In the Beginning

1999

TO MOST, THE HOUSE APPEARED NORMAL. One floor, painted a chipped blue and surrounded by a well–loved, if neglected, garden. Someone had decorated the driveway with chalk flowers and smiley suns. A bike had been abandoned by the door step. Window stickers could be seen from the sidewalk; ladybugs and snow flakes (the children couldn't agree on if they wanted to use summer or winter stickers.) 

Sir Reginald Hargreeves knew better. He knew exactly what resided in that house. They were far from normal. 

Ten years ago, 43 women had spontaneously given birth. The resulting children were special. Hargreeves set off to find them as quickly as possible. Using his wealth, he managed to speak to all of them women, offering them everything they could possibly desire in exchange for their unwanted spawn. 

Two of the women ended up being sisters. That had not been part of Reginald's plan, but he had believed it would serve him well. One less stop he would have to go to. 

The youngest of the sisters, Elizabeth Botterill, had agreed almost instantly. She was barely twenty. There was a whole life ahead of them. It was the response that Hargreeves expected most of the women would have; a response he had found surprisingly lacking. 

Hargreeves almost got the child. Almost. He would have, if not for Elizabeth's sister. 

Susan Botterill was of the stubborn sort. She not only insisted on keeping her own child, but her sister's. The children had been given to them for a reason, Susan argued. They couldn't simply abandon them. At once, Elizabeth had agreed. Susan had been like a mother to her for all of her life. Hargreeves was a random stranger. The result was as understandable as it was frustrating. 

Hargreeves could have done more. He was certain there was some amount of money that Susan couldn't refuse. But waiting, he realized, would be significantly easier. 

Which is how he found himself standing outside their home. Hargreeves was certain time would have worn the woman down. He knew from his own children that they should have begun manifesting powers by now. Susan Botterill was ordinary. She wouldn't be prepared for children like them. 

Hargreeves rung the door bell. 

The boy (Susan had named him Ezekiel, hadn't she? Hargreeves hadn't bothered to look too deeply) answered. He had clearly been expecting visitors. Combed his hair neatly and dressed up in what must have been his nicest cloths. Hargreeves humphed and nodded to the child. It was good to see at least one of the children had common sense. 

"You're late," the boy said. 

"Where is your mother?" Hargreeves demanded. 

Ezekiel narrowed his eyes. After a moment – much too long, in Hargreeves's opinion – he stepped aside. 

Hargreeves took in the house as he entered. Small, cramped, and smelling vaguely of lemon cleaner and lavender air freshener. Reginald noted a coffee stain in the carpet next to his foot, and a small dent in the wall where the door handle had been driven into it (by a child's enthusiasm, Hargreeves guessed. These children would need taming if they were ever going to be functional members of his academy.) 

A little girl was sitting on cross legged on the floor. She looked up from her television cartoons to study Hargreeves with an un–childlike weariness. Her name was Jessica, he remember. She looked like trouble. 

"Zeke? Zeke, where are –" Susan appeared from a hallway. She froze when she saw Hargreeves standing next to her sun. She voice was strained as she said, "Ezekiel, get over here. Now." 

The boy wandered slowly to his mother's side. Despite not being called, Jessica did the same. Choppy strands of hair fell in her face as she put herself between her family and Hargreeves (Had she cut it herself? That would have to be corrected, too.) The girl puffed out her chest (and her cheeks – she was mostly just holding her breath) and glared up at Hargreeves. 

Hargreeves could tell Susan wanted to send him away. Before she could, Ezekiel tugged on her sleeve. She bent down and he whispered something in her ear. With a reluctant nod and a hand in each of her childrens', Susan led them into the dining room. 

The boy set himself to work setting the table, then headed to the kitchen to get food. Hargreeves took a seat, Susan and Jessica took the ones opposite him. Clearly niceties were wasted on the two, so he went straight to the point. 

"I am here to renegotiate on the children," Hargreeves stated plainly. "My last offer still stands."

"No," Susan said, just as plainly. 

He'd expected such resistance. Prepared for it. "I've sure you've begun to have trouble with them by now. Odd happenings. They will only worsen, I assure you of that. If you allow me to take care of them properly –"

Jessica growled at him. 

