"…Former employer?" Luther sounded skeptical as he scooted his seat closer to the bed, "What's this really about, Five? And don't give me any of this 'it isn't any of your business' crap! Alright?"

"…Well, it's a long story…" Five sighed heavily, the bed creaking and squeaking beneath his weight as he shifted. He spared a soft glance towards the lump that was his nephew, swallowing thickly as he watched the duvet rise & fall softly (it was the only sign that he was still breathing).

"I've got time" Luther stated as he squared up to his brother (as much as possible on the comically too-small chair).

"…They—they turned me into the perfect instrument for rehabilitation of the timeline continuum—or Corrections, as they called it" Five began after a moment as one hand reached out to play with the loose thread of the blanket beneath him. Even as he began to reveal his truth, Five found himself unable to look his brother in the eye. "I wasn't the only one, of course, there were others like me; beings out of time. Ones that were fractured—extracted—from the lives that they knew. I don't know how they got there, but I do know that none of them were as good as me. They didn't realise it, but I was biding my time, trying to figure out the right equation so I could get back. If I could just get back, then I could stop the apocalypse…and—and save the world…"

Theodore shifted, curling up close to Five (he had turned upside down at some point, which now led to his head pointing towards the end of the bed and his feet towards the headboard) as Five's solemn story continued. Five's voice was thick with emotion as he retold his story; whenever he thought about his life in the apocalyptic future, he could picture all the horrors of his day-to-day life and the little keepsakes he had managed to scrounge up. They were his only lifelines to his family in the past; like Vanya's books, for example. Or Diego's scorched knives, or Allison's half-melted Ruxpin that still sang a tinny version of The Teddy Bears' Picnic and all those cases of booze hidden in his father's cellar.

"…So" Five continued, tongue darting out to wet dry lips. "I broke my contract"

"Wait—" Luther swallowed thickly, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that another one of his siblings had strayed so far from the path of a hero. "You were a—a hitman?"

"Yes" He nodded succinctly.

"But—but you had a…a code though, right?" Luther stammered. "You didn't kill just anybody?"

"No code" Five shook his head, "We took out anyone who messed with the timeline"

"But what about innocent people?!"

"It was the only way I could get back here—"

"—But that's murder!" Luther jumped to his feet, eyes blown wide in shock.

"Jesus, Luther! Grow up! We're not kids anymore!" Five rolled his eyes in exasperation. It was times like these when Five truly saw how time had weathered some of them, whilst others still stubbornly clung to vestiges of the past, "There's no such thing as 'good guys' and 'bad guys', there's just people going about their lives. But when the world ends, all those people die! Including our family…Time changes everything"

Luther didn't know what to say, so he simply sunk back into his chair to brood. Five, glad for the (sullen/brooding) acquiesce, returned to his own thoughts as he lounged in the bed. Even though the time-travelling assassin knew that he only had four days left to stop the end of the world, he just couldn't find it in himself to leave the warm confines of the bed; nor did he have it in his heart to remove Theodore, who had someone wormed his way onto his lap without him realising. Although Five was infinitely older than his nephew, they were still physically about the same size, which made the whole ordeal a little bit more uncomfortable than it would have been had he been older/taller. Sound asleep, the Garde boy purred pleasantly as hesitant fingers played with loose locks that peered out from beneath the duvet and bounced beneath his fingertips in an almost hypnotic way.

Neither Five nor Luther could admit to being parental figures or role models, but Five liked to think that they at least had some sort of sense of family. A kind of protective feeling that had been built up over the years apart and years fighting as heroes. Even though they had never been that close with Vanya (although Five had arguably been the closest to Seven, they still hadn't been Six & Four close and now, with all those years passed, they might never be again), Five liked to think that he could do it over and try again; build up a new relationship with his nephew, and in turn, his sister…Y'know, in the four days they had left before the world exploded into a million, trillion bits.

Fiddling with the curl tucked between his calloused fingers, Five's thoughts turned to his sister in question. When they had been kids, he had been the closest to their youngest sister. That's not to say, he didn't like the others, he just a sort of contempt for them that seemed to bypass Vanya. Mostly because of her quiet & demure nature that allowed him to bounce many ideas off of her like a sounding board, and (although he barely outwardly expressed so) he had enjoyed the hours listening to her pluck at that beloved violin of hers. She hadn't been very good in the beginning, of course, but no one was, not even prodigies; but if there was one thing that Five could count on, it was her stubbornness. Although not as loud as Allison's, Vanya's determination to get something done to the best of her abilities was pretty satisfying to watch; especially when she outdid people's expectations of her. He always bore a little bit of vindictive pride when he saw her like that.

That's how he reckoned she must've been when she raised Theodore all on her lonesome. Five never knew Vanya's baby daddy, neither through the pieces of the past that he had collected throughout his years in the apocalypse (those few books of hers had been like his golden-plated treasures; with a couple in particular—THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY GOES TO: THE TEDDY BEAR'S PICNIC and THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY GOES TO: THE THEATRE—being dedicated to his nephew and niece respectively) or through his time at the Temps Commission. The man was a total mystery to the Hargreeves and both mother & son had been frustratingly tight-lipped about the whole thing; especially when it came to their powers.

