CHAPTER FOUR
cherry bomb

warning: this chapter contains sexual harassment.

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THE FISH SWAM in circles around the bucket as Nadine heaved it out of the water. It was a Harlequin Tuskfish—scientific name Choerodon fasciatus—and its species was native to the western Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful and fascinating creature, with pumpkin orange bands wrapped around a white body, and four sharp teeth protruding from its mouth. Its yellow, fan-like fins cut through the saltwater of its bucket as it explored the constraints of its temporary home—which took about five seconds. The bucket only served to transfer the fish from its old tank to its new one—a process that was certainly outdated, back in 2019—but Nadine could tell that even if this period of confinement would be brief, it was likely still suffocating.

Pitying the small creature, Nadine set the bucket down on the bench by its tank and drew a container of worms from her pocket (if she were anywhere else, it would've been strange to carry this around; here, it was completely normal). Sinking her gloved fingers into the grooves, she popped off the container's lid and fished out a particularly fat worm from the wriggling mass inside. When she dropped the fish's food into the bucket, it could only manage to flail slightly before the Harlequin Tuskfish was upon it, sharp teeth cutting into its meal.

Seeing the fish so ravenously devour its meal sent another twinge of guilt into Nadine, and she resolved to pick up the pace in her transference. A new gallery had recently opened in another wing of the aquarium, and Mr. Flannigan had requested that some of the saltwater fish be transferred over. Fortunately, it would be a slightly larger tank, giving them a little more room to swim around in. They just needed to make it through the relocation process.

It wasn't like this bigger tank was out of the kindness of Mr. Flannigan's heart, though. Nearly every Ichthyologist Nadine had spoken to had made it clear that they saw the fish they worked with as nothing more than things to be diagrammed, charted, dissected. This was likely the mindset of most non-Ichthyologists—to most people, Nadine knew, fish weren't exactly ethereal—but for people who'd dedicated their lives to researching and documenting the creatures, it was ridiculous that they weren't appreciated more. It was just yet another reason why Nadine needed to work her way upwards.

"Bon travail, André," she whispered now, watching as the Harlequin Tuskfish finished its meal. She named all of the fish she worked with, ensuring that they wouldn't be forgotten by her. She spoke to them too, and always in French. At this point, after two years of being in Texas, they were the only reason she hadn't completely forgotten her native language. "Attendez encore un peu et vous serez dans votre nouvelle maison." Good job, André. Just hold on a little while longer and you'll be at your new home.

Allowing herself a brief rest—and only brief, as André didn't deserve to be in the bucket for long—Nadine sunk down on the bench beside the fish, wiping sweat off of her brow. A sigh broke from her lips. Mr. Flannigan was such a dreadful hypocrite—he couldn't give her a position as an Ichthyologist because she was a woman, but he had no qualms about giving her the sort of gruelling assignments seen as unladylike regardless. Nadine couldn't count the number of times one of her coworkers had offered to carry a ladder for her, or scrub the outsides of the larger tanks, all while shooting her a look that plainly said she shouldn't be doing this kind of work in the first place. Never mind that she could probably bench-press at least three of them with one arm—to them, woman was a word synonymous with weak.

"Les connards," she muttered. Assholes.

A count to twenty, and then Nadine was on her feet again, taking the bucket as she started off to the other end of the aquarium. André thrashed a little in his bucket, sending drops of saltwater flying into the air. Nadine quickened her pace, keeping her head glued to the floor. To reach the new wing of the aquarium, she needed to cross the main area, which meant potential interaction with its patrons. Indeed, although it was nearly noon, and therefore not the aquarium's busiest hour, there were still a few people roaming from tank to tank, wide eyes locked on the sights beneath the glass. Nadine managed to pass by five people without comment, and was thinking she wouldn't have to speak to anyone at all when she noticed the boy tapping on the glass.

He was about eight years old, and was trying to get the attention of a Blackeye goby, a small creature that clutching didn't seem as if it was appreciating the annoyance. A woman Nadine assumed was the boy's mother was at his other hand, but she was too focused on the flits of a seahorse to tell her son off. With a clench of her jaw, Nadine went over to the boy, lugging the bucket with her.