"Jessica!" Susan scolded. 

The girl just growled again. Hargreeves only raised an eyebrow. 

Ezekiel returned. Carefully he placed sandwiches on each of their plates. Hargreeves pulled back the bread to find a medley of vegetables and some shredded cheese. By the time he had finished studying the sandwich, Ezekiel had brought over a bag of potato chips and cup filled with Hi-C fruit punch.

"I'm sorry," the boy said, having seemingly picked up Hargreeves's reluctance. "We were out of sliced cheese, and He told me you wouldn't like the baloney. It old." 

"Who told you this?" Hargreeves asked. 

"Zeke has an imaginary friend," Susan interrupted. 

"I was asking the boy." 

Susan grimaced, but clearly knew better than to speak out of turn again. Good. Perhaps there was still some hope for the woman yet. Hargreeves nodded to the boy. 

"He isn't imaginary," Ezekiel said, with the innocent certainly only a child could manage. "He lets me know things. Like that you were coming." 

"You know how children are," Susan added quickly. 

From the corner of his eye, Hargreeves caught Jessica rolling something on the table. At first he thought it was a marble. Susan swatted it away, but he still caught a look. A small ball of blue energy, the same he had seen in the children he had already collected. 

It was certain. The children had developed abilities. All that was left was getting his hands on them. 

Susan took a deep breath, folded her hands in front of her, and turned towards Hargreeves. "Listen, Reginald, I am perfectly capable of caring for my children. They are happy here. They are safe here. And they are worth more than anything you could give me. Now leave my house." 

She clearly expected an argument. For Hargreeves to push even further. 

Instead, he simply got to his feet. There would be other chances. It was a shame, though. Hargreeves could already see what her children could grow into. Under Susan, they would never reach their true potential. 

Ezekiel followed the man as he left "She isn't letting us go." he said as he held the door open for Hargreeves. "I thought you ought to know." 

Then he closed the door in Hargreeves's face. 

The man turned on his heels and started back down the driveway. Ezekiel was correct, of course. Susan Botterill didn't understand the importance of the children she owned. 

But if it was only about convincing the mother, Hargreeves would have given up years ago. Susan showed no sign of submitting. No, Hargreeves returned because he knew, one day in the future, the children would understand. They would realize the potential their mother had held them from. And when that day came, Sir Reginald Hargreeves wanted them to remember where to come. 

The Umbrella Academy would be waiting. 

｀、ヽ｀☂ ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ

2002

THE ALARMS BLARED THROUGH THE CAPITAL WEST BANK. From where they were crouched, Ciana could see reporters collecting outside. Her fingers wrapped around her wrist. Printed into the skin – shared with her siblings – was an umbrella. The tattoo had been painful to get. At the time she had hated it. Now it brought comfort, a reminder that she wasn't here alone. 

Some families had matching sweaters, or yearly family photos to show they were connected. The Hargreeves had tattoos. 

Luther – number one – stayed behind while the others entered the bank. It was their first mission, but they still moved with a well–oiled proficiency. Their father had trained them well. They couldn't embarrass him the moment they were sent out into the world. 

 Electricity buzzed through the building. Ciana closed her eyes, scrunched her nose, and focused on sorting through it. Separate the manufactured electronics that kept the bank running from the natural electric field that surrounded every living creature. Then she ignored the little fields that were clearly her siblings, instead Turing towards the big mass in the main room. A crowd of people, huddled together. 

"There," Ciana whispered to the others, a finger pointed in the direction of that mass. "Most are in there." 

They all nodded. No words were needed. The entire plan had been gone over a thousand times before they even stepped into the building. 

The Umbrella Academy fanned out. They moved through the room, keeping out of sight of the robbers. Ciana could see the group of people now. Some of them were workers. Others had simply come in to get money. Ciana could even make out some children. All of their arms had been tied behind their backs, and duct tape held their mouths closed. One of the robbers had headed them together, and now held them there with a gun. 

"Hey, get them behind the counter," one of the robbers ordered. He had turned a corner, gun drawn. He pressed a finger to his ear – there was some kind of radio there, Ciana guessed – and said, "Now you've put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't want to do. Hmm?"

