8:48pm, Sunday September 8th, 2019
Luther has spent his entire life trusting too much and never questioning anything.
He'd trusted their father. Trusted that he loved them, and that he wanted what was best for them, even if Luther didn't understand the methods used. He trusted they were being prepared for greatness, because Reginald Hargreeves had told them so. And even after his father turned him into a monster, Luther trusted it had been the only way to save his life. (It's what had stopped him from killing himself, back in the beginning. That it had been done 'for his sake'. Besides, if he died then his father would be alone, and Luther couldn't do that to him. Obviously, that was before he got banished to the moon.)
He'd also trusted his time on the moon had been important.
When that trust finally broke the aftershocks ended the world. After realizing his entire life had been a lie Luther didn't - couldn't - trust anyone, and Vanya had born the brunt of his disillusionment. He'd lost his father, lost his faith, lost his sense of self and almost lost Allison, and the last thing he was prepared to do was trust anyone in his life had good intentions.
After they stopped the Apocalypse Luther worked on picking up the pieces of his own broken world. Worked on earning Vanya's forgiveness, on trusting his family and being trusted by them. Worked on being more than the Good Son, the obedient soldier their father had molded him into.
But then Five got sick. Then Five disappeared. Then Five came back and tried to kill him (and almost succeeded).
Now Luther looks at the man wearing his brother's face and doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what's happening, doesn't know if they're being lied to or not, led into a trap or not. All he knows for certain is that trouble seems to follow Five like a second shadow, and the rest of the family too often find themselves pulled into the umbra. And right here they were again, this future-version of Five come back to save them with a cryptic warning on his lips, a gun in his hand and the Commission dogging his trail every step of the way.
Maybe history didn't repeat itself, but it sure as hell rhymed.
The trouble is that Luther isn't a fast thinker, never has been. He's not stupid but his intelligence is an average, humble sort of thing, especially compared to Five. And this Five isn't giving him any time to organize his thoughts, herding everyone out of the room with his arms full of papers.
"Right," he says, "Let's go."
"To the safe house?" Vanya asks, but Luther cuts in before his brother has a chance to answer.
"No," he says, stepping forward and planting his feet; an immovable object to Five's nigh unstoppable force. "Not to the safe house."
Five glares up at him, eyes flashing in predictable anger. "Luther, what the fuck? We told you-"
He takes a deep breath because Five isn't going to like what he's about to say and that's always treacherous ground to navigate. "I heard you. You said the Commission is on the way and we need to leave. Fine, I'll buy it; you've never been wrong about that before. But you're not taking us to any safe house, not yet." The color is already rising in his brother's face so he hurries on, getting it out in one long breath before he can be overrun. Before Five has a chance to talk him around in circles. "We'll go somewhere public and neutral; a diner, a mall, wherever you want, and then you're going to explain things. Because as grateful as I am that you saved us tonight, I'm not ready to put our lives completely into your hands just yet."
That declaration goes about as well as expected, a familiar, sharp look coming into Five's face, calculated insults flickering behind his eyes. He wants to argue. He wants to yell and rant and call Luther a dumbass, fling his multiple failures of leadership back at him. Five wants to cut him down until he isn't a threat anymore, because Five only saw the world in terms of threats and non-threats and Luther tries not to blame him for that, not knowing what he does about Five's life (and the more he can only guess at) but it doesn't make him any easier to deal with.
But for what it's worth - and he can acknowledge that it might be worth very little - he's the leader, and he can't send his family into a vast unknown like this. He'll be a lot more ready to trust this strange version of his brother once he understands what's happening beyond some vague threat of 'the Commission'. He needs to know why - how - Five is here. And he needs a reason to believe it's not just another trick.
Clones he can believe; it's no crazier than anything else in Five's mad world. Luther had believed him about the apocalypse and about the Commission and about being sixty years old; he'll believe in clones too. But believing Five and trusting him are two different things, and Luther doesn't trust him right now. (It probably has something to do with the gash across his chest.)
Five glances around but can tell as easily as Luther that they've united against him (that's how he'll see it, anyway). "Goddamnit," he hisses between clenched teeth, jaw ticking in agitation. He tears a hand through his hair and glowers up at Luther again before giving in. "Fine, have it your way. But it'll have to be fast. We can't protect you idiots out in the open. And if they find us-" he hesitates, seeming to search for the right words '-you will do exactly as we say. Understand?"
Luther nods his agreement along with the others; it seems a reasonable enough request in exchange for some long overdue answers.
"Then let's move," he snaps, heading for the stairs but Diego stops him with a hand hooked around his arm.
"You can't go out like that, man."
Five makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat, jerking out of Diego's hold. "Like what?"
Diego makes a point of looking him over. "Half naked. It's September, it's raining and you're not wearing a shirt. You'll freeze to death before you get a chance to help us do anything."
"You should probably put some clothes on," Luther agrees, but of course that begged the question of who's clothes he was going to be putting on, because all Five's shirts had been purchased with a 13 year old in mind.
Five looks two steps away from working himself into a fit over yet another delay but he's also smart enough to know they have a point. Surprisingly it's Klaus who smooths things over, stepping forward and hastily throwing a coat at him. "Here, use this for now. We can pick you up something along the way." Because it's Klaus, naturally it's a lady's coat - long, tapered black with fir trim at the collar and sleeves. Luther thinks it must have been pretty fashionable back in the fifties, before being banished to the back of whatever thrift store his rat-pack brother had fished it out of. Surprisingly Five doesn't even argue, just wraps it around himself with a noncommittal grunt and keeps moving.