Diego clearly knew something, having been the only one of their siblings to keep in touch with her after they had all gone their separate ways (and in a sense, taking up the role that Five had left behind. If he had stayed, would he have been the fun uncle who had helped to raise Theodore in his father's stead?), but he too, refused to say anything. Knowing Vanya like he thought he did, she probably would've sworn Two to a vow of secrecy, using some sort of delicious blackmail as the incentive.

And now she was…gone; there one day and gone the next. If he didn't know that Luther—full grown and breathing—was sitting only a stone's throw from him or that Theodore—asleep and purring—had sprawled himself across his lap, then he probably would've thought he'd dreamt the whole thing. It wouldn't be the first time. Stressed, Five pulled at harder at Theodore's hair than he meant to, rousing an irritated grumble from the boy, not that the time traveller seemed to notice or care. Was Diego right? Was it Five's fault that Vanya didn't feel safe in her own home anymore? Did he inadvertently put her—them—in danger? He didn't mean to; he'd only wanted to see his sister and he had been too lazy to climb all those stairs. How was he supposed to know about this new police force that had sprung up in the time he had been gone? How was he supposed to know that the Commission would send Hazel & Cha-Cha after him?

Diego had stressed his desire to find Vanya before something had befouled her; what that something was, Five had no idea, only that it would probably have something to do with these 'LANE Keepers' that he'd been hearing so much about. LANE this and LANE that, it was all he seemed to hear about these days, and sure, he probably should have taken a moment to check in on the timeline before he travelled back so that he knew what he was getting in to, but Five had been more preoccupied with getting back than the whole schematics of what to do when he got there.

For a long time, just getting back had been an obstacle in of itself; something which had taken him almost a whole lifetime. Now he just had to face the fact that everything that had befallen his choice to travel back—to break his contract—was just another obstacle he had to deal with. Because he would save the world, and in doing so, Vanya. As hard as it was to put his sister aside in his priorities, Five knew that if the world still ended, so would she and as he had told Luther many, many times, what was one person in the face of millions? Even if that one person was family. It was a hard choice, but Five knew he had to make it: to save his family, he would have to sacrifice his family.

When Theodore woke next, the midday sun was streaming in through the bedroom window and he found himself feeling rather toasty swaddled in both blankets and pinned limbs. Stretching out, his taut limbs shook with minute tremors before he fell back, boneless in a peaceful heap against his rather lumpy pillows. A gentle purr arose from his chest as he basked in the midday sun, and simply enjoyed the soothing motions of the hand carding through his hair. Vera did that sometimes when she needed something to soothe her nerves or when he needed to be calmed down from a nightmare or something similar. Like petting a cat, the action was soothing to both recipient and giver.

Blearily, Theodore peeled his eyes open to find himself confronted with the sight of Don Luther snooping through Don Diego's investigation board across the way and the scratchy material of denim pressed harshly against his cheek told him that Don Fën was stuck beneath him, acting as both pillow and plushie. Admittedly, it took him a moment for his sleep-addled mind to catch up with reality—for everything to come rushing back—particularly when he caught sight his bandaged pink arm laid out beside him, causing embarrassment to colour his cheeks red.

"…Welcome back to the land of the living" Don Fën smirked down at the boy as he tried to avoid the wayward limbs from hitting him in the face.

"Where—where's Vera?" Puzzlement pinched at Theodore's brow as he searched the bedroom for the woman in question; his voice thick and raspy with sleep.

"We were hoping you would tell us" Don Luther replied as he let go of the pinned picture he had been inspecting, "Diego seemed pretty concerned that she hasn't returned yet"

"What?" Theodore worried as he extracted himself from his don's lap with a bit of difficulty, "But—but he said that she just went out for a bit and then she'd be back!"

"…Theo" Don Luther spared a concerned look with his brother, "It's been two days"

"You sure she's not at home?" Theodore looked hurriedly between his two dons.

"Yeah, Diego checked the apartment earlier" Don Luther nodded.

"What about Mrs K's?" Theodore retorted.

"Mrs K?" Don Fën puzzled.

"Our neighbour?" Theodore clarified. "Mrs Kowalski?"

"Diego said she wasn't there either" Don Luther shook his head as he moved to sit in the small chair next to the bed in an effort to seem smaller and less threatening. It was more comical than anything else. "Is there anywhere else she might go?"

"What about the theatre?" Theodore replied as he sat up, blanket pooling at his waist as his fears reared their ugly head. Vera had never left like that before, without warning or notice of return. Not even when she and doro got into one of their fights (the ones that always started with screeching & yelling and ended up with glass shattering & bloody hands).

"No"

"School? The publishers? Queens? A'Vera's place? The Academy?" Theodore fired off one after the other, listing places that his vera might be.

