"V-Ven? Don?" Theodore muffled a yawn behind his hands as his very hairy don escaped up the stairs and he stepped out into the light of the foyer. "Wha—what's going on?"

"Theodore!" Ven Allison rushed over to the young boy and pulled her nephew in for a tight hug (if only because she was glad to have something as simple as worrying about someone else to keep her mind off of the fact that Luther was now half ape), mindless of the backpack hanging from his shoulder. Pulling back, she turned him this way and that as if to inspect every inch of him, but aside from the few bumps & bruises decorating his skin, the only noticeable injury he had, was the small cut on his forehead. "What're you doing here? Are you okay? Are you hurt—?"

"I'm fine Ven, just tired" Glancing up, Theodore's roved over his ven in much the same manner as she had done for him. And just like himself, she seemed fine save for a few bumps & scratches. "Ven! You're hurt!"

"Its just a bump, Theo, I'm fine" Ven Allison smiled reassuringly even as one of her hands came up to graze the bruise already forming around her neck. Gently, she redirected the boy out of the doorway and over to one of the (mostly) intact couches in the living room.

"Mmphf!" Theodore collapsed back against the saggy cushions without much trouble, though his head still ached from that blow. He was lucky that his Loric genetics meant that it was no more than a headache, because he was sure that if he had been fully human, he would likely be looking down the barrel of a concussion or something similar.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ven Allison worried as she sat herself on the edge of the coffee table, brushing aside a few shards of glass before doing so.

"My head hurts…" Theodore whined pitifully as he sagged back into the welcoming embrace of the cushions.

"…Hang on, lemme go get the kit…" Ven Allison murmured before she rose to go and retrieve the first-aid kit, leaving Theodore to mull over his sluggish thoughts as Don Diego raced upstairs to check on A'Vera who had not made a peep since the whole ordeal began.

Mom was humming pleasantly to herself when Diego approached, worried beyond belief. With the way the gunmen were running around the house, it was a wonder she hadn't been hit (some of he gallery certainly had). "Mom" Diego's tongue darted to wet dry lips (he prayed that she was still alive and that those moving hands weren't just his mind playing tricks on him). "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am" Grace smiled serenely, eyes still glued to the cross-stitch in her hands.

"You didn't hear the noises?" Diego placed a worried hand on her shoulder, "Those guys in masks that shot up the house?"

"…What're you talking about, silly?" She chuckled softly as if the very idea of masked gunmen in the house were something straight out of a childish imagination.

"Mom…?" He swallowed thickly, unable to grasp the idea that his mother's software may very well be degrading just as he had feared.

"Mm?"

"Can we—can we talk?"

"Okay" Grace hummed pleasantly, "But only for a minute. I need to finish this cross-stitch"

"…Everything that you did for us when we were kids…for me" Diego rolled the dreaded thought around in his mind before eventually spitting it out. "Why'd you do it?"

"Because being your mother is the greatest gift of my life" Grace replied softly, putting down her cross-stitch for a moment to answer him seriously.

"…Is that you saying that?" Diego pursued, Vanya's earlier words swirled around his brain.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Diego" Grace puzzled, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I mean our father, he…made you" Diego explained softly. "When you think something, is it—is it like he's telling you what to say?"

"Your father isn't here, silly" She chuckled quietly before the smile fell from her face when she noticed that Diego's expression did not change. "Did—did I do something wrong?"

"No it's—it's not…" Diego fell into a crouch at his mother's feet, "Look, it's okay if you hated him; he was terrible to you, to all of us—"

"—Don't say that!"

"Why not? It's true. We were just tools in an experiment to him, nothing more" Diego couldn't believe that he was asking this of his mother. "So, I'm just saying, that I would…understand if, y'know, if—if you wanted to—to hurt him"

"Now, now" Grace soothed, one hand coming up to pet his bloodied cheek (Cha-Cha had gotten in a few good hits when he wasn't looking). "Mr Hargreeves was a great man. An industrialist, an inventor and an Olympic gold medalist; he made the world a better place—"

"—Stop it!" Diego hissed through clenched teeth, hands snapping up to grab his mother by the shoulders as he tried to shake some sense into her. "D'you hear me? Stop trying to defend him! Mom, you gotta feel something! He treated you worse than anyone else! You worked for him for 30 years and he didn't even give you a room to sleep in!"

"But I've got a such beautiful views right here" Grace smiled, the brief fear disappearing from her eyes as she turned to face the numerous paintings on the surrounding walls.

"…Mom, those are just paintings"

"Of course they are" Grace sighed whimsically as she glanced over at the Jean-Auguste Dominique Ingres' Portrait of Madame Leblanc. It almost sounded like she wanted to be a painting herself, instead of their mother. (It hurt). "What a wonderful world she lives in; but sometimes I wonder if she's lonely…"

Diego didn't have to be a genius to figure out that his mother wasn't completely talking about the woman in the painting anymore. Moving to sit beside on her on the chaise, Diego silently watched as she picked up the cross-stitch once more and absently began to sew. Despite her glassy-eyed stare, that wasn't all that concerning at least until the sewing needle pierced through the flesh of her thumb before pulling the thread taut. She didn't even flinch and something curdled deep in his gut. Maybe Luther was right, maybe her soft had degraded far beyond what was considered safe.

His breaths came in shaky starts as he slid one of his knives from his holster, palming it with less of the usual grace that he normally had as he took one of her arms in his hand. Swallowing thickly—audibly—Diego sliced a nice clean line down his trusting mother's forearm.

