Hello and welcome to my new story! I have no idea how long this will be nor do I have a set uploading schedule so please stay with me on this. As usual with us fanfic writers, I don't own anything and make no profit from this story. If you have a suggestion of what I can do with the story please leave a review or write to me in a private message here on . Please, enjoy!
They landed in a dark, unfamiliar room. The Hargreeves children stumbled over each other and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Five was on edge immediately, jumping up to defend against anyone who might catch them. He heard Vanya quietly ask where they were and was relieved that she was awake. While his siblings muttered curses as they tried to overcome their disorientation and stand up, Five tried to pinpoint where exactly he had taken them. They all startled as the orange light of a candle washed over them.
"Five?"
The boy in question turned around slowly, the hauntingly familiar voice cutting to his core. His heart stuttered as he laid eyes on the girl in the doorway. She looked exactly like he imagined she would. Unchanged. He took in the sight of her, her long, blonde tresses twisted into a braid that hung over her shoulder. The aged, worn fabric of her nightgown was the final piece of his internal puzzle. They were in her sitting room. "Gwen…" His voice was barely above a whisper, wonder filling it as he met her green gaze. He tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend that his voice was weak because of Klaus landing on him but, as he watched tears rise in Gwen's eyes, he could not deny how much he had missed her. Allison uttering his name, a trepidatious tone to the whisper, he was painfully reminded that he was not alone with his old friend. Five cleared his throat uncomfortably as he turned away slightly. "We need your help, Gwenny." Klaus gasped dramatically somewhere to his left and he was fairly certain he heard Diego ask himself if he had hit his head in the fall. "I'll explain everything," he promised, "but I need to ask some questions first." Gwen stepped farther into the room, setting down her candle as she turned to close the door. Five was relieved that she did not ask any questions in return, the display of trust causing a strange tickling sensation within him. "When are we, Gwenny?"
"September 15, 2003," she replied, sinking down onto an ottoman, "at 01.37 in the morning, if that has any relevance." Five nodded, pacing back and forth while his siblings regained their footing and took seats around the room. Gwen studied him closely, trying to discern what was different about him. He looked the same, but he did not feel the same. Whatever he had been through in the nine months since he disappeared, it had jarred him. Gwen frowned. She had no idea how long it had been for Five. The papers had spun several theories about his disappearance, but looking at him in her sitting room, she had a fairly clear picture of what had happened. It was a surprise to see him with his siblings though. She doubted that they knew who she was. Relationships outside the Umbrella Academy were strictly forbidden. Her friendship with Five was a clandestine thing, between him and the residents of Silver Townhouse.
Five faced his friend again. "I've been gone, in your timeline, for nine or ten months," he stated, "according to my calculations." Gwen nodded in agreement. He nodded along with her absently, running a hand through his hair. "Not long enough to cause any long-lasting consequences then," he continued, "Papers, news reports, what does the world know about what happened?"
"Nothing beyond the fact that you weren't in the city anymore," Gwen replied, "There were theories, of course, but no evidence nor accuracies." Five let out a breath of relief, quirking his lips thankfully in her direction. "I have questions, you know," she murmured, feeling her mind slip away from her, "but you need to hurry back to him." Absently, she heard Five move toward her and she could feel his fingers on her knees, but could not see him. "Time-traveling means moving oneself out of one timeline and replacing the self in another," she whispered, more to herself and Five than his family, "the former selves disappear, Five, which means he knows that they're not in their beds."
Five sprung into action immediately, leaving Gwen to shake herself back into the present. "We have to get back to the house, now." It was clear that his family had questions, but he shoved them toward the back door, leading into the immaculate garden. Gwen followed behind them, wrapping her arms tightly around her to combat the chill as Five opened the door. "Any advice on how to avoid suspicion?" He watched his friend bite her lip thoughtfully, the oh-so-familiar gesture setting off a sense of relief so immersive he felt unsteady on his feet.
"Tell him that you heard a strange noise," Gwen replied, looking to Diego, "and ran into the others when you went to investigate." Diego nodded, if doubtfully. "Tell him that you all heard it and wanted to discover its source on your own but eventually you all found each other and Five in my garden and that, to your knowledge, no one else saw you." Five started to reach for her but pulled back. Shooting her a small smirk, he led his siblings through the hole in her fence and disappeared from view. Gwen went back into the house, ignoring Simon's strange look as she passed him. The man had been working as a butler for her family since she was a baby and knew better than to question her late-night exploits. Rather than going back to bed, even though she was exhausted, Gwen went to the bathroom to grab the first-aid kit before she settled on her bed to wait for Five.