"Hey," she called. The boy looked up, then blanched at the sight of her. Nadine gave him the dirtiest look she could muster and said, "Don't you see the sign? No tapping on the glass."

The boy blew raspberries at her, and Nadine blew them right back. His mother finally looked away from the seahorse and up to Nadine, her eyes narrowing. She looked Nadine up and down, her face spelling out her impression of her, and then tugged the boy away, whispering something to him. Nadine watched the pair go, and something in her gut twisted. She knew that kind of look. Knew, down to her bones, exactly what the boy's mother thought of her.

It was a look she got both in 2019 and 1963.

With her stomach still lurching, as if the contents had been stirred, Nadine set off again. Blissfully, it didn't take her long before she'd made it out of the main area—and she had no more interactions with the patrons on the way. Relieved, Nadine unclipped the velvet barrier that blocked off unauthorized personnel and entered the wing. The lighting was patchy in here—it hadn't been fully installed yet, a job that would probably be handed to Nadine in the future—and a little too warm. It smelled like lemons, and it didn't take long for Nadine to see why: another janitor was scrubbing the floor, suds of soap gleaming white. Thomas Clarkson.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.

At the sound of her heels, echoing across the polished floors, Thomas looked up, his flaxen hair falling into his eyes. When he saw who had entered the area, he smiled, eagerly leaning forward and nearly knocking over his soap bucket with his elbow.

Recovering quickly (at least in his eyes), Thomas flashed an eager smile. "Morning, Nadine."

Nadine nodded in his direction. "Hello, Thomas."

"Need any help with that bucket?" Thomas looked down at the mess of lemon cleaner on the floor, shrugged, and stood up fervently. "It looks heavy."

"I doubt your twig arms could handle it." Did Nadine mention that she wasn't in the mood for this today?

Ignoring this comment, Thomas shed his gloves and took a step towards her. He was a newcomer; young, only twenty-three (which explained why he'd been relegated to one of the worst jobs in the aquarium), with a round, freckled face and straw-thin hair he kept too long in the front. He was uncomfortably similar to Nadine's coworker at La Petite Montagne, Henri Pichard. This wasn't solely because of their restlessness; no, it was because both of them were hopelessly, infuriatingly smitten with her.

Henri used to bring Nadine boxes of chocolate, bouquets of roses. While Thomas hadn't gotten to that level yet, he did let out lengthy, dreamy sighs whenever he thought Nadine was out of earshot, and tripped over his feet (more than usual!) to help her whenever she walked past. Plus, half of the time he was around her, his face went so red you could fry an egg on it.

He wasn't exactly subtle.

This whole situation—of having yet another man pine after her, when she'd made it as obvious as she could here that she wasn't interested—was incredibly frustrating. Sure, Thomas didn't seem like one of those men who felt owed a woman's affection solely because he'd been nice to her (Nadine had, unfortunately, encountered plenty of those in the past), but it was difficult to be comfortable with the prospect of any man fancying her. Back in 2019, before she'd gone to meet the Umbrella Academy, she'd wanted to get a pin of the lesbian flag, so she could broadcast that she wasn't interested to any man in the vicinity (though it was likely some would still go after her regardless). This wasn't exactly possible in 1963, though, for more ways than one. Which meant that all she could do was grit her teeth and attempt to survive a world that was so overwhelmingly heterosexual, nobody would even dream that Nadine would rather gouge out her eyes than get with any man.

"Are you sure?" Thomas asked now, his eyes wide with hope. "I mean, it'd just be rude for me to stand there while you struggle—"

"I'm not struggling." Nadine wasn't even lying. She could lug about five of these buckets in her sleep. "I'm fine. So if you could just excuse me and allow me to bring André to his new home, I would be very grateful."

"André?" Thomas repeated. "Do you mean the fish?"

Nadine cut him a look. "Yes."

Hoping this conversation was over, Nadine set off again, but Thomas—leaving that lemon-fresh slip-and-slide on the floor—jogged to catch up with her. "It's fun that you name them. The fish, I mean," he clarified, as if there was any ambiguity in that sentence. "Have you named all of the fish in the aquarium, or just the ones you work with?"

