CHAPTER EIGHT
curiosity killed the cat

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BEFORE HER UMBRELLA ACADEMY phase, Nadine had an astronomy one. She was twelve years old, a year before the bank robbery that would change the world, and instead of attempting to hand-sew her own Umbrella Academy uniform and cut out her own mask, she would make cardboard space helmets and stick glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. Instead of obsessively rewatching interviews with the Hargreeves children, Nadine would go through documentary after documentary about the Moon landing and the first spacewalks and the planets in the solar system. It was an obsession that so consumed her that, for a little while, she believed she'd grow up to be an astronaut.

Even years later, when Ichthyology became her main passion, Nadine's head was still full of facts about the universe. But no matter what she learned about other planets, no matter how many times she charted stars, Nadine's favourite celestial body was always Earth's own Moon.

There were still sometimes now that she went outside at a late hour, marvelling up at the milky orb that hung above her. Humankind had resided on there, once. Luther had spent four years on its surface, with nothing but the plants he cared for as company. Perhaps someday, far in the future, humankind would make it their second home.

It was also both strange and thrilling to realize that the Moon you were looking up to—no matter if it was a crescent fingernail, or a half slice of pie, or a full, waxy circle—was the same Moon that all of humanity had feasted its eyes upon. Cleopatra, Aristotle, Shakespeare... all of them had looked up at night and seen what Nadine did every night. In a way, this linked humanity together.

Then the Moon had been destroyed. And thus, humanity had shattered.

Tonight, though, the Moon was shining again, as it had for the past two years Nadine had been here. Time travelling away from the end of the world had inadvertently restrung the bond of humanity, but she couldn't help but worry that it was a temporary fix. A bandage on a wound that needed stitches.

According to Five, though, the upcoming apocalypse was not caused by a broken Moon. This was a nuclear war; a conflict between Russia and America that had spread to the rest of the world. Nadine wondered, though, what would become of the Moon if she failed again. Would it darken as the world was consumed in an inferno, or would it shine, healed and whole, in mockery?

Perhaps it was stupidly optimistic, but Nadine expected the former. The Moon had been through throughout the ascent of humanity; surely it would weep when that humanity came to an end.

In the backseat of Diego's car (Five had, of course, claimed shotgun) Nadine watched it, feeling the connection tug at the pit of her belly. It wasn't a full moon, though it was nearly there; a few days shy of being a full circle. It was still lovely, though, and as its light bathed Nadine's face, her mind went to the other members of the Umbrella Academy, the ones still lost. Were they looking at it, too? Surely Luther was. He'd spent enough time up there for it to feel like a second home. And maybe Allison was, too, because she'd always been so close with him. Perhaps Klaus had risen his gaze to marvel at it before climbing into bed.

Vanya could be looking, too. Vanya, who'd destroyed it, must have been so relieved to find it in one piece again. She'd been given a second chance. Nadine knew she wouldn't waste it.

Besides the astronomy phase and the newfound respect she'd formed for the celestial body, though, there was one more reason Nadine loved the Moon—so much so, in fact, that on their first anniversary, Nadine had given her a Moon pendant on a chain. It wasn't because Molly reminded her of it (though her skin did mimic its shine, and her hair tumbled down dark as the night it rose on). No, it was because, a year before, the day she and Molly had exchanged their first kisses, the fat, full Moon had paid witness.

It had been midnight, or some time around there, and the sun had long since made its way below the horizon. In a field of the middle of Nowhere, Texas, where frogs croaked, crickets chirped, and fireflies glowed amber, Molly Hamasaki and Nadine Vidal lay on their backs, looking up at the stars.

They'd brought vodka with them, and macarons, though both had been long since consumed. Now, the vodka bottles sat by Molly's feet, and nothing remained of the macarons except for the box they'd come in. As Nadine and Molly lay together, stomachs pleasantly full and minds pleasantly buzzing, they pointed out the constellations that sprinkled the night sky.

