CHAPTER SEVEN
the art of meddling

⋆*✧･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

THAT NIGHT, NADINE dreamed about the day she'd gotten shot. This wasn't unusual; the day often found a way to weave itself into her dreams; never an exact recreation, instead piecing the day apart and adding choice elements from it into her subconscious, like ingredients being added to a pot of soup. Chop, chop. Maybe she'll be on a plane, and suddenly everyone will be wearing those masks. Put it in the pot. Perhaps she's on the moon, for whatever reason, as her subconscious doesn't care about what is possible and what isn't, and a tearing pain will pierce through her shoulder right where the bullet had made its home there nearly twelve years ago. Stir the soup. Maybe her feet will be glued to the ground, making her unable to run; instead having to stare her death right in the face.

In her dreams, she rarely came out as fortunate as she had the actual day. She'd die, or be taken away, or watch herself be cremated, her body falling into clumps of ash, or have her spirit float right out of her vessel and be unable to be seen or heard. There were a million possible variations of her trauma, and tonight, Nadine found herself sprinting through an upside-down cityscape, pain ravaging through her arm. Occasionally, gravity would switch, and she'd flail, hitting on the ground up-right before continuing running, slow as an NPC in a video game, but most of the time she was sprinting through the sky, leaving a trail of blood behind her as she went.

She wasn't running from the attackers that had put that bullet in her arm in real life, though; instead she was sprinting away from a giant, colossal darkness that ate everything in its path, swallowing up whole buildings and mobs of screaming people, leaving only itself behind. Gravity switched and Nadine ran, her sprints getting progressively more sluggish as her vision began to turn white. Eventually, it felt like she was wading in molasses, and when she turned her head, she could see the darkness was right behind her, hovering as if waiting for her to notice it.

When she did, she could've sworn the blackness contorted itself, forming into a smile, before sweeping over her and swallowing her up.

Her eyes opened to find herself lying in her bed at the motel, covered in sweat and tangled in her blankets. Her paper-thin sheets had been tossed off of her, her pillow had somehow ended up on the floor, and her head was on the opposite side of the bed. Her chest was tight, like it had been wrapped in cellophane, and her breathing was ragged, like she'd just been underwater and had only recently broken the surface. She immediately unwrapped herself from the blankets, peeled herself off her bed, and headed into the bathroom to wash her face. She was still jet-lagged from the time difference between America and France—America was seven hours behind her home country—and when she checked the time, she found it was only 6 am.

She let out a sigh, splashing water in her eyes as if it could somehow wash away the nightmare. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, making it obvious that this would be an early morning. Regardless, she headed back to her bed and remade it, fluffing her pillows and rearranging the comforter in a way she preferred, though she didn't immediately climb back under the covers. Instead, she crossed over to her open suitcase to look for something to wear.

Pulling out a pink top and a black skirt, Nadine pulled her clothes on, trying not to think about her scars. The one on her shoulder, circular and white as the fang of a wolf, and the one that spiderwebbed out on her back, jagged and edgy, accompanied by a thin pink surgical line. It was grotesque, a mar on her perfect figure, and she hated looking at it. She had other scars—cutting across her cheek from an accident with her cousins when she was younger, a thin burn on her bicep from cooking—and these were the only ones she couldn't stand.

As she bustled about her motel room, teasing with her hair and ending up slipping a hairband into her unruly locks, thinking about everything that wasn't the day she'd gotten shot, seven rooms over, an assassin got his back massaged by his bed, while his partner rummaged through the package she'd acquired last night, searching for the tools she needed for that day. The assassins weren't aware of Nadine's presence seven rooms over, and she wasn't away of theirs, which was fortunate, given that a confrontation between them would've led to at least one corpse. The sheer unlikeliness of the situation at hand seemed to be the universe's idea of a joke. It was practically in cackles right now.