Nadine ignored him, silently praying he'd take the hint. Her fist tightened over the handle of the bucket, and almost subliminally, the fingers of her left hand splayed. Before she realized what she was doing, she was in the midst of constructing a Sanctuary.

During these past two years in Dallas, Nadine had drilled her abilities, attempting to figure out what she could and couldn't do. Although she'd been with her illusions for all of her life, she hadn't exactly been able to work out the kinks. Of course, this was due to Louise, who began to frantically weep whenever she saw a too-fake butterfly or a frog large enough to sit in Nadine's palm. Even when Nadine wasn't living with her anymore (though she still saw her at La Petite Montagne too many times for her liking), she'd still subconsciously suppressed this piece of herself. It was only when she was with the Umbrella Academy that she finally learned how to control it.

Now though, with Louise decades and a continent away, Nadine no longer had any reluctance to use her abilities. They'd saved her life, after all, even if they weren't as practical as throwing knives or performing mind control. So, she'd practiced. Not only had she made a dozen new Sanctuaries to get herself lost in (including a fairytale cottage, a mermaid's cove, and a sky full of a trillion stars), but she'd also pushed the boundaries a little more. Right now, for example, she was testing out invisibility. True invisibility, not the darkness she cloaked around the eyes of her enemies. Unfortunately, it was an exceptionally finicky process, and so far, she'd only managed to perfect her arms.

With more practice, though... every time she thought about it, her heart thumped in excitement. Invisibility had countless uses. Perhaps if she figured it out, her abilities could be used for more than just a party trick.

For now, though, she had to settle for the gifts she already had.

Still, she supposed they weren't entirely without value. Her Sanctuaries would forever be the best part about them—when reality seemed like too much, she could simply proceed into another one. The scenes she created—the world she sculpted—may have only been limited to sight, but recently, Nadine had managed to make them feel almost real regardless. They'd never be perfect, not without the other senses, but they were enough. They allowed her to take a breath, to remind herself of who she was, what she was capable of. They allowed her a moment to rest.

Now was certainly a time for that. So, with a twitch of her fingers, Nadine built one of her newer scenes. As her forehead buzzed and her heels clicked against the floor, the blue skeleton of a beach at sunset filled in with colour, life. Between one stride and another, Nadine exited the aquarium and entered gentle waters.

Maybe it was dangerous to completely obscure her surroundings while walking—like a head bent over a book in a busy street—but by now, Nadine knew this place by heart. Stepping around a tank she couldn't see, Nadine walked along the beach, watching a flock of seagulls soar across a pink and gold sky. She couldn't smell the brine of the ocean, couldn't hear the horn of a boat farther out, and she couldn't feel the sand between her toes. She also knew that if she focused her energy, the image would blur and it would seem more like the layer it was. But that was okay. At least she'd stepped away from the aquarium, if only for a moment. At least she'd stepped away from Thomas.

Well... almost. For Nadine was just ducking around another invisible tank, her body light, when Thomas's voice cut through the tranquil scene, booming around Nadine like an omniscient being. "So, what made you work at the Dallas Aquarium? Wouldn't someone of your—wouldn't someone like, um, like you want to work in... other locations?"

Nadine clenched her jaw. She knew what he was insinuating, even if he didn't say outright. He wanted to know why a woman would choose to work at the Dallas Aquarium. He wanted to know why she didn't just go home and be a pretty little housewife like everyone else.

"No." Nadine's feet sloshed into the water. She couldn't feel it seeping into her shoes, of course, but the sight of it was comforting, nonetheless. Well, at least until she reached the right tank. Then the whole scene—the beach, the ocean, the seagulls—needed to be rubbed away.

It was almost disappointing to dissolve the beach and reappear back at the aquarium. Chewing on her lip and reminding herself that she could return to her Sanctuary after work today (or, if it was really dull, later in her shift), Nadine hauled a ladder from the wall and positioned it against the tank. With André's bucket still in hand, she climbed, still pointedly ignoring Thomas. He'd moved over to the bottom of the ladder, and gripped the edges to stabilize it, something Nadine would thank him for if she wasn't already so fucking annoyed.

Oh, to be invisible right now. Then maybe Thomas would finally leave her alone.

