CHAPTER THIRTEEN
valley of the dolls

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TOO MANY STORIES start with once upon a time. Here's another one.

Once upon a time, there was a little doll who lived in Dijon, France. She was nearly flawless, with long, golden hair, eyes the colour of the ocean at rest, a painted-on smile that warmed you up inside. But there was still a flaw to her manufacturing. If you looked too closely into her eyes, you could see it—there was a darkness there, dark and deep, as if the ocean had been caught in a fierce storm. If you lifted her delicate hands, you found they were actually callused, marked by violence. Knuckles split open like flowers in bloom, and blood dripped in the soft spaces between her fingers. They were rough, almost like sandpaper—something a doll's hands shouldn't be. This little doll was one you wanted to keep in the box.

Once upon a time, the little doll grew up, which real dolls, of course, don't do. She accumulated more scars—above her eyebrow, on her cheek, on her bicep, on her shoulder—until she stopped resembling a doll at all. At least, a doll that any sane person would buy. But it didn't matter, because perhaps the doll didn't want to be a doll. Perhaps she wasn't interested in sitting on dusty shelves and being forgotten. She wanted to live, to breathe, to be someone, even if she didn't quite know who that someone was yet.

Once upon a time, the doll got her wish, but only temporarily. She almost managed to convince herself she wasn't a flawed model. But then she got herself caught in the spiderweb of a plot too dangerous for her, and like a fly, she couldn't wriggle out of it. The little doll—the broken doll—returned. Her eyes reverted back to those swollen black holes. Her hands—those delicate hands—were soaked in blood.

You ought to have guessed by now who the doll was. But if you haven't, here's another hint: she was currently stumbling through the streets of Dallas, Texas, 1963, looking as if she'd been in a butcher shop.

Nadine tried not to think of the blood clinging to her—which, of course, made sure it was the only thing she could think of. It slid over her knuckles, settling into the cracks of her palms. It sunk into the front of her dress, darkening the pink fabric. Flecks of it clung to her face.

There was a difference, she was finding out now, between a fight for your life and a quest for vengeance. It should've been obvious, but it wasn't. When Nadine had been fighting Hazel and Cha-Cha at the Umbrella Academy, or the masked gunmen in the bowling alley, she'd been thinking of nothing but survival. Adrenaline had coursed through her bloodstream, keeping her on her feet, always moving, always alive.

Pinning down someone with the weight of your body and beating them until they fell unconscious was a whole different story.

The funny thing was that Nadine didn't regret it. She didn't regret crumbling the cartilage on the police officer's nose, or knocking out his tooth, or swelling both eyes into a puffy mess. Because it wasn't like he'd been innocent. Nadine wasn't stupid. It was obvious what he was trying to do. He was an attempted rapist, and he deserved what he'd got.

But just because Nadine didn't regret her brutality didn't mean she was proud of it, either. She'd already unleashed such a heavy weight into Molly, and now she was going to come home, covered in blood, and tell her that she'd just turned a man's face into an abstract painting of gore. It was just like with the King Cobra, all of those years ago. Though that time, she hadn't actually hurt Luis Allemand. She'd just frightened him enough that he'd wet his pants and ignored her at school.

Maybe she should just be glad Molly hadn't seen the attack.

Yet again, she found herself on the porch of her home. This time, though, she did not wait before moving towards the door. The entire walk home, she'd braced herself, hardening her muscles in preparation for Molly's inevitable rejection. Because of course, she'd reject her. Everyone always did.

Her hand twisted the doorknob. The door came open under her touch.

Molly, who was sitting on the couch, stood up.

"Nadine?" her voice came out in a breathless whisper. "Are you—is that blood?"

Nadine slowly stepped inside, and let the door swing shut behind her. "Yes," she said. Her own voice was unsteady, wobbling like a trinket placed on an improperly built shelf. "It's not mine," she added, if that made it any better.

"What? Nadine, what happened? Oh Lord... was it those men you told me about? The Swedish assassins?"

"No." Nadine removed her shoes. The blood clung to her skin like glue. Though when it had been spat on her face, it felt more like syrup, or molasses. "It was—well, I was walking, and..." her voice trailed off. "There was a man—a police officer—in an alleyway, and he was... he was shoving a woman against the wall, and she was... she was fighting him, but his hands..."

It wasn't exactly the best explanation, but Molly seemed to understand it. A hand came to her mouth, and she moved towards Nadine immediately. "Your hands," she said, watching as Nadine pulled on her slippers. "You... you took him out, didn't you? You saved the woman?"