Five appeared in the unchanged bedroom half an hour later. The lie had worked, especially since Luther had been the one telling it. Grace had been ecstatic to see him. Hargreeves had punished him for his insubordination. He could hear Gwen's gasp as he fell, face first, onto her bed to reveal the welts from the belt Hargreeves had taken to his back. He was in too much pain to even flinch as he felt Gwen dab antiseptic-drenched cotton balls against cuts and scrapes. All he could feel as she smoothed a lotion against the throbbing marks on his back was a relief. Her hands were freezing and offered a much-needed refuge against the pain. Neither spoke as she worked on him, the whole experience rather routine despite his absence.
Only once she'd washed her hands and put away the supplies did Gwen see it fit to speak. "I must admit that you've come to me with worse," she whispered as she crawled beneath the covers beside him, "but you should avoid sleeping on your back for a week or so and have Grace check on it regularly to ensure that the cuts, however superficial they were, don't get infected." Tears were rising in her eyes but she ignored them, unsure why she was crying at all. Five grabbed her hand, though he was unable to turn his head to look at her. Gwen smiled through her tears, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "We should've left when we had the chance, huh?" She turned her head to glance at Five and was surprised to see him looking at her. There was something peculiar about the spark in his eyes, something she had never seen in them before. She wondered what it was for, but his eyelids dropped sleepily before she could ask. With a soft smile, Gwen kissed his cheek, happy that the sedative he had not noticed her injecting was working.
Five woke up fairly early. His back was hurting and the warm spot next to him was cold. A glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room told him that it was just after eight. He frowned, not remembering the last time he had slept even an hour. Despite the pain whenever he moved, he had never felt better. Absently, as he tried to rise from bed, he made a mental note to sleep for five hours more often. Ignoring the ache, he sat up. The skin of his back felt tight and uncomfortable and even though he was certain that the clothes he kept in Gwen's room were still where he left them, he doubted that he would be able to lift his arms over his head to pull on a shirt. So he ventured out of the bedroom sans shirt, looking for his best friend.
He found her in the dining room with her butler. "Morning," he murmured, sitting down at the table, "where's Monica?" Five had always liked Gwen's mother. She was kind and never questioned his presence in the townhouse. Monica Silver had refused to give up Gwen when she was born. She had been struggling with having a child and, despite the odd circumstances, had always considered herself blessed to have a daughter. When Five met her for the first time, and Gwen told her he lived with Reginald Hargreeves, she welcomed him immediately, seemingly understanding the lack of affection in his house.
"Miss Monica has spent the night with her beau," Simon replied, sliding a plate piled high with various breakfast foods in front of the boy, "and will return by noon." Five smirked into his orange juice, glancing over at Gwen. The thirteen-year-old shook her head disparagingly. Simon nodded in agreement with the unspoken truth. Monica was, for all intents and purposes, the black sheep of the honorable Silver family. Not only did she refuse to live with her parents in their upstate estate, which was unprecedented, she had a bastard child and was unable to find an, according to Annie-May Silver, impeccable suitor to engage in courtship with. Worse still, in the words of Henry Silver, she had refused to attend Ophelia Murphy's School for Elite Youth. "Though," Simon continued, refilling Gwen's black currant tea, "I don't believe she will be seeing him any longer."
Gwen coughed delicately. "Does she ever?"
While both Simon and Gwen made good-natured comments about her mother's behavior, Five marveled at the difference between his best friend and the woman he considered to be a motherly figure for him. Gwen, unlike Monica, did attend Ophelia Murphy's. The school taught children in upper-class families to speak and behave properly and Five swore that if Gwen was to end up in the Victorian era she would not seem too out of place. Of course, as she was raised by someone who mostly ignored etiquette and eloquence, some parts of her were still influenced by Monica. Like using contractions when she spoke and letting a boy sleep in her bed. And while Gwen was near the epitome of classy young lady, Monica slurped her soup and put her elbows on the table. It drove Gwen up the wall. Five grinned. It felt good to be home.
Once breakfast was over, Gwen followed Five back to her room to help him into a shirt. They were not in a hurry, Sir Reginald rarely bothered with trying to find Five after beating him. But she knew, even without getting a vision, that the others were worried about him. "Have Grace take a look at your back tonight," she instructed, carefully smoothing out the fabric of his button-down over his shoulders, "and while I would say that our door's always open, you never actually use it so… pop over when you feel like it." Five nodded and turned to face her, working on the buttons. "Also," she added, "if you're bleeding a lot, please pop into the bathroom, Simon thinks the dry cleaners have started to wonder why he always comes in with bloody carpets."
