Saturday, November 23 1963, 12:48 pm
Do you want to know the first corollary of returning to life? Exhaustion. I should have known. Or remembered, because now I can recall having remained zombie-like for twenty-four hours, last time. Simply materializing my fist and smashing it into Klaus's boot seems to have drained me like never before, to the point where I can't make myself tangible again beyond the first knuckles of my fingers. Oh, and the second corollary? Since I'm no longer a ghost... Klaus can't see me anymore.
Perched on a haystack in the barn, I open and close my hand. Outwardly? I'm still an invisible and intangible shadow. And yet, beyond all appearances and despite my tiredness: everything has changed. For if you were to contemplate my energy, you'd see that it's no longer spectral: vivid, fiery, more alive than ever... striking me with exhilaration.
Maybe I'll cherish being alive even more from now on.
Sitting cross-legged, I distractedly listen to Diego, who is now trying to talk some sense into his girlfriend, the one he calls 'Lila'. I don't like to assess situations superficially, but it seems to me that she's screwed him big time, and she looks to me like an archetype of chaos. If she's the one who got Five to this state, there's reason to be impressed.
I understood that her ability is to mimic the powers of people close by. Within a perimeter I don't know, in a way that's still unclear but devilishly efficient. She only met Diego a few months ago, the rest of us even more recently. For someone who hasn't had a chance to practice, how effortlessly she replicated Viktor's shockwave suggests she's quite damn good.
Good but lost, as Diego tries to make her understand that her 'mother' had her parents killed to somehow 'steal' her as a child. With the look of a lost puppy, she's torn between her determination to be loyal, her desperation to be loved and the intuition that Diego is right. She's no longer in tune with herself, which undoubtedly makes her more dangerous than ever.
The fact is, her 'mother' - the one I've heard Five refer to by the very generic name of 'The Handler' - is nothing but a huge cunt, to say the least, the likes of which the Temps Commission seems to be renowned for. Pompous cheekbones, haute couture dresses, a pretty hat adorned with a spider... Reginald Hargreeves - at least - has the decency to organize people's deaths as coincidences. She, on the other hand, gives direct orders for execution, unencumbered by formalities. Kind of like Five, in fact.
I wonder why she was interested in having a child with a power like Lila's. But in the end, I don't know Reginald Hargreeves' motivation for adopting his children either, beyond his saving-the-world bullshit. I only wonder how many of us actually exist out there. But all these considerations are too complex for my very alive but exhausted mind. The fact is, I was the most recent addition to this Hargreeves mess... Now I'm not anymore. And while I don't like to talk about 'family', I'm not indifferent to the fact that she's just like us.
I blink. I close my hand one last time, letting some of my strength build up so I can try again soon to rematerialize partially. But at that moment, I sense a sob in the energy of the basement, somewhat similar to the one Viktor cried when he was held by the FBI. Weak and frightened, just below our feet.
Harlan. Oh, boy. What happened to that little kid, through this mayhem? Does anybody care now? My maternal instinct is close to that of an anvil, let's face it, except when it comes to that damn Klaus, go figure. But still: my empathy can't leave me unmoved. I leave my perch, slowly letting my intangibility pass through the straw-covered floor into the barn's basement.
There, in a corner dimly lit by the window wells, not far from the motionless body of his mother - who fortunately only looks knocked out to me - the boy is trembling. All alone, in the middle of a protective spiral of energy. I close my eyes briefly and summon up the few strength I have to materialize my vocal cords and speak to him.
"Hey," I try to tell him as I step forward a little, probing how far he'll let me approach.
I'm taking a risk, I know it. If he were to set off a blast like Viktor's, I'd have a front-row seat again... and I'd probably get blown up once more. I choose not to cross his protective shield, but to kneel beside it.
He's scared. He's terrified. But his previously evasive gaze now looks at me with a kind of hope, as if he's desperately trying to cling on to the slightest reassurance, in the midst of this chaos. I can't lie to him. I won't tell him everything's okay.
"I understand it scares the shit out of you, little fella..."
It seems to me that above all, his feeling needs to be welcomed.