"I did," said Nadine. "I didn't even have to use my powers. I was just—I was so angry, and I wanted to make him hurt."

She hadn't killed him, though a piece of her had wanted to. It was the same part that had initially gone feral, that had moved her feet before her mind had even caught up to the situation at hand. It was the part that had just kept hitting him, even when he'd fallen unconscious and the threat had clearly been averted. But she'd stopped herself at the last moment. Had jolted back into her senses. Then she'd picked herself off of him and ran away.

"That pig deserved it." Molly's words were venomous, deadly. It was so unlike her that Nadine blinked. Molly usually kept her anger inside, hidden away in a locked box. But it seemed that today, she'd located the key. She'd unlocked the box, and let it all flood out.

"Molls?" Nadine asked tentatively. The clotted blood on her face was too much to ignore, so she made her way over to the sink. With shaky hands, she turned on the faucet and let the water gush out.

"I'm not joking," said Molly. "You saved a woman, Nadine. You... you hurt the man who was attempting to rape her. I know I couldn't have done that, but I'm glad you did. Because he deserved it."

Her chest was heaving, her face bleached pale in the sickly front hallway lighting. Nadine noticed now that she was clutching a tote bag.

"Is everything all right?" she asked gently, continuing to scour the blood from her skin. Then she pulled a face. "Shit. Sorry. Stupid question. I mean... euh... how are you feeling?"

"I want to come with you," said Molly. Her face was screwed up into an expression Nadine had never seen on her before. "I want to come to Elliott's."

As the water in the sink ran pink, Nadine jolted. "You want to... you want to come?"

"Yes," said Molly. She clutched her bag closer to her chest. "Look, I wasn't sure if I could believe you at first, even with all the proof you gave me. I guess I didn't want to believe you. But then I... then I thought about it, and, well, I realized being in denial would get me nowhere. The world is still coming to an end, even if I plug my ears and pretend it won't. So... I've decided that if you're going to save the world, I want to help you. I'd rather die trying than die without lifting a finger."

She stepped closer. Her eyes were rimmed with red. "And Nadine... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you've never found someone who appreciated you for who you are. I'm so sorry you've had to hide parts of yourself because you thought no one would accept you as a whole. And I'm so, so sorry that I ever made you think that I would leave you, too. Because... I won't. I... I love you, Nadine Vidal. I love everything about you."

Nadine's heart stuttered. She shut off the water. "You... you mean it?" she asked hesitantly. "Even though I've just come home covered in blood?"

"Yes," said Molly. "I love you, Nadine. I love that you can create illusions with your mind. I love that you're from the future. I love that you're gay, and unabashedly so. I love that you put men in their place when they deserve it. I love that you'd do anything to save the world. I love you, even the messy parts. Because we all have messy parts, Nadine. Including me."

Nadine dried her hands, then stepped forward. Her heart was beating erratically, and she wanted to weep in happiness, but there was still something she needed to establish first. "Saving the world is going to be dangerous," she said. "You might get hurt."

"That's okay," said Molly. "I mean, the thought is terrifying, but not as terrifying as the thought of the world ending."

It may be okay to you, but it's not to me. But how much of a hypocrite would Nadine be if she forbid Molly to come with her? Molly was an adult. She could make her own decisions. And she'd... she'd decided to come with Nadine. She'd learned everything, and she was still willing.

She stepped even closer to her girlfriend, chest burning with all the love it carried for her. "You're amazing, you know that? You're the most wonderful person I have ever known."

"I know," said Molly, with a cheeky grin. She reached out and slid a thumb against Nadine's scrubbed skin. "I hope you know that you are, too."

Nadine swallowed. There was no one in the world, she thought, that could make her feel what Molly did. "Can I kiss you?" she asked.

Molly nodded.

Nadine took Molly's face in her hands and kissed her once more. It wasn't a sweet kiss, not tonight. Not with Nadine's knuckles popped open and her hair a mess and the piercing memory of what she'd done—her fists against his flesh, a gun against his temple—still thudding through her mind. It was a rough kiss, a sad kiss, a kiss that tasted like the salt of tears and the metallic tang that wasn't time travel, but blood.

Once upon a time, the doll realized she was a flawed model, and that was okay. Because at least she had one woman who would always accept her for what she was. A woman who loved her despite the blood on her hands and the black holes in her eyes. Once upon a time, the doll kissed her, and hoped that their story wouldn't end in fire.