The answer wasn't what he wanted. He swore at his radio. 

As he was distracted, Allison approached the man. She came to stand behind him, hands tucked behind her back, and bounced on her feet as she waited for the robber to notice her. 

The man didn't even notice her uniform. "Hey, get back with the order," he ordered. 

"I heard a rumor..." Allison murmured. 

The words seemed to echo around the room. The robber didn't know it yet, but he had been put under Allison's spell. A couple of the children peered out from hiding to watch. Ciana smiled to herself as the robber leaned forwards to hear Allison better.

It was his mistake. 

"What?" the man asked. "What did you say?" 

Allison leaned forwards and cupped a hand over her mouth, as if sharing a secret. Held by the girl's voice, the man listened intently. "I heard a rumor that you short your friend in the foot."

Another robber had been walking past. The rumored man raised his gun, and his friend only had time to turn before he was shot. His finger hit the trigger of his gun as he fell, spraying bullets over a group of hostages and shattering a window behind them. 

The hostages screamed, snapping the man out of his daze. Before he could register what had happened, the children launched into action. 

Glass rained down on them as Luther smashed through the skylight. He landed among the hostages. Luther turned, grabbed the nearest robber by the back of the shirt, and flung them out of a window. 

Ciana moved towards the hostages near her. The man who had been short was supported to be guarding them, but his wounded foot and Luther's entrance had taken most of his attention. Ciana scurried around the divider. She knelt by the nearest hostage and attempted to untie their bonds. They needed to get them out of here before the fighting put them in danger. 

There was a click. Ciana raised her head to see the robber had turned his gun on her. 

There was a momentary panic. Then her training set in. Ciana pressed a hand to the ground. Electricity scattered across the tiles and shot through the man's body. He lurched. His finger spasmed on the trigger, but the bullet went through the glass instead of Ciana's head. She flinched as glass was sent scattering across her back. 

Her instinct was to check if glass had gone down her blazer, but there was no time. Ciana went back to freeing the hostages. 

Diego sprinted from his hiding spot, yelling, "Guns are for sissies! Real men throw knives!" 

And that was exactly what he did. At first, then knives flew towards the man stood by Allison. Then they jerked at a 90 degree angle, instead impaling the man guarding the doors. 

Ciana rolled her eyes. Her brother could be so dramatic. She finished freeing a couple of hostages, instructed them on helping others, and hurried to join her siblings. (Later, Ciana would learn that most of the hostages fled without freeing their arms at all. She supposed that worked as well.) 

The final robber had climbed onto the counter. He aimed the gun at the children as they surrounded him. Giggles rolled through the group as the robber ordered their retreat, his voice breaking in fear. Here was this grown man, with seconds ago had been threatening the lives of others, now pleading a group of children to leave him alone. 

Ciana clenched her fists and lunged forward. She had barely moved, but the man scrambled back as if attacked. Her siblings snickered. Ciana only shook her head. 

It showed the kind of person he was. He pushed around those weaker than him, but fell apart as soon as someone could fight back. A bully. 

"Get back, you freaks!" the man yelled. He moved his gun from child to child, unsure which was the biggest threat. 

"Hey, be careful up there, buddy," Diego mocked. 

Yeah, wouldn't want you to get hurt!" Allison added. 

"Get back, now!" 

The air behind the robber rippled. There was a pop as Five appeared behind him, sat cross–legged and smirking. 

Five cocked his head. "Or what?"   

The man whipped around to face the boy. He unloaded his gun, but only managed to hit the counter. Five had already teleported away. He reappeared again unharmed. 

When the man turned again, the result was even worse. Sometime between the jump and the man turning, Five had replaced his gun with a stapler. He attempted to shoot their brother. The only result was a small clink as a staple fell to the counter. 

The moment the robber realized his mistake was visible. His face crumbled. Unable to accept what happened, he moved closer and squeezed the stabler again. All that happened was some pathetic clicks and more wasted staples. 

"Ohh!" Five looked down at the stapler held against his chest. "That's one badass stapler!" 