"All those noises, all those vibrations... and those golden energy flecks inside you."
I know he can feel them. He's sensed them inside me. And from his look, I know he understands, even if he can't say a word. Maybe he's usually non-verbal already, I wonder.
"I can see them too, you know," I say. "And they mean you no harm. They belong to Viktor and... Viktor doesn't want to hurt you either, you know that..."
I think I can even say that he loves him, even if it's not for me to say it. I try to smile at him.
"Until he can take them back from you, Harlan - because I know he'll be able to do so..."
I lean in, but leave him free to meet my eyes or not. And he chooses to bury them in the hollow of his arms crossed over his knees.
"Just allow yourself to feel them floating inside you. I was scared too, when I first realized their presence. But now..."
I smile at him.
"Now I only see them as the pretty marigold flowers, which I've seen floating quietly on the waters in India, during my travels. You know?"
I think he might feel reassured by such imagery, because so do I. He's still trembling, but I think he's calming down a bit. He's mostly terrified by the fact that his mother isn't moving right now.
"She's fine, try to feel her energy, too..."
At this very moment, I think of something that might do him some good. Something that helped Klaus so often to deal with the assaults of his memories and ghosts alike. The same thing that has kept Viktor going for so many years, through the sound of his violin.
The last time I did it? I think it was on a troubled night, just before the first Apocalypse. A melody in the dark. But it comes back to me intact, as I begin to hum. I let it rise gently, this pure and clear tune, and I feel it echoing all the way down to the 'marigolds' dancing within Harlan.
I keep singing for a while, I can feel him calming down slightly. But...
*Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat*
My song dies away. I look up at the ceiling, through which a sound of machine-gun fire has just been heard. Energy surges again around Harlan, who retreats a little further against the wall, even more since he can sense the terror also gripping my entire chest.
An automatic rifle. In the barn. And the sound of bodies falling one after the other against the wooden floor, causing debris of straw and dust to tumble into the basement. Vital energies spasming, fading, making my throat knot as I comprehend.
"Hell no..."
This faint word is the last I utter before my vocal cords become intangible again. For a moment, I'm stunned, transfixed, trying to convince myself that what's happening is real, just when I was convinced it was all over. But where was 'The Handler'? Damn. To think that no one - including those supposedly trained for 'missions' - had a fucking thought about her? I blame myself. I could have been on the lookout. So could Klaus. Won't we ever learn from...
*Rat-a-ta*
Another shot. Shorter. A new, muffled crash, quickly followed by a terrible silence. A second passes, then two, then three. And finally, through the wooden floor, I hear three words:
"Qué será será".
'Whatever will be, will be'. My fists clench, because I can't stand hearing about that fucking fate anymore, constantly brandished at us across any timeline. And I feel this anger amplified tenfold now, by the despair of having lost the only people who still matter to me.
I probe energy through the floor with all my might. Apart from that of the hat-wearing bitch, I detect only two distinct and contrasting pulses. That of Klaus - more alive than ever - his power literally fanned by the imminence of his death. And that of Five, weak, fleeting, clinging to life.
"Sorry, Klausie," I whisper unheard. "For once, I'm absolutely not worried about you."
Did I recover enough strength to undertake anything? I don't care, really. A blink of the eye is all it takes for me to teleport to Five's side, kneeling on the floor, invisible. Aware that he's unable to detect me, even through energy.
In the corner of my vision, amidst the disarrayed straw, I can make out the inert forms of everyone else, even the one called Lila. No, I can't look at them. Nor can I imagine that they are at this very moment standing before the annoying teen in ribboned dress, who runs the afterlife. And I don't have the time anyway.
For The Handler is approaching, the clatter of her shiny red heels the only thing occupying my mind now, along with the merciless barrel of the gun she's pointing at Five, ready to shoot at point-blank range. He's too tired to blink through space, the energy of his power barely whispering through his wounded body. I close my eyes, preparing to try and make a tangible contact to teleport him away. But...
*Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat*
With a blank stare, The Handler falls to the ground, shot in the back from the bullet-riddled barn door. There, a hostile-looking blond guy is standing, staring at Five. I don't know who he is, but I can only wonder about the features he shares with the Swede Allison neutralized. He, too, has the face of one who has lost everything. And it's with all the determination of a silent, cold sorrow that he walks up to Five, ready to shoot.