Nadine finished getting ready, she crossed over to her nightstand and checked her phone. There was a couple of texts from Camille (Nadine promptly ignored those), one from her father, asking her how she was and if she'd met the Hargreeves yet (she responded with a basic reply, conveniently forgetting to mention the fact that Five had returned), and one, surprisingly, from Vanya. After the woman's apparent reluctance to fork over her phone number last night, the fact that she'd already texted Nadine was unexpected.

The text said, I know we said this was strictly for business, but I didn't know who else to talk to. Five's in my apartment. He was bleeding from his arm and telling me something about the end of the world, and I'm really worried about him. I know you're probably asleep by now, but I had to tell somebody.

Nadine stared at the text for a minute. It had been sent at one in the morning, which was why she hadn't noticed it. She contemplated replying, her fingers twiddling over the keyboard, before breathing out a sigh and stowing her phone in her purse. Her skirt swished as she pulled on a pair of Doc Martens, and she straightened her headband one more time before heading out the door.

The wind caressed her cheeks soothingly as she made her way downstairs, cradling her wounded hand close to her. Time and sleep had made it so it was constantly throbbing, but one wrong move and pain would spike up her arm. Her Docs clicked along the sidewalk as she headed off in search of a place that would serve an early breakfast, thinking less about her gunshot wound and more about Vanya's text.

Okay, not Vanya's text. She was just thinking about Vanya; with her hair wrapped haphazardly into a bun, wisps escaping and framing her tender face, the way her mouth nearly always seemed to be tucked into a frown (though when she did smile, it was a beautiful thing). Nadine had seen her picture a thousand times on the back of her copy of Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven, but it was different in person. Back-cover Vanya was stagnant, dull. Real-life Vanya was full of life, practically bursting with it.

There weren't a lot of people out and about—probably because it was six-fifteen in the morning, and those who could sleep in were. And maybe it also had something to do with the fact that there was a shooting at a little donut shop last night.

Eventually, Nadine came across a 24-hour waffle place. Back in France, waffles were topped with either powdered sugar, jam, whipped cream, and occasionally Nutella, and this seemed like the type of place to serve that kind of thing instead of just with syrup (Nadine hated maple syrup), which enticed her inside. It was in the style of a sixties diner, and completely empty except for Nadine.

She ordered a coffee and a Belgian waffle (they didn't have Galettes here) and topped it with powdered sugar and berries. Sitting here, alone, eating waffles in a foreign country at seven in the morning was a quaint experience, and she made sure to savour every bite.

After breakfast, Nadine realized she literally had nothing to do. She found herself pulled to the water, so she found a seat near it and watched the city wake up. As she looked down at the water, she morphed her reflections into different shapes; a rabbit, a frog, a flying burrito (Klaus had gotten into her head), and wondered if she should just go home. And that was when her phone buzzed.

It was another text from Vanya. Five's gone. He left my apartment sometime last night, and I'm worried. He wasn't really making sense last night. Can you meet me back at the Academy?

Nadine blinked at it for a minute, trying to make the letters morph into words. She was so bleary she ended up using a translator to rearrange the words into the language she was more comfortable with, and when she finally read the text, she couldn't hide the smile that began to form on her face. This was the exact type of thing she'd wanted, and she was not going to turn down the opportunity to interact with the members of the Umbrella Academy again. Or the chance to walk through the halls for a second time, really taking in its enormity.

Even though she knew its grandeur was naught but a front, a way to hide the abuse Nadine knew was clearly there now. Not just from her conversation with Klaus yesterday, or Diego's rant at the funeral, but because of Vanya's book. Upon first read, Nadine had assumed it was greatly exaggerated and stemming from the bitterness of not being included, but leafing through the pages again after what she now knew made it clear that life at the Academy had been less than perfect.

After taking a minute to collect her thoughts, Nadine texted back, I'll be there. She resisted the urge to add I want to know more about you and I had a really good time dancing with you yesterday. Because that would be weird. And Nadine was almost thirty, and certainly was too mature for those teenagerly texts.