"Diego?" Grace asked in a trance-like state, not quite there anymore but still presenting an air of concern. "What are you doing?"

"Sn-sniff!" Diego sniffled cutely as he carefully pulled apart the skin to reveal an array of blinking blue lights and networking wire beneath. Taking up his bloodied knife once more, he wiggled it between the wires in an effort to reach the one that would turn her off. For good.

"It's gonna be o-o—" He gurgled, crying softly.

"Remember what we worked on?" Grace smiled reassuringly. It did not have the intended effect; it just made Diego cry harder. "Just picture the word in your mind"

"It's gonna be okay…" Diego cried, clearly distressed as he found the wire he was looking for. All it took was a single flick of his fingers to cut the chord. "M-Mom"

"Di-e-go…" Grace slurred as her matrix shut down, eyes falling shut forever. "Re…mem…ber…"

If Diego didn't know any better, he could have pretended that she was just asleep on the chaise and surrounded by her paintings, like always. It only made him sob harder.

"…Who—who were those people?" Theodore mumbled as received the washcloth from his ven, nodding his thanks (she'd already slapped a bandage to his forehead and had been mothering him ever since). The fear and adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins had disappeared, instead replaced by a sort of not-quite-there shock that made everything all topsy-turvy.

"I don't know" Ven Allison hummed as she returned to her spot on the coffee table, watching him with concern swimming in her eyes. "But we are lucky to be alive. You sure you're okay?"

"Uh huh" Theodore nodded absently as he slapped the washcloth to his forehead.

At some point Don Diego had come back downstairs from where he had gone to check on A'Vera, pacing irritably in the background as if doing so would work out whatever was swirling around in his brain. He didn't mention anything about her, but his eyes were red and puffy like he had been crying. Theodore felt a pit sink in his stomach. Eventually (after Theodore was sure that Don Diego had worn a path into the floor) Don Diego paused and turned to face them.

"Diego…?" Ven Allison prompted, turning to her brother with a raised brow.

"What are you still doing here, Theodore?" Don Diego sniped. Theodore flinched back into the cushions; Don Diego never called him by his full name and the one time he did, he had been in serious trouble.

"Uh—uh…V-Vera…" Theodore stammered, frightened tears sprang to life.

"You shouldn't be here!" Don Diego snapped, scaring Theodore even more. He'd seen his don angry before, but it was usually at someone else.

"Diego—!" Ven Allison scolded.

"No, he could've been killed!" Don Diego replied, irritably. Theodore softened slightly as he realised that Don Diego wasn't actually mad at him, but just worried about what might of happened to him. It was nice to note, but still kinda scary. "Or gotten any of us killed"

"Diego…" Ven Allison warned him again when she noticed just how scared her nephew had become. He looked like he was about two seconds away from either taking off or bursting into tears.

"…What are you even doing here, Teddy?" Don Diego sighed heavily—shakily—as he finally full took in the visage of their nephew slumped against the couch cushions. He looked like a splotch of purple staining the couch.

"…The—the Keepers…" Theodore mumbled, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth, like cotton as tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. "They, um, they're—they've been…uh, watching the apartment since—since Don Fën visited…"

"Merdari!" [Shit!] Don Diego swore under his breath (he had naturally been picking up various Loric words over the time he had spent with the Garde pair). It was clear he was worried; especially as he shared a concerned glance with Ven Allison where they seemed to have a telepathic conversation.

"Theodore" Ven Allison's tongue darted out to wet her lips, "Where's your mother? Where's Vanya?"

"I d-don't—I don't know…!" Theodore cried, hiccuping as he tried to speak. "I—I thought she—she was here…! That's—that's why I c-came here!"

"…Teddy" Don Diego came to a stop in front of his teary nephew, his voice turning soft as he tried to find out what had happened to the woman in question. "When was the last time you saw your vera?"

"Is—is she n-not h-here?" Theodore hiccuped, wide innocent eyes staring up at his don and ven.

"I'm—I'm sure she's fine" Ven Allison excused, a shaky smile painted her lips as she quietly rose to her feet and yanked Don Diego off to the side by his elbow. Together, the pair shared a hissed conversation that was not as hushed as they thought or would have liked.

The pair spared a worried glance over towards Theodore still huddled up on the couch (at some point he had picked up a deflated pillow and had curled up around it in much the same manner as Vanya used to do). "When was the last time you saw her?" Diego hissed under his breath, shifting slightly in place as he found himself filled with a cocktail of feelings. Worry for his youngest sister who might be missing & his nephew only a stone's throw away, concern for his younger sister who had a nice hand-shaped bruise forming on her throat and suspicion about just who the masked gunmen were & what they wanted with "…the boy"

"Not since the family meeting" Allison replied, fingering a locket of curls. "What about you?"

"Me too"

"Did—did she have anything else planned for today?"

"Uh…we could try the theatre? Or her music school?"

"No, I picked her up from the theatre beforehand"

"R-right, okay, then I—I'll call the music school then" Diego nodded succinctly, now that a decision was made. "She's probably just running late or something"

"Mm…" Allison nervously nibbled at her lower lip in thought, "What about Theodore? How do we deal with him?"

"…Deal with him?"

"I mean, what do we do with him now? It's not like we can just leave him alone"

"…He can crash here tonight, we've got enough beds"