Then he slammed the stapler back into the attacker's head. There was a thump as the man collapsed backwards. 

"There's more over there," Ciana turned towards the door the other man had been guarding. 

Father had mentioned a vault. Ciana hadn't been able to figure out which one the robbers were focused on. Now that the hostages were fleeing and most of the robbers were dead or unconscious, Ciana could feel another group. 

The Umbrella Academy collected around the door. Some of the hostages hovered around to watch, but most had fled. It was just them. 

Everyone turned to a reluctant Ben. His powers allowed him to wipe the group out in moments. He was the best option. 

Ben gave them a sulky look. He didn't like to use his abilities. The tentacles that came from his stomach made his fights bloody and violent. Their main attack was ripping people apart. Ciana tried to look sympathetic. She supposed the rest of them could find a way to take out the robbers (except, perhaps, Klaus), but Father would be mad if Ben didn't do anything. 

"Do we really have to do this?" Ben begged. 

"Come on, Ben," Luther coaxed. "There are more guys in the vault."

Ben sighed and muttered, "I didn't sign up for this."

"It'll be worse if you don't," Ciana said. 

Ben nodded sullenly. He knew that. They all did. As Ben entered the door, the others hurried the hostages away. He was already upset. Having strangers watch would make things worse. 

Ciana was glad the glass was tinted. It hid the worst of the carnage. 

Still, she watched as the dark shadows of tentacles thrashed around the room. The creature screeched in rage. There were screams as the attackers were torn apart. Two were thrown against the glass itself, leaving bloody splatters. More blood followed. 

Everything went silent. 

Ben slowly opened the door. Blood ran down his face, staining his mask and skin red. His hair was plastered down as if he'd taken a shower. The sharp smell of blood wafted out of the room and surrounded around Ben like a bad perfume. Ciana was desperate to pinch her nose and block out some of the scent. Instead she folded her arms across her chest. Showing her disgust would only make Ben feel like more of a freak.  

"Can we go home now?" Ben asked softly. 

But it wasn't time to leave. Not yet. They still had to face the press. 

Ciana quickly pushed strands of hair alway from her face and tried to tame the frizziness. It didn't work. Her hair was naturally curly, but the left over static from using her powers turned it into a rat's nest. Eventually Ciana got her hair looking settled enough. 

It didn't matter, did it? It wasn't like the press would expect them to look pretty after fighting crime. Besides, Ciana was standing next to Ben. Who was covered in blood. Any of them looked normal compared to that. 

With a sign, Ciana followed the others out. Being the leader, Luther headed the group. Cameras instantly turned towards them. The group shifted so that they were lined up in numerical order. 

It was how Father wanted it. Mother had given them names – except for Five, who stubbornly insisted none of her suggestions were quite right – but Father would never allow them to forget their numbers. Ciana assumed it was because it would be good for the theme, or some other excuse that didn't include him just dehumanizing them. 

They all did their best to look confident. Luther waved to the crowd, and Diego posed with his knife across his chest so everyone could see it. Klaus reached out to lean against Five. Ciana glanced down the row to look at Luther, then tried to mimic his wave. I only came off as sheepish and awkward. Only Ben didn't interact with the press. He hung his head low, as if he'd turn invisible if he didn't look at them. 

"How did you get in the bank?" one of the reporters called. 

"What happened inside?" another asked. 

The children did little more than acknowledge the questions. Father wanted to be the main speaker. They were only supposed to waste time so Father was able to get over from the rooftop he was watching them on. 

Once he arrived, the children were pulled aside. The blood was wiped from Ben's face, though they couldn't do anything about the stains. In the end they hid most of it by putting on his coat and scarf. The others did the same, so they would all match. 

Finally, they were filed back out. They stood stick straight. Slouching was criminal in the Hargreeves' household, it certainly was not allowed in front of the reporter's cameras. Ciana knew Father would be checking each photograph to make sure they looked just right. 

Father walked in front of them to give his speech. Ciana did her best not to blink at the bright flashes of the cameras. They stung her eyes, but blinking looked bad in photographs. 

"Our world is changing," Father started. "Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond ordinary. I have adopted seven such children."

