Chronological markers: this scene fits in as a deleted scene from The Umbrella Academy, season 3, episode 8. Part 1: around 14:00 (shortly before Lila comes to talk to Diego in his room). Part 2: around 19:30 (during Luther's bachelor party).

Suggested soundtrack: Muse - Plug in Baby ; Bill Medley et Jennifer Warnes - (I had) The time of my life.

April 07 2019, 12:38 pm

'Doing everything on our bucket list before we die', while letting the apocalypse happen. That's Five's plan now. As I walk up the hallway to the rooms, I turn this new reality over and over in my head, stunned, because I can't believe that Five is giving up.

We've talked a lot, and I've thought even more. We have different interpretations of what his future self meant when he told him that in the end, 'all that will remain is Oblivion'. He sees it as a warning. I see it as advice. Unfortunately, I also understand his refusal to play Reginald Hargreeves's game.

In every timeline he creates through his attempts to stop the apocalypse, Five gives his father a new chance to achieve his goals. I've seen it with my own eyes. And I wonder. Yes, I wonder if Hargreeves pushed him to leave the first time through reverse psychology. If he hasn't already literally used him to multiply his chances of success. I think the 'Founder' has lived long enough to be aware of this, and my heart clenches. Five's story, right up to his own death - which he witnessed - is also a story of regrets.

So yes, I understand why every fiber of his being bristles at the last mission his father has for us. A suicide mission, he thinks. It saddens me that he considers being swallowed by a bunch of black holes preferable to the idea of satisfying him once more. And yet, I'm sure a little voice in his head - that of his future self - still whispers the name 'Oblivion'.

As I turn into the upstairs hallway, I look at all these doors: the doors to the rooms that now quite literally belong to us. We don't lock any of them anymore, we sleep wherever we want: after all, there's no one left in this hotel but us. Us, and Chet, though as an android, he's no more human than Grace.

Hargreeves has taken over the White Buffalo Suite, which he considers his own, and I think Klaus is with him right now. I can hear them talking through the door at the end of the hallway, though I can't make out the words.

Since our arduous car ride back, Klaus has been acting as a self-improvement coach for his 'father', trying to equip him with the tools to redeem himself in the eyes of his siblings. It's a lost cause: Hargreeves has the social skills of a cast-iron radiator. But Klaus has sort of promised to help him, in exchange for all the progress Reginald has helped him achieve in return, over the past few days.

I don't like Reginald Hargreeves's deals. They never end in our favor. And I've realized that from now on, he's adopting a strategy to rehabilitate himself in the eyes of the Umbrellas. Yes. Reginald Hargreeves wants to rally them to his cause, just as he did with me. He's quite literally launching a campaign of image and influence, and in my opinion, at the end of this road lies Oblivion. For his own ends, not for our good.

I'm about to push open the door of the room next to the one Viktor now occupies alone - Allison having withdrawn to the floor above - when something catches my eye in the room where most of the boys were sleeping at the beginning. Diego, sitting alone against the couch, is somberly twirling his knife.

"Hey", I say from the hallway, aware that we've had few chances to talk over the past five days. "You look like an angry raccoon."

He snorts ironically. I see that he, too, is overthinking everything. And unlike Five, he hasn't decided to give up.

Diego is like that: I'm starting to understand him after all these days, months, years. His superhero complex has never fully faded, but ever since Lila entered his life, I see it clashing with his desire for stability. Deep down, the former Number Two wavers between wanting to save the world in a leather suit, proving he's worthy... and longing for a quieter life, with attachments. And probably because this duality unsettles him, he grumbles:

"It pisses me off that Five is dropping everything when he damn well knows that if we kick some ass, maybe we can still save our own."

I shove my hands into my pockets and step closer. I know what he's talking about, because Five hinted at it when we were talking outside the hotel: Diego went beyond the pachinko. He went even farther than I did toward Oblivion. And he paid the price. I lower my gaze, letting my eyes linger on the bandage wrapped around his left hand. Some fingers are missing, I can tell.

Yes. He understands far better than I do what Reginald Hargreeves meant in his notes by 'CAUTION: Protection system / Safety.'

"You went into Oblivion."
He looks up at me, and his knife stops spinning.
"You too?"
"I didn't go as far as you, apparently."
"I was with Lila. We literally almost got sliced to bits."
He lifts his injured hand.
"I'm trying to see the bright side: I can still count to three."