MORNING CAME QUICKLY. Despite everything that had happened the previous night, Nadine actually managed to get a decent amount of sleep—though that was very likely due to the fact that she'd spent the early morning hours with her arms around Molly, breathing in sync with her. This was a routine they'd done nearly every night since they'd first got together, but tonight, it was different. Nadine had finally told Molly the truth. And instead of running away, Molly had stayed. No matter how batshit crazy everything was.

The two of them woke up at the same time, which was a first. Nadine was so bone-deep exhausted that she'd slept right through her alarm, skipping her early-morning run. Her entire body was stiff, and when she looked down at her sore knuckles, she found they were beginning to darken into blue. The evidence of what she'd done stared back at her, visible and glaring, and she hissed in a breath through clenched teeth.

Molly saw where she was looking and reached out. Her hand went over Nadine's, covering the ugly bruises. "It's all right, Nads," she said gently. "You did what you had to do."."

"I know," said Nadine, but her voice was hollow. Although her dreams had mercifully free of the graphic event that had taken place last night, it was all beginning to leak back to her now. Her heart pinched whenever she thought of the woman she'd rescued, and how much more women like her were around the city, around the world. So many women, suffering in silence, crushed beneath the hands of men.

She was going to save the world, and that should've been enough. But at that moment, Nadine wasn't sure if it was.

She got dressed with Molly, though today didn't bother to keep up appearances. She didn't curl her hair. Didn't put on a full face of makeup, either; just touched up the dark circles around her eyes and brightened her cheeks. Nor did she even bother to wear a dress—instead, she pulled on a pair of mustard-yellow pants and a pink striped shirt. Perhaps it would've been less conspicuous to dress more in the fashion of women in 1963, but Nadine knew practicality was important, too. With the Swedes potentially coming after her, she could find herself in a fight at any minute. She'd done enough fighting in dresses to know that it was fucking inconvenient.

"How much should we pack?" Molly asked. Despite Nadine's warnings, she was still wearing a light-purple dress; probably unused to dressing any other way. There was a suitcase open on their (still unmade) bed, and Molly was rifling through the drawers, searching for clothes to fill it with. Her hair was twisted back into an immaculate bun. "For a couple days, or..."

"A week's worth," said Nadine, though even she was unsure. Would Elliott even want them to stay there? She hadn't exactly asked permission... but then again, neither had Five, Diego, and Lila. "I mean, that's as long as we've got until..."

She let herself trail off, but the meaning was clear. In six days, if they didn't succeed, the world would end. They would have no use for clothes then.

Molly nodded, and Nadine helped her pick through their collection, extracting and packing everything they'd need for their stay. Then Molly ambled off to call her boss and tell him she wasn't coming in, and Nadine added a few magazines to the suitcase and slid her cellphone into her pocket. Once she was finished, she made the bed, wheeled the suitcase into the living room, and met up with Molly again. She gave her girlfriend a tired smile.

"You know, they're probably going to love you, there. A good cook is just what we need. Yesterday, Lila and I had peanut butter and jam sandwiches for breakfast because we didn't want to go near the stove. We're hopeless."

Molly nodded, but Nadine could tell she was anxious. Biting on her thumbnail, she asked, "You'll have to remind me who everyone is. Who's going to be there?"

Nadine tapped her fingers on her leg as she answered. "Well, there's Five, who you know as Fred. He's the asshole fifty-eight-year-old man stuck in the body of a thirteen-year-old I've told you about. There's nothing else to say about him other than he pretty much hates my guts. Then there's Diego, one of Five's brothers. He's an asshole, too, but we've sort of put a pause on our rivalry. He also happened to have gotten stabbed two days ago, so he's still healing from that. Then there's Lila, Diego's fellow sanitorium patient, Elliott, the owner of the house who thinks I'm an alien—long story—and Luther, who..." she trailed off again, pursing her lips. "Shit. It is going to be very awkward talking to him again."

"You didn't speak last night?" asked Molly. Nadine had told her every bit of her day yesterday, including the part where she'd gone to watch Luther participate in legal fighting and get the shit kicked out of him.

"No, he was too out of it. Vanya and Five helped him head back, I think, but I needed to head home."

"Lord have mercy," muttered Molly. Then, after a beat, she looked up, taking Nadine's hand. "Well, it's all right. I'll be there for you, if you need me."

The corners of Nadine's lips turned up. "Thanks, Molls," she said. "Anyway, the last person that should be there is Vanya."