Ciana found her eyes drifting over the crowd and to the building across from them. There their father had watched their progress. Now, though Ciana couldn't see them, Vanya was looking down that them. Their eighth sibling. Father didn't mention them, though. If he had, the press would ask where the last one was, and he would have to explain why Vanya wasn't there. It would turn their impressive first mission into a humiliation. 

Especially for Vanya. 

Just in case, Ciana smiled. To show Vanya someone was thinking about them. 

The reporters clambered for Father's attention. One woman won out, perhaps because the others next to her decided they could use the answer all then same. 

"Mr. Hargreeves. Channel 9 News." The woman pushed her microphone towards Father. "What happened to their parents?"

"They were suitably compensated," was Father's answer. 

The woman with the CNR microphone asked, "Are you concerned about the welfare of the children?"

"Of course. As I am for the fate of the world."

That night, Susan Botterill was trying to find a show for her children. Every news station had been playing the report, and when she stumbled across it she found herself frozen. Sir Reginald Hargreeves stood tall on her screen, backed by an army of children. 

Ezekiel and Jessica watched with wide eyes as the report unfolded. That realization shook Susan out of her surprise. She quickly changed the channel and tried to distract them. 

The children had been old enough to go to bed on their own for years now. They were proud of that. Yet that night, Susan tucked them in herself. She hugged them, and kissed their foreheads, and made sure they knew they were loved. That they were extraordinary because of who they were, not because of any powers they held. They didn't need to be in front of cameras to prove themselves. 

More importantly, she was their mother. She would always protect them – both from physical danger and from people who wanted to use them. 

Still, Susan went to bed feeling stick. She couldn't protect them forever. 

｀、ヽ｀☂ ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ

EZEKIEL BOTTERILL HAD A WAY OF KNOWING THINGS. A voice that was not quite a voice. At times it was easy to mistake for his own thoughts, though it knew things that Ezekiel himself could not possibly have. It was something else. Something which existed and did not exist, which watched from beyond their awareness. The exact nature of it was hard to grasp, like reaching for mist with your bare hands. 

All Ezekiel knew was that He – Ezekiel had taken to using male pronouns, and the interdimensional creature didn't seem to object – had guided him through most of his life. 

Listening to Him always went well. Not listening to Him had gotten him nearly hit by a bus. Multiple times.By the same bus. 

Which was why, on March 21st, 2019, Ezekiel Botterill was watching the news. 

Watching the news was, admittedly not that extraordinary of an activity. Ezekiel wasn't particularly fond of the news; it was a local station and nothing particularly interesting happened on the local station. Still, as Ezekiel listened to the mixture of rain and droning news broadcaster, this felt particularly odd. Irritating. Unnecessary. 

Ezekiel busied himself reading a book. The Voice kept trying to tell him the ending would be bad, which he pointedly ignored. Let him enjoy is trash novels until the ending punched him in the face with disappointment, like normal people did. 

"Christ, Zeke," Jess appeared in the doorway to her bedroom. "Can you turn that off? Some of us are trying to get some sleep." 

"Why are you going to bed at eight?" Ezekiel retorted. 

Jess stuck out her tongue. Ezekiel turned down the volume and she returned to her room. He knew why she was asking, of course he did, he was just being obnoxious. That was what happened when you shared an apartment with your cousin. 

Ezekiel had just turned back to his book when someone knocked on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin. For all the teasing, eight at night was a strange time for someone to appear at your door. 

It was less strange when Ezekiel opened the door to find Ciana Hargreeves. 

The Botterills had first met Ciana few years ago, when the woman had moved into their apartment building. They had avoided interaction with any of the Hargreeves children until then. It was their mother's ideas. They were good people, Susan was sure, but they were trouble. 

Yet when they did begin interacting with Ciana, Susan had instantly become attached. The woman needed some support system, after spending her time in an abusive household. 

Which is what the Botterills had become. It was common for Ciana to just appear at their apartment, and she was always welcome. 

As if that wasn't enough of a reason to let Ciana in, the Voice wanted her there. Something about the news. Curious. Ezekiel decided not to ask. 