Nadine may have had an astronomy phase, but Molly had an astrology one. It was because of this that both of them could pick out each and every grouping of stars, keeping their gazes locked on the sky to prevent themselves from looking into each other's eyes.

"See, there?" Molly asked, making an L with her fingers. "That's Scorpius, right? And... and over there, that's Libra, isn't it?"

Nadine squinted, then nodded. "Yep."

"You're a Libra, aren't you, Nads? October 1st?"

"That's me," said Nadine. "In the flesh." Then she laughed, because she was in that pleasant state of drunkenness where everything seemed hilarious, and her lips were looser than usual. Perhaps, if she were with anyone else, she would be embarrassed, but Molly had seen her at her worst. Like that first day, when she'd barged right into the Sunrise Cove with a whole new wave of trauma washing over her.

Nadine was glad it had been Molly working the front desk that night.

"You know, when I was younger, I used to be jealous of the other signs," said Nadine, swatting away a mosquito that aimed to make a feast out of her arm. "It's stupid, I know. But I mean, everyone else got crabs and lions and goats and fish, and what did I get? A... a fuckin' scale."

When Molly laughed, it sounded like wind chimes. Nadine's heart inadvertently sped up at the sound, and she had realized just how close she was to her. The two of them were sharing a blanket, and their bodies were a hair's breadth away from touching. If Nadine tensed up, she knew she would feel the soft brush of Molly's arm against hers.

Even now, she could feel the heat emanating off Molly's skin.

She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to roll onto her side and tug Molly's face to hers, and she wanted to get lost in the haze until the sun rose again. She'd known Molly for eleven months now, enough time for her to come to terms with the fact that she'd fallen for her, head over heels. Although an inkling of romantic attraction for Vanya Hargreeves sat in the corner of her heart, stubbornly taking up a section, it was her love for Molly who filled up the rest of it.

But even in a drunken state, Nadine wouldn't dare make a move on her. Drunk or sober, Nadine always had that fear nagging at the back of her mind, reminding her that if anyone figured out her sexuality, they'd grow to hate her. That Molly, sweet Molly, would spit slurs at her and quite literally throw her back out onto the streets.

Nadine didn't want Molly to hate her. She didn't want the soft way Molly looked at her to harden, for her kind smile to curl into disgust. She didn't want repulsion to replace fondness, disgust to replace affection.

No, she couldn't say anything. Couldn't do anything. Not in 1962.

"It could be worse," Molly had said, after a minute. "At least you're not a Virgo. Our symbol's literally the virgin."

Now it was Nadine's turn to laugh again, and laugh she did, hearty as a belly full of soup. "That's just false advertising," she said. "I wouldn't want people to get the wrong opinion of me."

She wanted to take the words back as soon as she said them. Although she'd said it in jest, she'd forgotten, for a moment, where she was, who she was with. Her face grew hot, and she was about to make an excuse for what she'd said when Molly rolled over to face her.

Molly's pupils were dilated, her own cheeks slightly flushed. Nadine didn't know if it was from drunkenness or from what Nadine had just inadvertently confessed to.

"You're not a virgin?" she asked, her voice breathy. "But... I thought you told me you'd never married."

Nadine's face grew hotter. "I haven't," she admitted. "It was... I know I shouldn't have, but..."

"Some people say it's a sin," said Molly. Nadine tried to turn away from her at that, but she caught her by the wrist, and jerked her in closer. Now, their noses were almost touching. The ghost of Molly's breath caressed her cheeks. "I think that's a load of baloney, though."

A rush of relief swelled through Nadine, swift and powerful as a tornado. "Me, too," she whispered.

She really wanted to kiss her.

"There are a lot of things I don't believe," Molly admitted. "A lot of things society has told me I should. Maybe it's because that same society has treated me like hot garbage. I used to think I deserved it. There were a lot of times... well, it was all I knew. I'm not saying I had it the worst, but I had it bad enough to internalize everything. But ever since John died... I don't know. Maybe they're all wrong."

