall.
"—I AM A MOTHER AND A TEACHER, ALLISON!" Vanya snapped, "I KNOW YOU'RE JUST TRYING TO GENERATE A CATHARSIS FOR ME!"
"—IS IT WORKING?" Allison retorted.
"—A LITTLE BIT!"
For the moment, both women stood panting in the bathroom as they stared at each other from across the room. The gale wrought by Vanya's powers had diminished, no longer making the toilet stalls bang or the taps rattle. In fact, the only sign that they had been there to begin with was the large scar carved through the broken mirrors. Inwardly, Allison was glad that they had been left alone (and they had likely driven off anyone who had come to call with all of their chaos). Only the flickering lights above their head beat in time to Allison's wildly fluttering heart; just as she previously had thought her sister like an otherworldly messenger bringing news of both salvation & destruction, right here she had been introduced to the destruction part. Vanya could be scary when she wanted to be.
"…I still haven't forgiven you, y'know" Vanya said, her voice still ripped like thunder through the room even though it had raised no higher than a murmur.
"I know" Allison rasped, still unused to the sudden changes in volume (it hurt, but she knew that she was going to have to work extra hard to regain her sister's trust). Her tongue darted out to wet her paint-stained lips. "Will—will you ever?"
"I don't know…" Vanya trailed off, unable to look her sister in the eye.
"I'm, uh, I'm sorry" Allison stammered, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting.
"Huh?"
"I'm—I'm not good at this whole sister thing"
"I hadn't noticed" Vanya smiled wryly. "…Now what's so damn important that you had to sneak all the way in here?"
"Um, right, can you come back to the house?"
"Why…?"
"We're having a family meeting"
"And you guys want me there?"
"Of course"
"Hm"
"It's about Mom"
"Mom?"
"…Hey, what did happen with Claire? With Patrick? You never said" Vanya asked, her voice cutting through the awkward silence as she clenched her hands inside her pockets. Warily eyeing up the taller woman next to him, Vanya watched her elder sister's expression fall to something more downtrodden and became buried in her collar. Although she had thrown her divorce back into her sister's face more than once, that didn't mean she truly enjoyed her sister's pain, it just meant that she was still a little sour about being Rumoured by her sister all those years ago (and everything that befell that little sentence).
"Yeah, I don't wanna talk about it" Allison turned her gaze away as they walked down the street, and towards the Umbrella Academy. In fact, they could already see the edges of the academy on the horizon.
"It's just that when we were kids" Vanya swallowed thickly as she traced the grouted bricks at her feet, "You never shut up. It's weird seeing you so quiet"
"Yeah" Allison scoffed, "Just as weird as seeing you so open?"
"Hm"
"…Things got ugly between me and Patrick" Allison swallowed thickly. She seemed surprised that she was even saying it. Vanya was definitely surprised that her sister was actually talking to her in a rather civil manner. "Now the court says I have to do this stupid mandatory therapy thing before I can have visitation"
"What for?"
"…" Allison toed the pebbles at her feet as the paused at a pedestrian crossing.
"You used your Rumour on her" Vanya felt herself fill with stone cold dread. She was starting to dread hearing her sister out.
"I—I mean, there were days where she'd have these epic meltdowns and no matter what I said, she wouldn't stop!" Allison tried to defend herself, "She was three then, and I—I know that's what three year olds are s'posed to do—but I…So I said that I would only do it just that one time"
"Only, it wasn't just that one time, was it?"
"I told myself that any parent with my power would do the exact same! That it wasn't wrong and I just had an advantage! I mean, from the time that I was little, I used it to get everything that I have ever wanted"
"Mmhmm"
"With Dad, with my career…"
"With Luther?"
"…But now I know that nothing in my life was real" Allison spared a glance towards her sister at the (spot-on) anecdote as the two shuffled down the home stretch of the academy; the iron gates were already in view. "So I'm starting over. I just didn't think that it would be so hard"
"That's kind how you know its working" Vanya offered with a half-hearted shrug. It sounded like she was speaking from experience.
"…?" Allison quirked a puzzled brow in her direction.
"It may sound kinda corny, but the good stuff is always the hardest things to fight for" Vanya replied as she hauled the front gate open. "Some things just take time"
"Yeah" Allison scoffed in disbelief. Honestly, those pretty words could be crocheted on a grandmother's pillow. "And some things just stay broken"
"Well, we know all about broken, don't we?"
Allison's lips twitched upwards at the corners, "How—how'd you deal with Theodore's tantrums?" Because there were undoubtably tantrums that had come from her once toddler nephew.
"I screamed at the trees a lot" Vanya shrugged as if it were obvious. "It was a good thing we were in the middle of nowhere because I'm pretty sure that I flattened most of the surrounding forestry"
"Snrt" Allison snorted a dry chuckle; a genuine noise, something that was entirely unlike the fake little chitters that she used for public appearances.
"Oh, and Allison?" Vanya paused atop the uppermost step, the front door propped open in her hand as she turned to face her expectant sister. "I think it goes without saying, but if you ever try to Rumour my son, I will slit your throat"