This story is inspired by The Umbrella Academy and delves deeper into the time travel adventures of Fives and Lila. While the concept may be somewhat controversial, I believe it has a lot of potential, even though it was originally presented rather quickly.

Depending on your feedback, I may revisit the ending to add more depth and clarity. I'll do my best to stay true to the characters, but given that some aspects of Five's relationship dynamics were not fully explored, this story will include my own twist on his character.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - It's simple: go back to October 14, 2006. Stop Ben from interacting with Jennifer, prevent the Jennifer incident, and maybe—just maybe—save the world. But it's never that simple, is it? The moment we landed, the timeline was wrong. Instead of the familiar faces of our original team, we were surrounded by a bunch of kids we didn't recognize. Not the timeline we were aiming for. With that failed escapade behind us, we teleported back to the subway station, the air thick with frustration and the lingering scent of another dead-end. - -

Chapter 1

This place reeked of déjà vu and bad decisions. The moment we descended into the subway again, the air had that stale scent of time unravelled too many times. I should've known better—messing with time always comes with a price. But optimism got the best of us. We only went three stops West so we should just be able to go three stops East. Lila and I wandered up the steps, thinking naively that it was our stop. Instead, we stumbled right into my personal nightmare—the old doomsday.

We walked around a little in the rubble of the old academy.

"Bloody hell, is this…" Lila started, and I finished with, "Right timeline, wrong time."

Bang! We both ducked and looked around until my eyes darted to where the shot came from.

There he was—my older self. Still a cranky bastard, still an omen of everything that could go wrong. I've seen enough alternate versions of myself to know this guy wasn't going to offer a friendly chat. Sure enough, the bullets started flying almost immediately.

Lila dodged like she was born to, and I was right behind her, but not fast enough this time. Not being able to blip to another space hampered my usual avoidance strategies. A sharp sting in my shoulder told me I was hit. Great, just what I needed – a fresh reminder of how much this day sucks. The graze burned, but I've been through worse.

We managed to grab hands under the fire and teleported back to the subway station, where the neon lights flickered just the right amount of eeriness to make you question your sanity. I clutched my shoulder, gritting my teeth against the pain. Lila was already analysing our options, and it was clear we had to get out of there, fast. We figured we'd catch the next train and try another three stops. Third time's the charm, right?

But, of course, time had other plans for us.

When we surfaced, the world looked familiar at first—until it didn't. The sky had that off-color tint you only get when the timeline's been tampered with. The academy was standing, a good start, but everything was wrong. Off. Like someone had hit the rewind button on reality.

People were walking backward—literally moving in reverse like some bad acid trip. Lila and I exchanged a glance, the unspoken agreement clear: if they're walking backward, we're walking backward. We blended in, retracing our steps in reverse, eyes sharp for anything out of place—well, more out of place than it already was.

At least all the buildings were where we expected them to be, and the pharmacy—or should I say "ycamrahp"—was where I hoped. We made our way inside, pretending like this was just another day in the apocalypse. The shelves were lined with supplies we could use to patch up my shoulder. While Lila grabbed the basics—bandages, disinfectant—I snatched a couple of toothbrushes and toothpaste on the sly, along with a couple of bottles of water.

I've been through enough of these temporal detours to know this wasn't going to be over in a few hours. We might be here a day or two, maybe longer. I wasn't about to let my teeth rot just because time decided to play another trick on us.

After we'd loaded up on supplies, we headed back down into the subway. That's when Lila noticed it—the glowing lines on one of the pillars. A map, maybe? She studied it, and I felt that old familiar itch in the back of my mind—like we were close to something, but it was still just out of reach.

Time's a bitch like that. Keeps you guessing, keeps you on your toes. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you don't stop moving, not for a second. Because the moment you do, that's when it all catches up with you. When you get stuck. Forty-five years, give or take.