She rubbed her forehead, and then stood up, banishing the illusion of a school of fish she'd formed on the water. Time to meddle in family drama I'm not involved in, she thought wryly, before heading up to the road to hail a taxi. At least this time she had actually been invited.

THE ONLY FAMILY DRAMA Nadine had been involved in as a child was between her and her mother. She didn't have any siblings—apparently, her extraction from Louise's womb had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, as her parents had tried for another child multiple times and come up dry—and although she did have cousins, she didn't see them often enough to ever get into fights with them. So that left Louise and Nadine, though it was less fighting and fleeing and more Nadine just trying to get her mother to say those two fated words: je t'aime. Or maybe it was: je t'aime, mon ange. A scrap of Louise's affection was like meat tossed to a starving dog, and when it did, inevitably, come along, Nadine would savour it like she was starving. Because although Beau handed out his affection like candy, Louise's was harder to come by.

So this whole sibling thing was brand-new to Nadine, but she was rolling with it anyway. As her taxi pulled up to the infamous Umbrella Academy, she spotted Vanya hovering on the front steps, evidently waiting for her. The simple gesture fluttered around in her heart—Louise would've never done something like this for her—and it was so that when she eventually flounced out of the taxi, she had a spring in her step, like Dorothy on the yellow brick road.

She mounted the steps, ready to intervene in whatever Vanya wanted her to do. When she was one step below the Hargreeves woman (Vanya really was short. Five might've actually been taller than her, and he was in the body of a thirteen-year-old), she raised her arm in a wave. "Hello, Vanya."

"Hey, Nadine," Vanya replied. "Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure you would, since we don't know each other that well."

"I've got to pay you back for helping me somehow," said Nadine carelessly, even though that wasn't the reason she'd rushed over here. "So, do you think Five is here?"

Vanya shrugged. "I don't know where else he'd go."

She then proceeded to pull open the Academy doors, gesturing for Nadine to follow behind her. Once she got inside, out of the slight chill that had surmounted the air, Vanya took a few steps forward. "Five?"

"Five? Are you here?" Nadine called. She wasn't sure what Five would think about the fact that she was here again—he'd practically ignored her yesterday, though she couldn't blame him—but she quelled the urge to follow mutely beside Vanya and called out for the boy again. "Five?"

The two women walked through the hall, searching the rooms for any sign of Five Hargreeves. "Are you upstairs?" Vanya called after a moment, before climbing the ornate staircase she and Nadine had been sitting on yesterday. Nadine hastened to follow, feeling awkward and intrusive, her eyes darting around the rooms. Vanya called out for her brother again. "Five?"

After climbing yet another staircase, Nadine was beginning to lose hope that the boy was here, which, of course, meant that the next room she peeked in featured him, staring out the window. Vanya walked towards him, breathing out a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank God. I was worried sick about you. I asked Nadine to help me find you, but I didn't know if you were here."

Five turned towards Vanya, not even acknowledging Nadine's presence (she was currently hovering at the doorway). "Sorry I left without saying goodbye," he said softly.

"No, look, I'm the one that should be sorry," said Vanya. "Yeah, I was dismissive, and... I—I guess I didn't know how to process what you were saying. And I still can't, to be honest."

"Maybe you were right to be dismissive," Five replied. He sniffed. "Maybe it wasn't real after all."

The end of the world? Nadine thought, remembering the first text. Hopefully not.

Five continued, "It felt real. Well... like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind." He smiled sadly, hands in his pockets. Nadine knew she was out of place here, and didn't say anything, just allowed the siblings to talk.

"Then maybe I'm not the right person for you to be talking to," said Vanya. "Look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information."

Five looked away. "Thanks, but... I think I'm just gonna get some rest. It's been a long time since I've had a good sleep."

Vanya nodded. "Okay."

She turned, leaving her brother alone, and Nadine followed her out. After a moment, the Hargreeves woman turned to her. "Thanks," she said, "you know, for coming. I'm glad Five's all right."

Nadine nodded. "Me too."