She was drunk. That had to be the only reason she was getting so close to Nadine as she spoke. Still, Nadine couldn't help but be flustered. It was so unlike her it was almost laughable, but that had always been the effect a pretty woman had on her. It was enough to reduce her to a stammering, red-cheeked mess.

Still, she couldn't help but ask. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it doesn't matter what you might've done. I'm saying that even if the world tells us we are, we're not wrong. We may be outcasts, but we're outcasts together." She smiled. And Nadine knew she was drunk. She knew Molly wouldn't be saying this if she was sober.

Her breath caught anyway.

She was going to kiss her. The desire had filled her to the brim, threatening to bubble over. And Molly was so close, and Nadine was staring into the beautiful earthen brown of her eyes. From here, that was all she could see—those brown eyes, even though everything else had gone blurry. And Molly... Molly was seeing a mirrored image; blue, instead of brown. An ocean that swept away everything else.

In the end, Nadine didn't kiss Molly.

Molly kissed her.

For a moment (or a million), the two of them were connected, a bond that formed beyond just their lips. Nadine breathed in Molly; Molly breathed in Nadine. The kiss was macarons and lavender, vanilla and vodka. It was finality, the perfect fit of a key into a lock. It was completeness, two halves of a whole, broken pieces of China glued back together. For just as books were made to be read, and hands were meant to be held, Nadine and Molly's lips were meant to be kissed. More specifically, they were meant to kiss each other.

Nadine wasn't sure how long it had been when Molly pulled away, but it certainly hadn't been long enough. As soon as Molly's lips separated from hers, a tremendous want—no, an ache—for more spread throughout her body. Immediately, she wanted to lean right back in and continue what they had started. But Molly had pulled away for a reason.

It had probably just been some big mistake.

"I'm sorry," Molly said eventually. Her voice was husky, sending delicious tingles down Nadine's spine. "I didn't—I mean, if you don't—I'm sorry."

Molly was apologizing to her? Nadine's lips—still alight with the remnants of the kiss—parted. "Why are you sorry?" she asked. "It's not—it's not like I was pulling away."

Molly's cheeks went redder, and Nadine knew it hadn't been a mistake, after all. "I really like you," she said. "More than I've liked anyone. It's only been a year, but..." ran a hand through her hair, delightfully mussed up. "There's just something about you, Nadine Vidal."

"There's something about you, Molly Hamasaki," said Nadine. Giddiness was filling her up, side-by-side with her desire. "Something beautiful and wonderful and brilliant and courageous and kind. Something that made me fall in love with you."

"And I you," said Molly, and then she was leaning forward again.

The kiss had been even better the second time.

THE MEMORY OF HER FIRST kiss with Molly filled Nadine up with tranquillity as the car pulled up to Reginald Hargreeves' company building. She hadn't meant to get so lost in recollection, but the sight of the Moon, lovely and white, had dredged it up again. Well, not just the Moon. Also the truth, the one that Nadine had been futilely attempting to shove aside ever since she'd gotten together with Molly—that her girlfriend didn't know her. Not really. There may have been quite a lot Molly did know of Nadine—her favourite colour, her dream job, her sleeping position, the exact shade of her eyes—but she didn't know everything.

She didn't know the origin of the bullet scar in her shoulder, or the true year she was born, or the fact that she could create illusions with the splay of her fingers. And now that Nadine was off with the Umbrella Academy, there were even more lies she'd have to tell.

Just before she'd left Elliott's Nadine had called Molly and told her she was catching up with family friends. She would be late to get home, she said, tonight and likely tomorrow, too. It had been so long since she'd seen these friends. They had a lot of catching up to do.

It was sad how easy it was getting to lie.

And it was sad, too, how easy lies of omission were; on the phone, Nadine did not once mention the fact that she'd been fired. Sure, it had been her choice to finally let Leroy know what she really felt about him, but Molly wouldn't understand. Because if Nadine told her why she'd decided to throw away the job that had sustained her for nearly two years, then she'd have to tell her about the end of the world. The fact that she was from the future. All of the things she was trying to keep secret.