I won't comment on his usual ability to count beyond that, but I smile as best I can. Despite his injury, his eyes gleam, and I can feel all the adrenaline he felt when he went to see what was on the other side of the glowing tunnel. Like one last challenge for his abilities, but one that leaves him terrified. And not for himself.

"You were scared. You were scared for Lila and..."

I stop. I hesitate, wondering if Diego knows. Just like I didn't say anything to Lila the other night - before we both fell asleep at the bar - when I sensed that different energy nestled in her abdomen. But Diego, he picks up on my pause instantly.

"You know about the baby too..."
Oh no, Diego isn't stupid. And 'three' is really the only number that matters to him right now, I can feel it. I sigh.
"I love this middle finger to the end of the world you two are pulling off."

Which - honestly - suits Lila's chaos perfectly… though I can guess she must be terrified. Lila and I are similar in many ways. I'm not sure she ever envisioned having kids, though maybe she doesn't harbor the same deep-seated aversion to them that I do. To put it politely. And Diego mutters:

"My only goal right now is to get them to safety."

I clear my throat. Oh, I doubt Lila will appreciate hearing that.

"No one is safe, Diego, the whole space-time continuum is being consumed. And I highly doubt Lila will appreciate being gently sidelined by a white knight when - without even borrowing anyone's powers - she already hits harder than you."
His knife starts spinning again.
"I can't just sit here, and I sure as hell can't go throw rice and release doves for Luther's wedding when there's still a chance to stop this. And this isn't up for discussion: she and the baby are staying here."

My eyes widen. I realize that Diego would be willing to go back into Oblivion, alone if necessary, to face its lethal 'protection system' in a desperate attempt to shield his fragile little family, born quite literally from the apocalypse.

Not long ago, I would have been thrilled to have backup for exploring further beyond the pachinko. But now that I know what dangers await, I see this differently. I frown. And I ask, as I lift my gaze:

"What did the thing that did this to you look like?"

From Hargreeves' notes, I have no idea. I do understand that the Oblivion Machine is unique, that its interface is not a screen but rather a form of augmented reality capable of physically enveloping us. So I wonder what tangible form does its literal 'Firewall' take?

"It was some kind of Guardian. With a sickle - or an axe - something sharp, at the end of a chain. I didn't get a good look: the lights switched to 'dim and cozy mode' to welcome his arrival. We mostly ran to avoid getting turned into salami."

I blink. It makes sense that you can't just reset the universe on a whim, like pressing the 'delicate fabrics' cycle on your washing machine. It seems obvious that Oblivion would have a security system. That not just anyone could walk in, push a big red button, and be done with it.

"You didn't fight it."
That seems reasonable, given Diego's usual enthusiasm for a brawl, and he adds:
"I don't think… it's possible to fight those things when you're caught off guard like we were. Even with both of us, even if Lila had mimicked my power, I don't know if we could have."

I think I understand now why Hargreeves trained the Umbrellas and the Sparrows for combat, under the pretense of making them so-called superheroes. Why he always hoped they'd learn to fight as a team. And my throat tightens. Yes, this is clearly part of the reason why the Monocle had to adopt all these children, despite the fact that he despises them even more than I do. To have a chance at defeating this - or these - Guardians and clearing a safe path for himself to reach Oblivion's controls, whatever form they might take. Diego shakes his head, without pride.

"It wasn't something ordinary, Rin. It wasn't human. It was… something outside the world. Plus, my hand was bleeding like a shaken-up soda."

I press my lips together. I know about his phobia of blood, and I've seen him pass out over a thousandth of that. Clearly, no, he couldn't have fought.

"I'm sorry. Your fingers mean a lot to you."
An awkward silence stretches between us, and I scramble to fix it.
"For throwing knives. I didn't mean anything else."

But Diego doesn't look at me. He sighs, because I'm right: he feels like a pianist who's lost part of his virtuosity. And he mutters, mostly to himself:

"These past few months, the only trajectory I've been good at is the downward spiral. I need to get it together. And protect what matters. I have a family now."
"Trajectory…"

I freeze when he says that word.

"Forces / Gravity / Trajectories"… Suddenly, Reginald Hargreeves's handwriting replays in my mind, even though I had barely enough time to mentally photograph it. These were the first words in the list of parameters - or plug-ins - of Oblivion.