I was the only one dead. Am I really going to end up being the only one alive in this barn? Because of internal quarrels within the Temps Commission? Beneath my intangible hands, Five exhales painfully, heaving, as if convulsing. Torn by pain, fear, but not only.
He's trying to summon his wits and power.
He's looking for an idea.
Until the end, until the brink of death, Five... remains an equation-solving machine.
Looking for a solution.
A plan B.
Refusing fate, and the idea that "Qué será será".
And the Swede approaches, closer and closer, his finger twitching slightly on the trigger, as if hesitating.
Five's fingers fidget on his uniform jacket, I can feel him mustering his powers to prepare for a jump. I don't have much, apart from the regret of having spurned him when he came to ask me for help again - one evening, in the Merelec workshop. I've only recovered little strength, but what I have, I'll give him, no matter what he plans to do. So I turn my fingertips tangible, I make a tiny contact with him...
He realizes at once that he's not alone, as a halo resulting from the energy and space-time friction rises around our joined hands. The Swede steps back. Astonishment fills Five's face as he painfully lifts his head, gasping in the icy air.
My power becomes his, as he focuses all his determination. I support him and he works even harder despite his surprise, while I understand what he's doing. He's not preparing a leap into space, no.
What he's up to... is a very short step back in time.
I had promised myself not to touch the time line again. Absolutely no precedent for time manipulation had ever been successful: neither for me, nor for Five. But going back a few seconds is unheard of. We're almost out of energy, he and I: individually, we're both factually half-dead. But I've recently realized that combining forces is the key to getting through a lot of situations.
The halo grows, encompassing us. Following Five, I stand up, in the middle of the barn, where the straw dust freezes in mid-air, only to resume its movement in an opposite convection. The Swede walks backwards irrationally, bringing his weapon to his side in a supernatural gesture that defies reason. The Handler steps back outside. Lila opens her eyes again.
And suddenly - almost unwittingly - as if moved by the very force of time reversing itself, I feel Five set us in motion. He bolts, as if falling forward. As if running in slow motion, in the opposite direction to the rewind imposed on the universe. I follow him, still giving him everything I've got, my energy vibrating in his wake as if I were his echo. Rushing along, paradoxically motionless, amidst the chaos of his siblings' bodies, now rising up in reverse around us like disjointed puppets.
A few seconds in the past, yes. Just a few, as I feel all the energy I'd managed to harness being drained away. Time bends. Sounds reverse, pulses resume, energies reinvest matter, as if none of that fateful shooting had ever happened.
Victor opens his eyes again, just as Luther and Diego. Allison. And Klaus, just before mine close.
*Crack!*
This returned sound is both Five's and mine - suddenly part of me again - ant time resumes its course instantly.
"I know that we can be your family, if you just let us".
These are Diego's words, addressed once again to Lila, unaltered. But I collapse into a patch of straw, on the threshold of consciousness, unable to hear that more shots are fired.
Invisible, intangible, worn out.
Relying on them all. On that goddamn family to which - for my part - I've always and fiercely refused to be assimilated to. Chaotic, impossible, exhausting to death - literally.
But also objectively the only one I have left, in the intricacies of space-time.
Notes:
You may have sensed it all the way from the banks of the Ganges in Varanasi: Harlan's use of the term 'marigolds' in season 3 is actually linked to Rin's mental imagery, which she uses here to try and soothe him.
Lila's arrival in the picture forces Rin to reflect on the concept of 'family', which is unsettling for her. Since the beginning of this story, she has been fighting to stay apart from the Hargreeves and not be one of them. A position... often difficult to hold.
For, once again, it's when powers are combined that situations unravel. A new bend in space-time, a new Plan B, which may have saved the day. And a way for me to explain the clear expression of astonishment portrayed by Aidan Gallagher at the conclusion of season 3, that had always intrigued me on screen.
There's only one chapter left in season 2... and I'm already sad to see it come to an end!
Any comment will make my day!