All those secrets sometimes felt as if they were crushing her.

"This is it," Five said now. The car idled, puffs of smoke spitting out into the night sky. Five seemed unusually twitchy. Nadine supposed he had reason to be.

She stepped out of the car and took a moment to properly take in the building. Despite the era it had been made in, it was strangely modern, with all glass windows and gray bricks. The umbrella insignia—the same one tattooed on the wrists of Five, Diego, and the rest of the Academy—was printed on one wall, throwing all subtlety away. The building was eerie in the darkness. It was almost like all of its windows were eyes, watching Nadine as she drew closer.

I'm armed, she reminded herself, feeling the knife against her skin. And I'm dangerous.

Although Nadine and Diego were quick to make their way to the glass doors that would give them entry, Five was only halfway there when he halted. Nadine turned back to him, her brows furrowing at his sudden reluctance. This wasn't like him. Typically, he'd already be at the door, snapping at her to pick up the pace.

"Five?" Nadine prompted, cocking her head at him. "You okay?"

Five shook his head, snapping back into focus. "Yeah, fine," he said, then followed after them. "Just..."

Diego unsheathed a knife. "How long's it been since you've seen the old man?" he asked, kneeling down to attempt to pick the lock.

"Forty-five years."

"That's a trip."

"No kidding." Five leaned against the wall. "You know, when I was stuck out there in the apocalypse, there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't hear his voice in my head."

"What was he saying?" Diego asked.

"'I told you so.'"

Nadine wanted to say something, to let Five know that it hadn't been his fault he'd gotten suck—he'd been an immature teenager with too much power in his hands, and had never really learned to reign it in—but for once, she kept her mouth shut. Although she'd practically become an eighth member of the Umbrella Academy, there were still some things she hadn't been a part of. The childhood with Reginald Hargreeves was one such thing.

Fortunately, it seemed Diego knew what to say. "Well, if Dad's here, he's never met you before, so he can't say 'I told you so.'"

Five scoffed. "I'm sure he'll find a way."

Then he spatial jumped, teleporting to the other side of the doors Diego had so much trouble picking the locks of. Nadine jumped. In the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten Five could do that.

Five pushed open the door, allowing his teammates entrance. Diego got to his feet. "Right," he said. "Gotta remember that."

"No kidding," Nadine murmured.

The three of them entered the cool company building, hearts in their throats. Inside, it was drafty and dark, and Nadine took out her own knife as she walked further in. The darkness made her uncomfortable, like any moment something would lurch out of the shadows.

There was a click as Five turned a lamp on. Nadine turned to it gratefully, gravitating towards it like a moth. But as soon as Five let go of the button, the lamp turned off, submerging them once more in darkness.

"Shit," said Five.

"Guess Dad wasn't much for home décor," said Diego.

"Seriously," Nadine agreed. "This place is a shithole."

"It feels more like a front," said Five. He ran his finger along the table, picking up dust.

"A front for what?" Diego asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, I'll take the left," said Diego, referring to the fork in the road. Ahead of the group were two doors—one to the left, and one to the right. This meant that, if they were to investigate the area fully, they'd have to split up. Diego seemed to have already discerned it was he who would be going alone, as he said, "You two take the right. Yell if you, uh... get in trouble."

Before Nadine could complain at being saddled with Five, Diego had already gone through the left door, letting it close behind him. She breathed out an annoyed sigh, and tried not to cough on the overwhelming amount of dust that had settled in the room.

Five didn't seem so happy with the arrangement, either. "Let's go, then," he said eventually, pulling open the door on the right. Then, sarcastically, he stepped aside, sweeping an arm forward to allow her entrance first.

Nadine raised a particular finger at him and walked inside.