"You know it actually kind of suits you," Klaus says appreciatively, and Luther considers chuckling but changes his mind at the look Five gives him.
"So where are we going to go?" Allison asks, "The Super Star? Ihop?"
"No," Five answers flatly, "those are the first places they'll check." He rounds on Klaus, "You're up; pick someplace quiet."
Klaus blinks in surprise. "Me?"
Five waves an impatient hand at him. "You've run all over this city looking for drugs. You know every shit-hole out of the way place there is. Take us somewhere nobody would think to look. And since we're delaying things anyway, you might as well make it somewhere with food."
Luther has to admit it's a pretty solid strategy. If anyone would know how to disappear into the cities' underbelly, it would be Klaus.
"Ah, shit- lemmie think...food, clothes...yeah ok, got it. Follow me." He hops down the stairs but instead of heading through the foyer Five detours them towards the kitchen.
"I need our briefcase," he explains, and duel slivers of doubt and fear lodge themselves firmly underneath Luther's ribcage.
"Since when did you need a briefcase to travel?" Diego asks, trying to keep his tone casual but Luther can see his hand hovering near his knives.
"Since traveling without one fried our brain," Five answers testily, and Luther has to admit it's a good point. Their mutual suspicion doesn't go unnoticed however and Five rolls his eyes at them. "Christ guys, calm down. For the last time, it's me. And if we wanted you dead you would be by now."
Somehow the thought is less comforting than it was probably meant to be.
10:31pm, Sunday September 8th, 2019
Luther watches Five shovel forkful after forkful of food into his mouth and concludes it's probably the single most profound act of bravery he's ever seen.
The place Klaus ultimately selected for them is indeed a shit-hole. A literal hole in the wall diner, complete with greasy floors, torn pleather booths that stick to the skin and a cracked neon sign dolefully advertising a 24 hour breakfast. Pressed between a dilapidated thrift store and a bail bondsman, it isn't anywhere Luther's ever been before- and it isn't anywhere he'd care to seek out again.
"How did Klaus even find this place?" Allison wonders aloud, glancing around in distaste and trying not to touch anything.
"They probably deal drugs out of the kitchen," Diego says, eyeing the finger smeared water glasses with deep mistrust.
Luther thinks he's probably right, since the one thing that doesn't seem be coming out of the kitchen is food. (Klaus isn't there to ask because he'd disappeared as soon as they arrived, ostensibly going to find something for Five to wear. Considering all the shops are closed Luther decides he's probably better off not knowing how his brother plans to achieve that particular goal. Plausible deniability and all that.)
But none of that had stopped Five, who hadn't seemed to care about the quality of the food so long as it was marginally warm and slightly edible.
"How can you eat that?" Diego asks in open disgust.
"We ate cockroaches and spiders in the apocalypse," Five answers in between bites, his mouth full. "Greasy eggs aren't that bad. Besides, our metabolism's higher in this body, so we don't turn down food."
"I'm not sure that counts as food," Diego replies, and Five just scoffs at him.
"Neither do beetles."
Luther waits until his brother is mostly finished, because Five's obviously hungry and Luther spent four years on the moon waiting months between food rations so he understands the kind of hunger that could lead someone to eat like that. But as soon as the fork hits the plate he leans forward, over-sized hands flat on the table. "Ok, start talking."
Five gives a mirthless scoff. "You'll need to be more specific. What is it you want to know?"
"Are you really a clone?"
Five sighs in terminal disappointment. "Jesus Christ, Luther. We're going to be here all damn night if that's the level you're starting at. Yes, we're a clone. Next question."
"If you're a clone then where's the real Five?" Vanya asks. She's been pretty quiet all night, sneaking glances at Five with her head down low, fingers subconsciously tracing over the red marks at her throat.
He gives her a sharp look. She withers a bit and it softens and that- that more than anything makes Luther want to trust him a little. Maybe. "We are the real Five," he says, "But we assume you mean the Prime." At their questioning gazes he adds, "Your Five, he's the Prime; the first of us. And we don't know his exact temporal location but we can tell you the Commission still has him. We're certain of that."
"How do you know?" That was Allison.
"Because we've been up and down the timeline looking for him and he's not here. Trust us, if he'd gotten away this is where he'd be. But he isn't; the trail always ends with the Commission. So if the Prime's not here then it means he's back there."
There are still too many questions; Luther's head is swimming with them. He tries to organize them, prioritize because Five had said they didn't have a lot of time and that he does believe. Five never seemed to have enough time. Funny, that. "Okay, so, the one who tried to kill us tonight- the boy. He was a clone, yeah? What about the one who appeared in the kitchen a couple days ago? Was that Five or-"
The thing that isn't his brother shakes his head. "That is the one that tried to kill you tonight. Same clone, different programming. You haven't seen the Prime in over a week. Not since we-he- was taken."
Luther sits back, thunderstruck, letting the implications wash over him. If all that's true, then that means...that means none of it had been real. The tears, the relief, the stupid fucking marshmallow sandwiches...none of it. They'd been played again. (Again.) It means their brother's still lost.
It means Five never came home at all.