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Five assured, sliding the last button into place, "and I'll try not to be hurt next time." Gwen seemed hesitant to hug him when he opened his arms for her, making him roll his eyes and tug her close. "You could never hurt me," he whispered into her hair, "Never." She nodded against his collarbone and gently wrapped her arms around his lower back. He let her go, sighing heavily, and suddenly he was standing in his own bedroom. He walked out into the hallway and nearly collided with Ben. A fully corporeal Ben.
Ben in turn was almost toppled over by an overenthusiastic Klaus. Both of them looked at Five, then at each other, before yelling in unison. "Five is home!" They ducked as their lethal brother dove for them. They continued down the hall, still chanting his name over and over again. Allison looked out from her room, a look of barely contained amusement on her face. Luther looked disapproving and Vanya giggled behind her hand. Diego just looked exasperated. Klaus and Ben risked a glance over their shoulders and found Five looking positively murderous. Before they could react he was in front of them, his left hand wrapped around Ben's throat while the other clamped down on Klaus'.
Five was vaguely aware of Vanya yelling for him to let them go. Allison tugged at his arms, with no luck. Only when Luther grabbed his shoulders, thumbs pressing down on the sensitive skin of his back did Five release them. Pain shot up and down his skin and he gritted his teeth, growling. His reaction made his family frown in concern and reminded him that he needed to see Grace. He turned away, ignoring them in favor of searching for their robotic caregiver. She looked up when he entered the kitchen. "She told me to have you check it," he said, unbuttoning his shirt, "Said to make sure it's healing okay." He had always had a feeling that Grace knew about Gwen. His suspicions were confirmed when his mother just nodded and motioned for him to sit on the table. Several gasps told him that his siblings had caught up.
"Oh my God, Five," Vanya whispered, horrified, "what happened to you?" She knew, of course, that Sir Reginald was creative with punishments. Perhaps that is why she never expected corporal punishment. He always did psychological punishments, locking her in the chamber and Klaus in the mausoleum and always making sure to remind Diego that he was Number Two. But the welts on Five's back and scrapes and bruises… tears welled in her eyes when Five barely even flinched while their mother inspected the wounds.
"Where is Reginald," Five asked instead of answering, "I thought he'd have come to gloat by now."
Grace applied some salve to her son's back before giving him his shirt. "Your father is away at a convention for inventors," she replied, going back to preparing their lunch, "he'll not be back for a few days." She said nothing as Five grabbed a mug from the cabinet and put on a pot of coffee. "You shouldn't sleep on your back," she continued, finishing the platter of sandwiches she had been working on, "tell her to make sure you don't." Grace had never actually met Gwendolyn Silver. But she was fully aware of the impact the neighbor-girl had on Five. He was gentler, at least when he was alone or with just her, after coming back from next door. He was less on edge. The first time Grace realized that Five had someone outside the Academy to go to for help, he had been punished so badly by Sir Reginald that he was bleeding. He had been rapped over the knuckles, never making a sound, simply suffering in silence. As always, Five disappeared, but when Grace found him in his room his knuckles had been plastered. She knew none of the other children had done it, she had said goodnight to them an hour earlier and they were all fast asleep when she found him. She never told Sir Reginald. If he asked about Five, she simply let him believe that she had patched him up.
"Thanks, Mom," Five murmured and jumped off the table, "I'll tell her." He grabbed his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich and sat down in a chair. He knew the inquisition he was about to face would require sustenance, even though he practically just ate, just so that he could annoy Luther by dragging out the answers by eating. As expected, Luther took up questioning him. The others still seemed wary of him. Good.
Unable to resist, Luther grabbed a sandwich even as he glared at Five. "Who is she, Five," he growled, "and how come Mom knows about her?" He had to fight to control his temper when the smaller boy took his time answering. Two bites of sandwich and a whispered thanks for the coffee their mother placed on the table in front of him later, Five finally looked up.
"Her name's Gwendolyn Silver," he replied mockingly, "she lives next door." He could almost see the veins in Luther's neck growing bigger as he tried to contain his fury. Five took a long drink from his mug, scanning Luther up and down. The silence dragged on and just when Luther was about to burst, Five continued. "Gwen was born on October 1, 1989, at 9:38 in the evening." Jaws dropped around him. Again, Five took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he waited for the news to sink in. "She's a telepath and telekinetic with precognitive abilities," he continued, voice dropping to a threatening drawl, "and if any of you tries to hurt her, or if anyone of you tells Sir Reginald about her, I will ensure you die slowly and in a world of pain."