Lila stopped studying the column and turned her attention to me. "Sorry," she muttered, her voice tinged with guilt. "Forgot about your shoulder. My bad"

I half-smirked at that, despite the throbbing pain. If there's anyone who shares my fascination with time's twisted games, it's her. "It's fine," I said, though my voice betrayed a wince as I slid down a pillar in the subway. More blood than I'd anticipated smeared across the cold concrete, leaving a crimson streak.

"Shit," Lila cursed under her breath, rushing over. She helped me shrug off my blazer and waistcoat, revealing a shirt now soaked in red. Her hands moved quickly as she slipped on a pair of gloves she'd pilfered from the pharmacy. Without much warning, she pressed on the wound, making me hiss in pain.

"Auch!" I shot her a glare, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Stop your moaning. Let me patch it up before you start crying."

I gave a curt nod, letting her unfasten my tie and unbutton my shirt to get a better look. The wound wasn't pretty—jagged and angry, but manageable. She doused it in disinfectant, the sting biting deep. I clenched my jaw, trying not to let it show. Pain was an old friend by now.

Lila worked with practiced efficiency, cleaning the wound thoroughly before covering it with sterile gauze. She taped it down securely, making sure it wouldn't shift.

With Lila's help, I managed to get my clothes back on. No point in leaving anything behind, even if the waistcoat and blazer added a bit of weight to the whole ordeal.

"Come on," she said, her voice tinged with that unrelenting optimism of hers. "Let's get home. We can patch you up properly." She pauses, "as soon as we work out what the hell these trains are playing at."

I gave her one of my rare, tight-lipped smiles—a twitch to the left. She was trying to keep the mood light, but the truth was, things were far from under control. We'd hit two stops so far, 3 including the other academy students, yet neither had brought us back to the start. Same train, different timelines. I felt a sinking feeling in my gut, but shoved it down as I followed her onto the next train. We took seats on opposite sides, both staring out the windows. Other than strange, flickering lights in the void outside, there was nothing to see. Nothing to tell us where we were headed or why.

When the train finally lurched to a stop, it only took one look to know this wasn't our station either. But we went up the stairs anyway because what else were we going to do?

This time, the world was all wrong—like someone had taken reality and cranked up the gravity dial. Everything looked squashed down, compressed under an unbearable weight. We exchanged a glance, the unease clear in both our eyes.

I kicked at one of the subway tiles by the entrance, dislodging a chunk. Crouching down, I picked it up, and with my good arm, I tossed it just beyond the subway's threshold. The chunk of tile plummeted to the ground so fast it barely left the perimeter of the entrance.

"Well, guess we won't be going for a stroll," I muttered, watching it slam into the ground.

Lila raised an eyebrow, then let out a low whistle. "Well, shit."

I could feel the tension growing between us, a silent acknowledgment that this wasn't just another routine mission. We turned back around and headed down the stairs.

"Let's take a proper look around before we jump onto another train this time," I suggested, keeping my voice steady. "Each station seems a little different."

Lila nodded, but I could see the unease flickering in her eyes. She was usually quick with a quip or a sarcastic remark, but this place had her on edge too. We started searching, though it was more out of a need to feel like we were doing something than any real hope of finding anything useful. No vending machines, no signs of life—just the stale, metallic scent of the underground.

Typical. For what seemed like a timeline train station, it wasn't exactly built for comfort. I couldn't shake the feeling that this place wasn't meant to be inhabited, just passed through—if you were lucky enough to make it out the other side.

"Oi, check this shit out," Lila called out, breaking the silence.

I turned away from watching a couple of rats scurry along the tracks to see Lila holding up a subway map. It was surprisingly well-kept. Black paper with the lines in bright colours and stops with strange symbols.

"Great. We can start working at this methodically," I said, feeling a small spark of hope. Maybe we could figure out where the hell we were—and how to get out. "Can we see where we are?"

"Of course," Lila chirped back, her optimism a bit too bright for my taste. I let her study the map while I sat down on the cold, unforgiving floor, leaning back against the wall. I could feel the wound in my shoulder throbbing again, but I ignored it, watching Lila with the map in her hands.