With each shake of the head, each denial, each refusal to say just where his vera was, Theodore found himself growing more and more agitated. He wasn't sure if the white noise buzzing in his ears was his Legacies reacting to his emotions or if it was just all in his head. But his heart raced alongside the blood the surged through his veins and his mouth ran dry, so he knew that something was wrong. Had the world always been this loud? Suddenly scrambling from the bed, Theodore tripped over himself to get to the door, surprising his dons who hurried to both help and hinder the boy's movements.

"Shit!" Don Fën cursed as he tried to latch onto his escaping nephew, afraid that the boy was going to go search for the missing woman himself.

"Where are you going?" Don Luther panicked as he jumped to his feet to help Theodore back to his feet, where he had fallen trying to untangle himself from the sheets.

"Phone" Theodore replied shortly, getting his feet back underneath him before he made for the living room where the landline was mounted to the wall. It was almost a routine by now; one, that admittedly, he hadn't to complete for a while. Whenever one of his parents would get in this huge screaming match he would hide first and then later, call around to see where they had ended up. Because of who they were, one of them always—always—ended up in the hospital or in a holding cell.

So, every time he'd wake up after a fight (they were never short), he'd go and ring the phone. If Vera had been winning the argument, that meant Doro was in danger; but if Doro was the one with the upper hand, then it was Vera who was in the red. Around and around the two would go; the only breaks they ever got was when Doro was entrapped in some sort of probational heist (there had been so many offences by now that he could no longer keep track or hold any sort of surprise about his doro's antics) which kept him locked away. Doro didn't care for the law; he thought that he was above it, no matter how many times he got caught.

And there was a small part of Theodore that had to respect Doro's tenacity to keep their Garde status a secret for that whole time, because information like that, in this day and age could go a hot price. Something like that could have probably gotten him out of trouble quicker than you could say "Keeper". But Doro had always been a selfish type—a possessive type—and ain't nobody but him, would ever be allowed to control Vera & Theodore because of that. But that was just the way life was in the Hargreeves-Peabody household. Nice & pretty one moment, and terrifying the next. Theodore was always scared that he would wake up one day to find out that one had killed the other, because they could—and had proven—that they would go that far if pushed.

Punching in the numbers for the first hospital that sprang to mind (he had sadly memorised all of the emergency numbers of all the major ones & a few of the lesser ones that they had been known to frequent), Theodore rocked on his heels as he listened to the audible tone of the phone ring once, twice, thrice as it tried to connect. Theodore would've used his own cellphone to call, but he'd accidentally left it at the Umbrella Academy yesterday morning in his rush to get out the door. He knew where it was too; on the edge of the bathroom sink, next to the decorative soap dish and monogrammed towels. He made a mental note to pick it up later.

"Elmhurst Hospital Center" Chirped the nurse on the other end, "How may I help you?"

"Hi" Theodore swallowed thickly as he twirled the curly cord between his fingers in an attempt to calm his wildly racing heart. "I was wondering if anyone by the name of Hargreeves, Peabody or Jenkins had been admitted recently?"

"Okay hon, let me just check…"

"What are you doing?" Don Luther asked from the doorway, Don Fën curled in close to his brother, penned between him and the doorframe.

"If Vera's not where she's s'posed to be, then that means Doro's back in town" Theodore explained as he waited for the nice nurse to check the records; a hand coming up to cover the receiver so she didn't hear the other conversation. "Which means that they're arguing again, which means that there's a hospital-slash-police trip in the future. I just don't which one will be in the bed or behind the bars"

"Why…why didn't she say anything to us?" Don Luther murmured, his voice thick and tears in his eyes. He looked hurt, like finding out that Theodore's doro—Vanya's baby daddy—was less than perfect was an absolute slap in the face. It was if he had taken the whole thing as an affront to himself. Don Fën wasn't much better.

"Don Diego knows. He was there" And wasn't the whole crux of the thing? Don Diego was there when the rest couldn't even be bothered to give them the time of day, and now they had the gal to look appalled that they hadn't gone to them for help? Vera was right, her family was super hypocritical.

"…lo? Are you still there?" The nurse's voice echoed out from between his fingers.

"Yes? Hello?" Theodore returned to the call, turning slightly away from his dons as he answered.

"I'm afraid there's no one here by those names, sweetie"

"Okay, thank you"

With Elmhurst as a bust, he hung up and then he dialled the next one, and the next one. Hospitals, clinics, police stations; around & around Theodore went, asking after his parents who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the Earth. The world around him grew fuzzy as each call refused to reveal an answer; maybe not the one that he wanted, but just one that let him know what was going on—where they were and so on. Until finally, he called up the Manhattan precinct where Detective Patch worked and Doro had been arrested for the first time.

When the call was picked up, he learnt five things. One: The person who answered was not Detective Patch. Two: She had been killed in the line of duty and they suspected Don Diego for her murder. Three: Doro's latest probational officer had gone missing & he had not completed his community service. Four: No one had seen or heard from Vera in two days. Five: Theodore would be notified about any further updates concerning his safety.

Suffice to say, Theodore was not happy.

(He didn't even notice that his lumen had half-melted the phone).