She found herself in a long, dark hallway. It was tight, tight enough that they practically had to walk single-file, and densely packed, with multiple rooms on both sides. Immediately, shivers went down Nadine's spine. The walls seemed to press in on her.

To shake off her trepidation, Nadine busied herself with trying to open the first door on the left. A quick jiggle of the doorknob revealed it was locked.

She was about to slide a pin from her hair in an attempt to pick it when Five pushed open the door on the right. Unlike her door, the one Five tried opened without resistance. Nadine immediately followed after him, too curious about its contents to continue trying that first door.

Before entering, Five flipped on a light switch. With excruciating slowness, the room's lights flickered on. And when they finally illuminated the scene, Nadine found herself staring at an incredibly bizarre scene.

Three mannequins were positioned around a coffee table, arranged so they were sitting like real people. The first one was made to resemble a man, with a white suit, a crisp tie, and neat brown hair. The second was a woman, with perfect pale-blonde curls and a blue-spotted skirt. One of its arms was around the third mannequin; a child wearing a red dress. It was the epitome of a family in the 1960s, the nuclear family structure that was thought to be the ideal even in 2019.

Nadine finally looked away from the mannequins to take in the rest of the room. Behind them was a false window; a wall painted to look like a view of the suburbs. There was a white picket fence, perfectly trimmed hedges, and a row of quaint houses lining the street.

"Five," she whispered. "What the hell is this?"

"I don't... I don't know," Five admitted.

When Nadine took in the scene again, she noticed something she hadn't on her first look. Behind one of the charming painted houses was the mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion. The power from the blast hadn't quite hit this sea of suburbia yet, but it was only a matter of time. Soon—in seconds, perhaps—this perfect family would cease to be.

Nuclear family, she realized. The pun may have just been a coincidence, but Nadine had a feeling it wasn't. Whatever Reginald had done here seemed very deliberate, down to the angle of the mother mannequin's arm around its daughter to the settle of the tie on the father mannequin's chest. But it made absolutely no sense.

Before she could attempt to venture further in, the lights shut off, surrounding Nadine and Five in darkness once again. Feeling as if those dead mannequin eyes were somehow fixed upon her, boring into her very soul, Nadine stumbled out of the room. Five was quick to follow.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Five headed further down the hallway, aiming to explore the rest of the rooms. Nadine stayed at the locked one. "You go ahead," she said, sliding all of the pins from her hair. "Take a look at the other rooms. I'll be here."

Five was skeptical only for a moment. Then, he nodded, taking off to the next door down. Nadine wasn't sure if she should be flattered or insulted by that reaction—either he believed he could take care of herself, or he didn't really care if she got into trouble. Knowing him, though, it was the latter. Nadine supposed that now that she wasn't meant to save the world, she'd lost her value to him.

She didn't dwell on it for too long, though. Instead, she crouched by the door, shaping her pin into an L. This was her tension wrench, and her other pin—which she'd straightened—was the pick itself. It had actually been Diego who'd inspired her to learn it—after he'd picked the lock for the Meritech van, Nadine had realized how many uses the skill had. So, although it had taken her a little bit of practice, she'd managed to eventually master it.

With her ear to the door and her eyes narrowed in focus, it only took her a minute to pry open the lock. There was a telltale click as the door was opened, and anticipation shivered through her. Clutching her knife with white-knuckled hands, Nadine entered the previously locked room.

Like the other rooms, this one was also pitch-black. Fortunately, though, there was a light switch on the wall by the door, which Nadine's hand groped to. Her ears strained for any rustling or breathing—really, any sign someone or something was in the room with her. When she heard only her own pulse in her ears, she flipped on the light.

Her eyes immediately widened.

It was a small room—more of a closet, really, smaller than even the janitor's closet she'd caught up with Five in. It was so dusty it caused her throat to itch, and smelled like mothballs.

By far the strangest part of the room, however, was the new set of mannequins. These ones were positioned in a line, shoulder-to-shoulder, standing instead of sitting. But they weren't designed to look like members of a nuclear family. No. These mannequins resembled someone else.