"Vanya..." Molly obviously recalled two undeniable facts about Vanya: that it had been her that had ended the world the first time, and that Nadine had started to develop feelings for her. But although she was clearly thinking about both of those things, she didn't bring either of them up. Instead, she just asked, "She's got amnesia, right?"

"Yes," said Nadine. She was grateful Molly hadn't touched on the obvious.

"Well, then, I suppose we're ready to go," said Molly. "Unless you want to eat before we leave?"

Nadine waved her off. "We can eat at Elliott's," she said. "He's weird, but he's probably at least got some eggs or something."

"All right," said Molly. "I'll pack the onigiri for lunch, though. Hey, d'you think the potato leek soup would taste good warmed up?"

"Maybe," said Nadine. "We can bring that, as well. You've only made enough onigiri for two people, and I bet we'll have a whole house to feed."

"Got it," said Molly. The two of them packed their respective containers into Molly's tote bag, and then, after exchanging a final kiss, set out into the late morning. Nadine's heart thudded as she did so. Although it was relatively barren out here, she was still paranoid that one of their neighbours had seen her come back bloodstained last night. What if they told the police? What if they put two and two together and figured out that it had been Nadine who had beat the officer into a pulp and left him to bleed in the alleyway?

There was an old woman perched in a rocking chair across the street, and a man walking his dog. Neither of them even glanced at Nadine and Molly as they slid into the car. Nadine took in a deep breath. She was fine. She was going to be fine.

The ride to Elliott's was mercifully short. When they arrived, Nadine slid out of the front seat, lugging her suitcase behind her. Then, with another deep breath, she headed inside.

Instead of Elliott, Five was the one to greet Nadine at the top of the stairs today. He was pacing madly, chugging down a mug of coffee as if it was water. Nadine watched him with some trepidation. Had something happened? Or was Five just being his regular manic self?

It didn't take long before she got her answer. At the sound of her and Molly's footsteps on the stairs, Five set down his mug and turned to them. A crease had appeared between his eyebrows, and there was a clear frustration etched upon his face. His fists twitched in annoyance as he met Nadine's eyes.

"Who's this?" he asked, at the same time Nadine asked, "What happened?"

Despite her sick curiosity, Nadine answered his question first. "This is Molly," she said. "Don't you recognize her from the tape?"

Molly shifted uncomfortably. Nadine got the sense that she'd been trying to process so many things in the past eighteen hours that she'd forgotten about the Frankel Footage.

"I do," said Five, clenching his jaw. "But why is she here?"

"She's going to help," said Nadine. "I... I told her everything."

"For fuck's sake." Five sank down onto a sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First my braindead siblings abandon the Umbrella Academy to wallow in their own self-pity, and now this?"

"What, did you think I wasn't going to tell her?" Nadine snapped. And then: "What do you mean, your siblings abandoned you?"

"Vanya and Luther both pigeon-holed our mission," Five explained. "It happened earlier this morning."

"Wait, what? Vanya left?" Nadine wasn't as worried about Luther. "So we're right back to where we started?"

"Well, considering you've brought your girlfriend in, not exactly," said Five. Molly blanched at both the comment and the casual way he said it. "What were you thinking, telling her the truth?"

"She deserved to know," Nadine growled. "And now, she wants to help. She can be valuable, Five."

"I'm not exactly a fighter, but whatever else you might need, I'm your woman," Molly piped up, evidently sick of being talked about like she wasn't there. "I bet I can at least make better coffee than whatever options are available here."

Five rolled his eyes. "Somehow, I doubt it. But, whatever. She's here now. I suppose there's nothing I can do."

"Thank you," said Nadine.

Before any of them could say anything further, the door to Elliott's room opened and Diego and Lila stepped out. Diego, still unsteady on his feet, leaned against Lila for support. Lila, who was wearing the same outfit she'd been in for the past few days (it was likely she didn't have a change of clothes, considering where she'd come from. Fortunately, though, Nadine and Molly had a whole suitcase full of outfits to lend), raised her hand in a wave when she noticed Nadine and Molly.

Eventually, they all managed to get settled—Diego and Lila on the couch, the latter changing the former's bandages; Five pacing behind them, apparently too buzzed with caffeine to even sit down; Nadine lounging on the sofa, trying to hide the marks of her violence from last night; and Molly in the kitchen, already preparing fried eggs on toast. She hadn't been asked to do so, but it was evident she felt awkward with all of those new eyes locked on her, and had jumped at the chance to make a good first impression. Once they were all situated, Five reiterated what had happened with Vanya and Luther to Lila and Diego.