Nadine reached the top of the ladder and bent over the edge of the open tank. Below her was an entire school of fish, a colourful array she and the other janitors had already transferred (was this even a janitor's job? Apparently in the Dallas Aquarium it was). This would be André's new home, as much as Nadine wished it would be the sea.

"Au revoir, André," she said, and then tipped him into the tank. The Harlequin Tuskfish fell into the water with a splash, took a second to recuperate, and then swam off, heading towards the further end of the tank. Nadine watched him go with relief. Goodbye, André.

That's the last one, she realized, stepping down from the ladder. Brushing past Thomas, who was still clutching the ladder, Nadine made for the break room. According to the clock mounted onto the wall near André's new home, it was about ten minutes away from lunchtime. Considering Nadine didn't have any other tasks assigned to her this morning, she figured she could just head over there now. A half-hour with a coffee, a sandwich, and an Ichthyology paper sounded about as close to heaven as she could get while still on the clock. Well, if she could ditch Thomas first.

To Nadine's dismay, Thomas still hadn't gotten the hint. She wasn't sure how many signals of disinterest she'd sent to her coworker at this point, but apparently, it hadn't been enough. Case in point: as Nadine shed her gloves and stepped around the puddle Thomas had left behind, he followed, muttering something about it being time for his break, too. As a muscle ticked in Nadine's jaw, Molly's face flashed into her mind, sweet and compassionate, yet unafraid to be firm when the time called for it. Her voice practically rung in Nadine's mind, telling her to let him down gently, but to also make it clear that his pining made her uncomfortable. Because even if Nadine was attracted to men, he was simply too young for her. And far too clingy for her taste.

Nadine had never been too good at being gentle. Oh, she was a woman in touch with her feminine side, but—despite what men might think—that didn't soften her sharp edges. She had about the subtlety of an elephant when it came to confrontation, and the temper of a volcano. This was a woman who'd broken up with her second girlfriend (Manon Basile, age seventeen), by saying, "Look, if you're going to sit back and do nothing when people call me slurs, I don't fucking want to be with you anymore."

Of course, there were times where a version of a soft Nadine came out sometimes. That early morning with Klaus, when he'd told her about his dead lover. Occasionally with her father, on the days where her mood was milder than usual. Anytime with Vanya or Molly, two people Nadine wanted to be better for.

Not Thomas, though. Not a man who had been pestering her for far too long now.

When she whirled around to face him, she realized just how much taller she was. Even if she wasn't wearing her heels, she would've had at least three inches on him; with them on, it was six. She was a giantess, looming over her helpless prey. A human, trying to squash a particularly annoying bug.

"Can you stop following me?" she snapped, sharp as the bite of a rabid wolf. Although she'd managed to reign in her temper a little during these past two years in Dallas, there were still too many situations that pushed her back to boiling point. This was one of them.

Thomas's eyes went comically wide. "Sorry?"

"You're not a dog, Thomas. You don't need to be trailing after me like one."

He blanched, skin going paper-white under his freckles. "I'm not following you," he mumbled. It was such an unconvincing lie that Nadine almost snorted. "I just..." he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, readying himself for something. Then, after he was looking up at her again: "Look, Nadine, we've known each other for a while now, haven't we? So, um, I was... I was wondering if you'd want to accompany me to dinner sometime? I-I'd pay, of course. But, um, we could get to know each other better. I mean, all we've talked about here is work, and I hardly know a thing about you. And, well, I'd like to know more about you." His lips spread into a dreamy smile. "If I haven't made it clear yet, Nadine... I think you're amazing."

And there it was. Honestly, Nadine couldn't help but be impressed that he'd confessed his feelings so quickly. She'd thought it would have taken him at least a few more months to admit he fancied her, but now here he was, managing to stutter it out a lot earlier than expected.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, irritating an old wound. It didn't take long for the taste of blood to fill her mouth. As she swallowed it, trying not to think about time travel and slit throats and bullets tearing through shoulders, she allotted herself a few seconds of silence. Lately, she'd been attempting to actually think before she spoke—a foreign concept to her—and not just burst out with complete and utter impulsivity. But it was a slow process, and when she was full of emotion, it became more difficult to not just blurt out whatever she was thinking.

