The first time Theodore had seen Don Diego's apartment, he could easily admit that it wasn't what he had expected and yet at the same time, it fit him perfectly. As it turned out, Don Diego's place was situated above the local boxing gym in a small apartment shared with the grouchy owner/employer of said place and his fat little dog. The owner—Al (a British boxing coach)—had apparently rented the spare room to him free of charge in exchange for Don Diego's services. It would depend on the day, but typically those services included either fighting in the ring or wiping down the mats.

The spare room—Don Diego's room—Theodore was met with low-hanging lights and exposed brick walls. A full length mirror that had been taken from the academy was hung on the back of the bedroom door and a crocheted image of Number Two's domino mask & a pair of crossed knives that lay framed in a sleek black frame. The lack of dust collecting around the frame suggested that the item was one of his don's most prized possessions, alongside the few family-related trinkets which had been pinned to the cork-board. The trinkets in question were a stack of old gossip magazines & opera posters that sat pinned beneath some yellowing newspapers, plus a selection of Umbrella Academy figurines which lined one of the windowsills.

A single twin bed (the one in which he and Munchie now lay curled upon, his head propped up by a couple of musty pillows) had been shoved into one corner, more or less out of the way. From his vantage point, Theodore could spot a selection of coffee-stained boxing posters with his don's face plastered across the front of them, that sat stacked off to one side and the old police radio that sat on the windowsil (plus all the other work-related items that came with being a freelancing Private Investigator). The remaining junk sprawled about the room belonged to either Al or Munchie. Theodore liked to think that it was like a poor man's lair or the Bat Cave on a budget.

It was pitch black outside when Theodore woke briefly to the sound of heavy footsteps that thundered up the short flight of stairs and another weight was added to the bed beside him. Rolling over, Theodore blearily peeled his tired eyes open just enough that he could see Don Diego and Luther standing over him, whilst Don Fën's back stared back at him. He scrunched his nose up in disgust at the scent of alcohol and vomit emanating off of him, but he was glad for the extra warmth.

Rolled on his side, Number Five was delicately arranged so that if he did indeed vomit again, at least he wouldn't choke on it. Across the way, Dolores was placed on a spare chair off to the side, the one in which Munchie seemed to be rather interested in (the dog must've climbed from the bed when Theodore was still out of it).

"Funny" Diego snorted softly as he patted the mannequin's bald head and turned to watch his brother in repose. "If I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say that he looks almost adorable in his sleep"

"Well, don't worry" Luther replied as he joined his brother by the foot of the bed. "He'll sober up eventually and be back to his normal, unpleasant self"

"Yeah, I can't wait that long. I need to find out what his connection is with these lunatics before someone else gets hurt" Diego retorted before he took note of Theodore peeking over the edge of Five's shoulder. Heavy lids blinked up at the two men as if he were physically fighting to keep them open and the boy's disgusted reaction at his new bunkmate made his lips twitch up at the corners. "You all right there, Teddy?"

" 'm h'vlad, Don…" Theodore grumbled as he flopped back against the pillows and pulled the scratchy blankets back up over his head as he gave in to the urge to sleep.

"…Vlad?" Luther mouthed in confusion, before he turned to his brother to share in his puzzlement only to find that Diego seemed to understand what their nephew was saying. Shaking off the confusion that came with the strange word, he offered a different query instead. "All that stuff that he was saying before…what do you think he meant by that?"

Not that his efforts seemed to matter because Diego just ignored him as he was wont to do. Instead, Number Two raised a hand for silence as he crept over towards the bedroom door and palmed one of his knives in the process. Shushing Luther, Diego went to open the door with knife in hand before he found himself having to jump back a pace or two to avoid getting hit in the face. The door quickly swung open, squeaking on it hinges and banged up against the inner wall as Al burst his way inside.

"…If you throw another one of those goddamn knives at me" Al greeted threateningly. "I'm pressing charges!"

"What do you want, Al?" Diego huffed, easily dropping into a far more relaxed stance. It was Luther's only indicator that this man was not someone to clobber, even though he continued to eye the man warily and subconsciously placed himself between the bed & the door.