Each mannequin had a mask on. These weren't ones you'd wear to a masquerade all or to perform surgery, however. These were rubber masks, fitted completely over the face, like something a child might wear on Halloween. They were far higher quality than Party City masks, however. Every pore, every wrinkle, and every blemish of these masks were as clear and realistic as the actual face. His face.

Reginald Hargreeves.

Nadine's lips parted in an astonished gape. The nuclear family mannequins had been peculiar enough, but this was a whole different level. What was Reginald Hargreeves doing with so many replicas of his face? Why had he arranged them like this, like sentinels, all of them in crisp suits, like the real man had worn? Why had he decided to make them so hauntingly lifelike?

She moved closer, aiming to investigate these masks further, but before she could, two things happened. One: the lights shuddered off again. And two: a screech, a strangled yell, and a shattering of glass could be heard from further down the hallway.

Five.

"Shit!" Nadine closed the door behind her, flying down the hall. "Five!" she shouted, not bothering to be quiet. That ship had sailed. Something had happened to Five, and he was almost certainly in danger.

"Diego!" his voice rang out from one of the rooms near the end of the hallway. "Nadine!"

Nadine made a beeline for it. She was running so fast, in fact, that she nearly crashed into Five himself. He'd staggered out of the room, one hand clutching his neck. Even in the dim light, Nadine could see blood beneath his fingers.

"Five, holy shit," she said. Using her knife, she cut away a section of her skirt (It was likely Molly would kill her when she got home, but it didn't matter. Nothing did, except for the blood coursing from Five's neck and the fact that something had obviously gone completely and horribly wrong.) and moved Five's fingers aside to press it against his wounds. They were claw marks, stretching up to the ridges of his jaw, and although they weren't deep, they were bleeding heavily.

Dizziness swept over her, but she had no time to feel faint. She instead guided Five's hands back up to the fabric, where he pressed on it, staunching the blood flow. "Holy shit," she said again, after he had situated himself. He'd have to get medical attention—or, at the very least, some bandages. "What happened?"

"It was—it was Pogo," said Five. "Not the Pogo we knew. He was a baby."

"Pogo attacked you?" Nadine asked incredulously. She remembered Pogo from her brief stay at The Umbrella Academy. He'd been old, frail. He'd always kept one trembling paw over the head of a cane, helping him walk. Nadine had once thought that he'd be easy to get through, if the need arose.

He had died the day the Umbrella Academy had fallen. But of course, he was alive now—they were in the past. And apparently, a baby Pogo was a lot more vicious than an adult one.

"Yes," said Five impatiently. "But that doesn't matter. We need to get out of here."

"What about Diego?" Nadine asked. "Where is he?"

"He'll meet us back at Elliott's," said Five. The fabric he was holding to his neck was slowly turning red. "Now, come on, we have to go. There's something going on here, something I don't like. We can try to find my father later. Right now, our best option is to leave."

"Okay," said Nadine. "Let's go, then."

With a haphazard glance down the hallway, as if Diego might suddenly materialize, Nadine took off, following Five as the two of them retraced their steps to the front of the building. Bursting through the front door like there was an enemy on their tails—as there may very well have been—the two of them fled the building and the potential dangers within it.

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HAVEN: word of advice, nadine: never go along with anything five says. now you're leaving diego alone to get stabbed and are DEFINITELY going to feel guilty later. 

anyway, we're finally jumping into the plot with two feet! i decided to add a little bit of ~foreshadowing~ with the masks in reggie's closet, solely because the scene where we find out he's an alien is completely iconic and utterly bizarre. i honestly love the framing of it, though—how they focus on the mask as, in the background, you can hear the screams of all of the members of the majestic twelve being torn apart. it's completely bone-chilling.

i hoped you enjoyed this chapter!! next chapter, we are getting an iconic scene that involves a flying burrito and a bonding session with lila! two components of a superior book, if you ask me 😌

thanks for reading <3333