What were her options? She could do what Molly wanted and let him down slowly, gently insisting that they'd be better off as friends (though she'd rather be neither). Unfortunately, this could very easily blow up in her face. Thomas might insist she give him a chance, or guilt-trip her into saying yes ("Oh, I understand. I know I'm too ugly and stupid to ever be the boyfriend of someone as beautiful as you", or something along that vein). Or she could do it the Nadine Way, and simply just tell him to fuck off. Of course, this could also have disastrous consequences. Thomas could find a way to get her fired. He could threaten her—something that had also happened too many times. There were so many possibilities, and none of them were good.

Men could never take a 'no' for an answer. Nadine had doled out enough rejections in her life to know that. They called her a bitch, a whore, an ugly shitbag (never mind the fact that they'd been eyeballing her only moments before). They shouted slurs at her, objectified her. They threatened her with assault and murder.

There was no winning with them.

Nadine liked to believe she was strong, powerful, resilient. But there were times that even she was tempted to just comply. To stop the harassment, if only for a minute.

Today, though, she was in too horrible of the mood to entertain Thomas, even for a moment. So, she picked a third option; one somewhere in the middle of one and two. With her jaw still clenched, her entire body rigid, she said, "I'm going to have to say no to that."

Thomas blinked. "What?"

"I said that I don't want to go out for dinner with you. I have no interest."

His mouth dropped open a little. That, paired with the bulging of his eyes, made him resemble one of the fish Nadine had just relocated. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes.

"But—what? Why not?" Thomas's voice quivered.

"Do you want me to spell it out for you?" Nadine's fangs dripped. "You're asking me on a date, and I'm turning you down because I don't reciprocate your feelings. That's that."

"Well, I—" Thomas cut himself off, then jutted out the bottom of his lip. "You should—you should at least give me a chance." There it was. "A woman your age... well, she should be married at the very least, even if she doesn't have children. The fact that you haven't done either... well, there's been talk. Not... not good talk, if you hadn't figured that out. I thought... I could... well, if you married me—"

"Married you?" Nadine repeated incredulously. "Are you fucking kidding me? You were talking about dinner two seconds ago!"

Thomas's face was still white as milk, but he seemed to have found his footing now, and wasn't inclined to lose it. So, with his back straight, he continued, "See, that's another thing. The cussing. It's—it's quite impolite, you know, and not fit for a woman of your status. I mean, if you keep doing it, people may wonder if you're a hooker."

Nadine was practically seeing red. "There's nothing wrong with hookers, Thomas."

"I'm just saying... Nadine, if you married me, you wouldn't have to deal with those rumours. I'd... I'd protect you. If you were my wife... well, nobody would dare speak about you in such a manner."

Each word that came out of Thomas's mouth only added to the already boiling volcano that was Nadine Vidal. Her face was aflame, her fists clenched, her entire body stiff in anger. Not only had Thomas persisted when Nadine had turned him down—though this was to be expected, at this point—but he'd also dove into a pool of sexism so deep, it seemed to be pulling him down. Looking down on women in sex work, insinuating that it was wrong to be single, believing that Nadine couldn't protect herself... it went on and on, like he was attempting to score a Bingo on the "How to Annoy Nadine Vidal" card. It took everything in her to keep herself from kicking him right in the groin.

"I don't give a shit," she sneered. The clock was ticking, and if Thomas fucking Clarkson made her miss even one minute of her break, she was going to punch a hole into the wall—or into him. "People can spread all of the rumours they want. I'm still not getting married. And even if I was, Thomas, I sure as hell wouldn't marry you."

Thomas's face screwed up in anger. His chest heaved. After a moment of silence broken only by his heated panting, he snarled, "No wonder the others say you're a good-for-nothing skank."

She was going to kill him. She really was. "Excuse me?"

"I thought everyone was just being cruel when they whispered about you. Now I see that they were right. You are a skank, Nadine Vidal. And you're never going to find someone who'd ever love you."