"What? Are you having a stroke?"
"No, it's nothing, I…"

Luther, Sloane, Diego. Forces, gravity, trajectories. Their powers literally correspond to these three fundamental mechanisms of the universe, and my mind instantly goes into overdrive. "Matter-Energy / Space-Time / Planes", those were the next words: no surprise there, since I feel very concerned. Just like Five. My eyes blink into empty space.

"Lives and souls / Psyche / Perception". I go pale. We're more than just a handful of supposed fighters, maybe capable of bypassing the Guardians's Firewall. We are deeply tied to Oblivion. Our powers are directly and intimately connected… to the plug-ins necessary to operate the machine.

Diego doesn't understand what's happening to me. I get up, under his bewildered gaze. He's still sitting on the floor, his knife now frozen in his uninjured hand. The word 'planes' slips my mind, but I can clearly see what 'Use universal flexible modules if available!' might mean. Lila. Lila fits that description perfectly.

"I… I need to talk to Five."

I stammer the words, stepping backward. And just before I disappear, Diego says, spinning his knife again:

"Rin, for fuck's sake, sometimes you're even more out of it than Klaus."

01:01 pm

I feel like an idiot. An idiot for not realizing sooner, the very moment I read those words in Hargreeves's notebook, because now the connection between our powers and the Oblivion Machine seems so obvious. They're linked to the mechanisms that govern the functioning of the universe, as if we were quite literally born from this machinery. As if we were part of it.

On my arm, the Sigil tattoo now takes on a whole new meaning. Having drawn it over and over again, I knew it had seven slots. Yes, seven main slots, with satellite elements connected by lines like a printed circuit board. Yeah, I feel like an idiot for not connecting that number to the number of children Hargreeves thought it wise to adopt. In our timeline, and in the others.

As I head up toward the billiard gallery overlooking the Obsidian Bar, I mutter to myself. Five completely brushed me off. He doesn't want to listen, he doesn't want to hear the name 'Oblivion' anymore, or anything else that isn't included in the ingredients of a margarita. And now, he's down there, belting out karaoke with Klaus to 'The Time of My Life.'

'I've had the time of my life
No, I never felt this way before
Yes, I swear, it's the truth
And I owe it all to you.'

He really couldn't have made Klaus happier, though I, for one, am glad to have been labeled as one of the 'girls' and excluded from this improvised bachelor party based on my assigned gender. Not a problem at all, quite the opposite. And it reminds me of the fact that I was forced to watch Dirty Dancing about thirty times with Klaus in the past: when he used to carry the VHS tape in his backpack. The same backpack he also used as a pillow. And honestly? I'm just relieved that the entire professional category of strippers has already been wiped out by the Kugelblitz.

''Cause I've had the time of my life
And I've searched through every open door
'Til I found the truth
And I owe it all to you.'

I sigh. I now know too much, and yet not enough. I believe we are capable of activating Oblivion: that we might be the only ones who can. And I also believe that Reginald Hargreeves was never actually needed to trigger the reset. Yes. I need to know more: to get closer to the machine's controls, to understand how it works, to convince the others. And I can do it alone. Intangible. No matter the dangers there, they can't touch me.

'So, we'll just let it go
Don't be afraid to lose control, no
Yes, I know what's on your mind
When you say, 'Stay with me tonight.'

I don't want Hargreeves to know that I'm about to do this: he'd just try to twist it to his advantage. The fact is, he's holed up in the White Buffalo Suite now, locked away since his arrival, playing the victim, claiming that 'no one wants him here'. I'll stay on the lookout for any opportunity. Yes. I feel determined.

Further ahead, leaning against the railing, Ben watches the festivities from which - he - has been completely excluded. Because he's a Sparrow. Because Luther has zero affinity with him. The fact is, he's stewing. Frustration boils off of him, and I could almost laugh. But suddenly, I feel the cushion next to mine sink down… and Lila, with a playful voice, speaks the obvious for me:

"That one really thinks he can be an asshole at appetizers and then complain about not getting dessert."

I let out an amused breath as she climbs up to sit on the backrest, but in the end, I huff.

"It kind of breaks my heart to see how badly Klaus wants to get close to him."