"I ain't your secretary" Al grouched, standing in the doorway with arms crossed. "And I ain't your mother"

"Yeah, yeah" Diego replied, waving off the usual remark. More than once the old man had answered his PI client calls or found himself mothering the young man in some way.

"Some lady called for you; said she needed your help"

"What lady?" Diego perked up; there only three who came to mind and one was already dead.

"I dunno" He shrugged. "Some, uh, detective. I think she said her name was uh, Blotch or something…"

"Patch?" Diego translated, his heart skipping a beat.

"Yeah, her" Al grunted as he offered a tiny slip of paper covered in messy scrawl, something which clearly contained whatever message he had been asked to pass on. "She needs you to meet her at that motel, the dump over on Calhoun"

"When?"

"About half an hour ago…" Al shrugged as he turned to leave, tossing those last remarks over his shoulder as he went. "Uh, she said she found your brother"

"Well, that doesn't make sense" Diego muttered in confusion as he shared a glance with Luther before glancing over at the bed where the two boys lay. Admittedly, it did take them a minute to remember that they had more than one living brother. "…Klaus!"

"Go, I'll wait here with" Luther sighed, nodding towards the door as Diego left without another word. "Them…"

28 March 2019

"Oh, so that's what Vanya meant by territorial" Luther had stepped out for only a moment to use the bathroom in the early hours the morning, sometime after Diego had left to retrieve Klaus. So when he returned to the bedroom, he was greeted to the sight that made him pause for a moment as he took it in; before he fished around in one of his pockets as he looked for his phone to take a photo. In the brief window that he'd been gone, Five must've awoken for a moment as the glass of water & the aspirin which had been placed on the bedside table were gone, and he had returned to the bed with his mannequin in tow. Whilst Five clung to the half-dressed mannequin, Theodore in turn, had wrapped himself around Five's small frame and was cuddling him like he was a teddy bear as gentle snores fell from his lips. It was all very cute and perfect blackmail material!

CLICK! FLASH!

"Shit—! No, wait—!" Luther cursed under his breath when he realised that he'd left the flash on, but it was too late. When Five was roused from sleep for the second time, he found himself entrapped in small arms (with one of them being cast in a bright pink bandage. It made him wonder what had happened there?). Following them back to the person behind, he saw that it was his nephew in repose.

Huh. Like mother, like son. Speaking of his mother, where IS Vanya? Five yawned tiredly as his sluggish thoughts turned back to a similar incident earlier in the week. At least until it seemed to dawn on him just what had roused him from sleep. Rolling back over to the front, he narrowed a glare at his deer-in-the-headlights brother whose phone was still held aloft.

"What?" Five grumbled, looking for all the world like the teenager he appeared to be as he tried to prop himself up. Unfortunately, that task was easier said than done, especially with one and a half other people in the twin bed with him and wrapped around his young form. Eventually, he opted for gently placing Dolores on the floor by the head of the bed and forcefully pried Theodore's arms off of his waist. Inwardly, Luther was worried that the action would wake the bandaged tween, but all he did was grunt in displeasure and roll over to face the wall, taking the blankets with him as Five leant up against the headboard.

"Nothing!" Luther hurriedly replied (almost too hurriedly) as the letters rushed together and he stuffed his phone back into his pocket

"Did you—did you just take a photo?!" Five squinted at him.

"No, no, no! I was just…just looking for a signal!" Luther excused, inwardly wincing at just how bad of an excuse that it was. Five either bought it or brushed it off as he placed his (undoubtably) aching head in hands (he did drink an entire bottle of vodka alone in one sitting).

The sound of Theodore grumbling in his sleep as he tossed & turned over again, seemingly knocked Five out of his reverie. He turned to Luther who had taken the time to pull up a stool that he was sure would give out under his weight; but, miraculously, it didn't. Looking at him, he couldn't help but see the image of his broken corpse flash across his eyes or the way his brother had offered the eye (pulled from its socket) to anyone who could help, the same one that now burnt a hole in his pocket.

"Five" Luther's tongue—heavy & cotton-leadened—darted out to wet dry lips, his throat suddenly dry, though he wasn't quite sure why. "What's going on?"

"The apocalypse is coming" Five chuckled darkly, unable to meet his brother's gaze.