Nadine had heard worse before. Of course, she had. She'd probably said worse, too, in moments where she could see nothing but blood. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter, because this whole conversation had brought her closer and closer to blowing her top, and this was the last piece in the puzzle, the last weight on the scale. So as Thomas's side tipped down, and Nadine's was elevated, she was completely overtaken by her primary emotion.

Rage.

Steam was practically piping from her ears. Her entire world darkened into shades of crimson. A monster in her chest reared its head and sent loose a burst of flame.

At that moment, her mind stepped aside and let her body take over. Her body—still a feral beast, a furious dragon, a rabid dog—moved, and before Nadine could even catch up with what her own limbs were doing, she seized Thomas by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

Thomas cried out in pain, flailing his legs, but before he could make any pleas, Nadine drew her face close to his. When they were close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheeks, she growled, "Don't you ever fucking say something like that to me, Thomas Clarkson. I don't want to fuck you, and you need to get over it. It doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with me—what's wrong with you is that you don't know how to take 'no' for an answer. Do you want to know what it means? Well, I can teach you. It means stop following me around. It means stop pestering me while I'm trying to do my job, and to do your own work instead of hoping it'll clean itself. It means to close your mouth for once in your fucking life. Got it?"

When Thomas didn't respond, too busy gaping—he looked less like a fish now, and more like a wide-mouthed frog—Nadine shook him again. "Got it?"

"Miss Vidal!"

A harsh voice cut through this wing of the aquarium, and Nadine startled. Immediately, she let go of Thomas's collar—he fell to the ground in a heap, gasping for breath—and turned to face the source of the voice. In this case, it meant her boss.

Leroy's face was about as red as a tomato, and about as swollen as one. In fact, his entire body was so puffed up that it was a miracle his shirt had still kept all of his buttons. His stringy blond hair was plastered to his face with sweat, and he was clutching a stitch in his side. As he wheezed for air, Nadine brushed off her skirt, clasped her hands behind her back, and smiled at her boss.

"Hello, Mr. Flannigan. Can I help you?"

"Can you—can you help me?" Leroy, still wheezing, stomped over to her. "Miss Vidal! Care to—care to explain what I just witnessed?"

Nadine shrugged, keeping the smile on her face, as if she hadn't just been tossing Thomas around like a ragdoll. Her hands were shaking, and her heart thudded in her ears, but she forced herself to appear calm. "Depends, Mr. Flannigan, on what you saw."

The tomato-red of Leroy's face deepened to purple. "I'd like to see you in my office!" he shouted. Always the dramatic, he was. Most of the time, he acted as if he was playing a part in a bad movie. "Now!"

Nadine shrugged again, stepping away from the wall and an aghast Thomas. "All right," she said. She hoped Leroy didn't notice her trembling. "Let's go, then."

Betraying none of the dread tumbling in her stomach, Nadine, head high, began to make her way to his office. Leroy followed, now muttering something under his breath about women and menstruation and hysteria. If Nadine hadn't been so nauseous, she would've rolled her eyes. Men blamed any burst of female emotion on periods. They didn't seem to believe that there were other extenuating circumstances—like being persistently heckled by a man nearly ten years younger than you—that could push a woman over the edge.

When Nadine eventually entered Leroy's office to receive her fate, she didn't think about how she was going to break the news to Molly that she'd been fired. No, all that was on her mind was the fact that, after everything that had just happened, she was still going to miss her break.

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HAVEN: thomas clarkson, linda fairgrieves (collins, burton, whatever) and daniel tree should start a "i suck too much to even be given a faceclaim" club!! leroy can join as an honourary member <333

okay but seriously, the harassment nadine faces at the hands of thomas isn't something i just made up—it's something that happens to women every day. unfortunately, not a lot of women have the ability to lash out at their attackers, like nadine did. at least, not if they want to keep their jobs or even their lives. i'd just like to put here that nadine defending herself is very much a power fantasy, something i feel like every women wishes they could do when we experience this kind of harassment at the hands of men. it's fanfiction. it's not based in reality, as much as we wish it might be.

with that out of the way, we're almost at the end of the pre-season chapters! there's only one left (wink, wink), and then we're jumping back into the tua plot!! don't worry, there will still be plenty of extra scenes nestled in there :))

thank you for reading!! <333