Vanya began walking down the stairs, but stopped halfway down and turned to Nadine again. "We should get to know each other," she said. "I mean, I called you over here and I don't know, like, a single thing about you. I have violin lessons soon, so we'll have to make this quick, but I'd like to know at least a few things about you, Nadine."

"Well... I was born in France, but you already know that. I work at my father's hotel, Le Petit Montagne, and I've been all around Europe. Italy, Germany, England... the works."

Vanya nodded. "Cool. Do you play any instruments?"

"I played piano when I was younger, but now I'm pretty rusty. I'm more of a workout girl, you know? Lifting weights, going for runs..."

The conversation went on like this, with Nadine telling Vanya about herself and Vanya doing the same. Nadine learned that Vanya played violin, had since she was a kid, had never been in a long-lasting relationship before, and thought she might be from Russia. It was a nice conversation, until it was abruptly ended when the two women made their way down the stairs and found Allison on the phone, clearly distressed.

"Patrick!" she hissed, and Nadine realized who she was talking to—her ex-husband. Their divorce had been all over the news when it had happened, especially given the fact that Patrick had gotten custody of their daughter Claire. "Don't—"

Allison hung up the phone, and Vanya walked up to her sister. "Are you okay?"

Allison let out a sigh. "Yeah."

"Well, I've never met your ex-husband, but... he sounds like an asshole."

"That's one word for it."

"You know what?" Vanya said. "You're probably better off here."

"No," snapped Allison, "I'm probably better off with my daughter."

Nadine inhaled sharply at Vanya's mistake, though she knew Allison's anger wasn't really directed at her sister. It was at the court, perhaps, for giving Claire to Patrick instead of her, or maybe Patrick himself (he had sounded like an asshole on the phone).

Vanya shook her head, embarrassment blooming across her cheeks. "Of course. Um, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"You know, if I wanted advice, Vanya, no offence, it wouldn't be from you."

Nadine took a step forward, wound up like that stupid toy, snapping like a rubber band. "Don't fucking say that—"

Vanya spoke over her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Allison, taking a moment to shoot a glare at Nadine, said, "You don't have a child. You've never even been in a relationship."

"That's not true."

"So you know what it's like to love someone like this? Like, when you're apart from her, you can't breathe? Like you would—you would die, and I—I mean actually...die to know that she's okay and happy. I mean, you separate yourself from everyone and everything. You always have."

Vanya looked down. "Because Dad made me."

"Did Dad make you write that book about us, too?"

"Lay off her," Nadine snapped, crossing her arms. "She was just trying to help, and you turned it into a fucking attack. This is probably one of the reasons she wrote that book."

Allison regarded her coolly, her blonde hair bobbing slightly. Even slighted she was gorgeous. "I'm sorry, but what are you even doing here? You're not a part of the family."

"No shit," Nadine replied, "but Vanya asked me to come here, to help her. Not you. Not her family. Me. I think that says something about your relationship."

She recalled what Vanya had written about her childhood relationship with Allison in her book. Allison had constantly shut her out, locking herself away from her un-powerful sister, when all Vanya wanted was a friend in the girl. It was royally fucked-up, how Allison had treated Vanya, and Reginald Hargreeves wasn't even to blame for that one.

Allison rolled her eyes and pushed herself past both Vanya and Nadine, and the latter whirled to watch her go. Nadine thought she'd leave without comment, but when she got to the staircase, she turned back around. "You're an adult now, Vanya," she said smoothly. "You don't get to blame your problems on anyone but yourself. And you don't get people to fight your battles for you, either," she said, directing that at Nadine, who swallowed, resisting the temptation to make a swarm of wasps fly right at Allison's perfect face.

But then she was gone, leaving Nadine and Vanya in the dust. 

⋆*✧･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

HAVEN: nadine is so annoying 😭😭 i mean that was literally the point of this chapter but holy shit does she get on my nerves... i still love her though <3

i'm so excited for the next few chapters y'all... we're going to find out some things about nadine's accident 😳 not everything though because i gotta keep you guys in suspense

thank you for reading :)