A million and one questions burned on Luther's tongue at that; questions about what had happened to Five. What was this mission that he was so dead set on completing? Who was the masked gunmen—Hazel & Cha-Cha—really were? What did they want with their family? With the Umbrella Academy? And so on. But as he sat there watching his little broth polish the old glass eye which he had plucked from the recesses of his pockets and began to polish it like an addict needing his fix, Luther found himself pausing to reconsider for once. In the end, he decided a simple question was the safest option.

"When's it s'posed to happen?" Luther swallowed (because it was a hard thing to believe at face value). "This…apocalypse?"

"…I can't give you the exact hour" Five sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping over as he crooked his eyes to the right to watch Theodore's chest rise and fall. "But from what I could gather, we have four days left"

"Why didn't you say something sooner?!" Luther exclaimed, outraged that his brother had kept something so important to himself.

"It wouldn't have mattered—"

"—Of course, it would have!" He retorted, jumping to his feet. "We could've—we could've banded together and helped you tried to stop this thing!"

"For the record" Five quirked an unimpressed brow at him. "You already tried"

"What d'ya mean?" Luther murmured as he sank back into his seat.

"…I found all of you" Five admitted, blinking repeatedly as he tried to clear his suddenly misty eyes. "Your bodies"

"…We die?" Luther breathed, absolutely flabbergasted as if the notion of dying hadn't ever even occurred to him.

"Horribly" Five swallowed thickly as if the words had become stuck in his throat as the images flashed continuously in front of his eyes. One where he had stood grief-stricken amongst the burning rubble and the five bodies that lay strewn amongst the ruins before him, five very familiar-if-older bodies.

In that moment, Luther found himself understanding a little of what his brother had been through, if only because he looked so distressed when talking about it. It also explained why he was so against their help, what with them supposedly dying. "Five…"

"You were together" Five swallowed thickly as he turned his far-off gaze from the floor to his brother. "Trying to stop whomever it was that ends the world"

"Wait" Luther puzzled. "How do you know that?"

"This was clutched in your dead hand when I found you" Five gestured with the glass eye, before softly chucking it to him.

Luther turned the brown-coloured glass eye over in his hands, a little grossed out by the item in question. A few smudges of dried blood remained ingrained in the grooves of the cracked glass despite Five's repetitive polishings and a partial of a serial number was painted on the back. All in all, just your stereotypical glass eye.

"Must've ripped it outta their head before you both went down" Five concluded as Luther inspected his second most prized possession (after Dolores, of course).

"Whose head?" Luther asked, running a hair thumb across the cracked glass.

"Like I said, I don't know" Five shook his head.

"Well, there's part of a serial number on the back" Luther pointed out, trying to be helpful. "Maybe—maybe you can try to—"

"—No, that's a dead end" Five cut in, "It just another hunk of glass"

As Luther handed the clearly beloved glass eye back to Five, the time-traveller turned to spare a glance over his shoulder at their nephew who appeared to be mumbling some sort of gibberish in his sleep as he tossed & turned and curled up as close to his legs as possible. "Why's Theodore here?"

"Diego said something about a work studies internship and a fire" Luther replied softly as he tried to sort through all of the information Five had just dumped on him.

"Meritech!" Five cursed, thinking of the medical building that had been blown sky high when he had gone to interrogate the doctor. "Wait—he was in there?!"

"Yeah…" Luther drew out the word as he raised a questioning brow at Five. He could understand being worried about the younger Hargreeves, but he was unsure as to what would incur such a passionate reaction from his brother. "Diego said that they couldn't get a hold of Vanya, so they called him"

"Vanya…?" Five's brows furrowed in worried confusion. "Why wouldn't she—?"

"—I dunno" Luther shrugged as he turned his attention away from the narrowed eyes of his brother and back to his large hands which languished in his lap. "You'd have to ask Diego" But even then, he was frustratingly vague when I asked.

"Nn" Five grunted in acknowledgement, nodding shortly as worry pinched at his features. So much had happened in these last few days; he had hoped that travelling back would mean that he could fix everything but there had been more spanners thrown in to the works than he'd ever cared to admit. And now the latest one involved both his supposedly missing sister and his bandaged nephew who lay curled up next to him.

Why couldn't things ever be simple?