Lila looks down at me with those big, dark eyes. I don't know exactly how much she knows about the brother Diego lost, and anyway, she's too careless to really give a shit.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but Klaus tries to get close to the ficus plants in the first-floor hallway."

I smile at her, a little sadly, because she's not wrong. Ever since we got here, he's needed more than ever to strengthen his bonds, even if most of them are entirely illusory. His mother. Then his father. Ben, now. And - down there - he sings at the top of his lungs, hitting the high notes, clearly happy about this form of a joyous family reunion before the world ends: something he never had, even when they all lived under the same roof.

"He loves them, you know", I tell her, as Allison's shadowed figure disappears into the elevator at the far end of the lobby.
"He's probably the one who expresses it the most easily, too. In those exact words, even, even though he never gets them in return."

Lila nudges my shoulder playfully before stretching her legs into the void.

"Diego sucks at expressing emotions except in a a hormonal way. But I swear, he'd do just about anything for Klaus."
"I know that", I tell her, and I'm glad she sees it too.
"These people have completely changed the way I see family."

The Sparrows made an illusion of unity, but they were nothing more than a den of vipers. The Umbrellas are the complete opposite. Seemingly dysfunctional to the extreme, yet they actually share a chaotic, messy kind of love for each other.

For me - far beyond Luther and Sloane's union - this is what they are truly celebrating. One last time. Fleetingly. Before the world might cease to exist. And I look at Lila.

"Aren't you scared?", I ask her carefully, my chin gesturing briefly toward her lower abdomen, which is hidden behind her forearms crossed over her knees. She understands immediately that I know, and she looks down at the worn carpet around the pool table.

"I'd be terrified. If there were any chance of seeing it through."

I tilt my head, thinking of Diego's words. His desperate need to protect them, to the point of risking more dangers that have already cost him two fingers. My brows furrow.

"If there were still a chance to stop the end of space-time, would you take it?"

She looks at me, as down below, everyone has joined Klaus and Five to sing together: off-key, but outrageously joyful. Unexpectedly happy.

"Yeah. I'd jump right in. Maybe I would even do everything to turn it to my advantage once again."
Lila makes me smile. I know she would be capable of it. And yet, she sighs.
"But Five said nothing can stop the Poodlebits, and I have an unfortunate habit of trusting that little bureaucrat in patent leather loafers."

Lila has a lot of respect for Five, even though just days ago she was trying to kill him by any means necessary, and even though they constantly mock each other whenever they get the chance. Oh, she'd rather choke than admit it. But I can tell she actually likes him. She tilts her head, swaying dangerously on the bench.

"And you?"

I watch them, my foot unconsciously tapping along to the song, even though the impromptu Glee Club below is half-deafening me.

"Me..."
I swallow, then smile.
"You know, my mother named me after the white lotus, a symbol of resilience, a flower that blooms after pushing through muddy waters. She should've just named me 'Little Cockroach': because I think, in the end, I'm even harder to eradicate. Yeah. I'll try until the end."
Lila laughs, flashing all her teeth.
"You know what they say, that cockroaches are the only ones who can survive apocalypses."

I look toward the towering pillars of the lobby, glowing with blue light, pulsing in resonance with what's left of the universe. And as I listen to the Hargreeves singing at the top of their lungs - cacophonous and reckless with joy, before everything is gone - I know I'm making the right choice.

"Whatever you claim", she tells me, "I reckon you've got a bloody good reason for wanting to save this mess... and he's seriously getting on the ghost of Patrick Swayze's nerves, right now."

Lila is right. At the Celestial Theatre, I felt the urge to preserve humanity, to ensure that 'all that jazz' could go on.
But today, as we stand here, possibly the last ones left, I realize I was wrong. Maybe I'm like Hargreeves: selfish, self-centered. And right now, I don't care: I want to keep them safe. The ones with whom I, too, have had the time of my life.

The final chorus of the song explodes, and the karaoke machine can't handle it. Klaus is absolutely nailing the Jennifer Warnes part, and now he's putting his whole heart into it.

And - yeah - I want to keep ~ him ~ safe.

Notes:

Time is running out before the reset. Rin is now more certain than ever of who they are and why she needs to keep going.

I loved paralleling Diego and Lila's perspectives as future parents, both torn at the edge of the apocalypse.

In the end, love drives every single one of them. Even Hargreeves, in his own twisted way…

Any comment will make my day!