She traced the lines with her finger, muttering to herself, her brow furrowing deeper by the second. The silence stretched on, and I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on us.

"It's more complicated than it first appeared," she finally said, her frustration seeping into her voice.

I sighed, more out of habit than anything. "Nothing's ever simple, is it?"

Lila shot me a look that said she agreed but wasn't in the mood for banter. She handed me the map and I studied it, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of lines and stations. But it was like looking at a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Every time I thought I had it figured out, the pieces shifted, the lines blurred, and we were back to square one.

"Looks like this station might connect to several different timelines," I said, more thinking out loud than anything. "However, there are only two lines—one forwards and one backwards. The station seems to summon a train when we approach a platform rather than there being a schedule. And I can only assume the tracks change in the tunnel when we see all that light."

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Lila replied, her voice tinged with irritation, mirroring the frustration that was starting to gnaw at both of us.

I nodded, more out of resignation than agreement. The map wasn't going to give us the answers we needed—not easily, at least. But we didn't have much choice. We were going to have to navigate this twisted maze of timelines the hard way.

"Alright," I said, folding the map and slipping it into my pocket. "Let's keep. We'll figure it out as we go."

Lila didn't argue. She stood up, brushing the dust off her clothes, and followed me toward the platform. As predicted, the train arrived almost immediately, as if summoned by our presence. The unease in the air grew thicker as we found seats in the carriage, the faint hum of the train's lights doing little to calm the nerves thrumming beneath my skin.

The longer we're stuck here, the more the timeline seems to twist itself into knots. And the longer it will likely be before we find a way out. The thought hung between us, unspoken.

We both stared out the windows, watching the shifting lights in the tunnel, each flash feeling like a mocking reminder of how little control we had over this situation. Time was supposed to be my playground, but right now, it felt more like a cage.

"Let's just hope this next stop is kinder to us," I muttered, more to myself than to Lila. She glanced at me, her expression hard to read, but didn't say anything. There wasn't much left to say, anyway. Not until we saw where the train was taking us next.

I leaned back in my seat, feeling the weight of time pressing down on us, and prepared for whatever fresh hell awaited at the next stop.

When the train slowed, there was a moment where everything felt suspended, like the entire world was holding its breath. The doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a station bathed in an eerie, greenish light. Lila and I exchanged wary glances and we stood in the open door way.

This station was different—pristine, almost too perfect. The walls were lined with mirrors, reflecting us back a thousand times over, each reflection slightly out of sync, creating a dizzying effect. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic, sharp and unnatural, making my nostrils flare.

"What godforsaken hellhole is this?" Lila whispered, her voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.

I didn't answer. My eyes were fixed on the reflections, on the way they seemed to shimmer and shift with every movement. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The feeling of being watched was intense, as if the mirrors themselves were alive, observing us, waiting for something.

"It doesn't matter," I said coldly. "This isn't our station." I walked further back into the carriage, pulling at Lila's arm to allow the doors to close.

"If the next station doesn't scream 'run for your life,' we'll stop and rest."

"What do you mean rest?" Lila's voice was firm, though a flicker of unease crossed her features. She wasn't panicked—more like she was assessing the situation, trying to figure out the best way to handle it.

"This isn't something we're getting out of today," I replied, my tone as steady as hers. "And if there's one thing I know, it's when to call it quits and conserve energy."

Lila's eyes narrowed slightly, not in fear, but in thought. "My kids are going to lose their shit if I don't get back soon." she said, her voice steady but edged with concern.

I watched the lights flicker and colour her face different shades of green and yellow. She wasn't asking me for reassurance; she was stating a fact, and I knew better than to try to soothe her with empty words. Still, I needed to keep us both focused. "I get it, but time's a joke here. A day for us is like blinking back there. So, save the worrying for when we're really screwed."

She gave a small nod, accepting the logic without letting go of her determination. The train slowed down, approaching the next platform. It was plain, unremarkable.

"This platform doesn't scream 'instant death' so let's roll with it." I muttered.