He decided not to ask why Ciana had come over, either. Instead he stepped to the side to let her in and said, "Sorry to disappoint, but Jess is already asleep." 

"I...it's fine." Ciana tucked her hands into her coat pockets. Ezekiel didn't know why she put something on just to walk down the hallway. "I just couldn't sleep. I wanted to watch TV, but...uh...mine's broken."

Which is to say she'd fried it. Her powers made being around electronics dangerous. 

Ezekiel must have taken too long, as Ciana mumbled, "I figured you wouldn't mind, but –"

"It's fine," Ezekiel waved her off. "The couch is open and the TV is yours." 

Standing in the doorway, Ciana scanned the room. Looking for threats. It came from childhood training. At least that was what Ezekiel assumed. He had never asked many questions about the Umbrella Academy, and Ciana didn't like to talk about it. 

They both jumped at the sound of a loud thud.  Ezekiel snorted as he realized Jess had fallen out of bed – gotten her foot caught on the blankets while trying to stand up and face planted. He forced himself to stop when Jess abruptly came barreling out of her bed room. Ezekiel was certain she hadn't heard him (The Voice wasn't just good for revealing people's embarrassing falls) but the glare she gave him almost made him think she had. 

"Were you planning to not tell me?" Jess swatted the back of Ezekiel's head. Then, sweet as sugar, she turned to Ciana and pulled her into a hug. "I didn't know you were coming over!" 

Ciana froze, but then slowly hugged back. "I didn't know. Not until I got home and sort of...blew up my TV..." 

"Seriously?" Jess held the woman at arms length.

"It wasn't an accident!" Ciana protested. 

Jess laughed. By then Ezekiel had returned to the chair. The two continued to talk, but his attention was on the television. Something was coming, He was certain, though what that was Ezekiel didn't know. He never made it clear. Sometimes Ezekiel was annoyed by that, but at the end of the day he had to admit the whole communication thing was a bit hard for the Voice. 

The face of the main reporter reappeared, cutting short the weather. Fine by Ezekiel – he could just look out the window to know if it was raining – but he didn't see how this was worthy of his attention. 

It was then that a familiar face was flashed on the screen. One he hadn't seen outside of memories and His visions for years. 

Ciana had caught sight of the television. Her face fell. "It's that...Dad?" 

Sir Reginald Hargreeves had graced their screen. After the break up of the Umbrella Academy, the billionaire had become a recluse. Disappeared off the media's radar. Rumors swirled around him, rumors not even Ciana could dismiss. Ezekiel straightened in his seat to listen closer. The reporter's tone was solemn, though He knew he wasn't truly sad. This was his job. 

"We're going now live to a breaking story." The man's eyes fell to the notes on his table, which were barely visible at the bottom edge of the screen. "Moments ago, police reported the dead of the most eccentric and reclusive billionaire."

Ciana sucked in a sharp breath. Ezekiel glanced towards her, then back to the screen where pictures of the Academy were being shown. This was why the Voice wanted him watching the television. Why He wanted Ciana allowed into the building. If she'd just stayed home, if they had just sat around with the television off, she might have gone another day without knowing her father was dead. 

Jess wrapped her arms around Ciana's shoulders, with the hesitancy of someone approaching a cornered animal. For a moment they thought Ciana might burst into tears. 

She didn't. Ciana simply curled in on herself and leaned against Jess's shoulder. She stared glassy–eyed at the screen, as if watching some secret vision beyond what it showed. 

Ezekiel found himself moving towards the television. The glass was cold against his hand. The beginning. The words echoed in the back of his mind – the beginning. 

The beginning of something He had been trying to lead Ezekiel towards for the last few years. Choose this apartment. Keep an eye on the Umbrella Academy. Talk to Ciana (yes, your mother told you to as well, but I mean it.) Prepare. Prepare. Prepare. It's coming. 

The end of the world is coming. 

Author's Note: For those who read the original version, the biggest change I made was the Voice being less of a character. He was very fun to write, and as was His dynamic with Ezekiel, but He was quickly becoming a plot hole I kept having to work around. 

Also, Jess's powers are the only ones I didn't really go into here – she can form force fields. That's what the little "marble" she was playing with was, a small force field.