"So, what, you just let her go?" Diego asked. Lila peeled the bandage from the stab wound on his belly. It was pink now, a sign it was healing. Nadine was glad. Guilt still squirmed inside her for leaving him at his father's company building, especially when she realized it could've ended a lot worse for him. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She'd already apologized to Diego, and he'd already accepted it, but she still felt terrible.

"Well, Vanya had a lot to process," said Five. He breathed out a sigh. "She'll come around. I know she will."

"What about the guys who went after her?"

"The Swedes?"

"Yeah, I mean, how do you know they won't go after her again?"

As he spoke, Elliott stepped into the room, carrying steaming mugs of coffee. Nadine assumed he'd already met Molly, as he looked slightly baffled when he handed them their cups. Nadine took hers with a grateful nod and brought it to her lips. Shit. It really was good. Five hadn't been lying when he'd said he doubted Molly could be better.

"We don't," Five said, in response to Diego.

"Any idea who sent them?" Lila asked.

Five gave her a tight grin and reached for his mug. Nadine wondered if it was possible for someone to overdose on caffeine as he said, "Oh, I have my suspicions. But, right now, our priority is finding Dad and getting answers, 'cause everything else depends on it." He sank down into the chair opposite Nadine when he finished, punctuating his point.

"Which, for the record, I found him already," Diego pointed out.

Five continued his fake smile. "And then let him go before you could have a meaningful conversation."

"He stabbed me."

"I'm surprised he's waited this long, Diego. We've all had the urge."

Even Nadine managed a smile at that while Lila burst into laughter. "Good one," she said, holding out her hand for a high-five. Five didn't return the gesture, however. Instead, he just stared at her blankly.

Nadine scrunched her nose at his hostility. In order to not leave Lila hanging, she reached out and slapped palms with her. The other woman grinned.

Five just clicked his tongue. "Good thing I know where Dad's gonna be tonight."

Nadine set down her coffee. "Holy shit, really?"

"Yep." Five reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Diego, who was closest. Nadine got up from her seat to read over his shoulder, and when she did, she found that it was an invitation; engraved and printed in fancy lettering.

"Where'd you get this?" Diego asked.

"Found it in his office when he was busy stabbing you," said Five. Nadine assumed it was when the two of them had been split up, and she'd discovered those eerily accurate masks in the locked closet door.

"Ha-ha," drawled Diego dryly. Nadine leaned forward further, reading the contents of the invitation aloud.

"Hoyt Hillenkoetter—" here, Nadine stumbled slightly over the name, "—and the Consulate General of Mexico in Dallas cordially invite you to a gala." The date printed below was today, November 18th, 1963. Underneath that was the location, and more information about the event.

"Whoa, wait," injected Elliott. "Hoyt Hillenkoetter?" He pronounced the last name differently from Nadine, but it sounded more correct, so she didn't comment. "Are you serious?"

"You know him?" asked Five, at the same time Lila gasped.

"We should go," she said. "Says there's gonna be a seafood tower."

"No," Elliott responded, "Hillenkoetter is... is one of the Majestic Twelve."

"The hell is the Majestic Twelve?" Diego asked. Nadine had the same question.

"You don't know what the Majestic Twelve is?" A new voice entered their conversation, light and lilting. It was, of course, Molly, heading towards them with a tray in her hands. On it balanced enough food to feed a small country.

Nadine stood up to help her distribute the plates to each member of the group. "I've never heard of it," she admitted.

"It's a... a secret committee," Elliott explained. Molly had made a plate for him, too, which he took gratefully as he spoke. "Uh, scientists, military, uh, deep state." Plate still in hand, he bustled to his desk and shuffled through the papers littering it. "No one knows what they really do."

"Wait, so they're government?" Diego asked, wincing as he tried to maneuver himself forward.

"Shadow government," Molly corrected. Elliott nodded at her, now searching through his cabinets.

"Yeah, Kennedy was the first president to try and push 'em into the light, but these guys are not to be trifled with. Oh! Oh, here we go. Ah, right here." He emerged from his desk with a photograph in hand. Hurrying over to the coffee table, he laid it out for all of them to see. Even Molly seemed invested now, though she obviously knew who the Majestic Twelve were.

The black-and-white photograph showed a picture of a group of men—all of whom were old and white—sitting around a table. Elliott tapped a finger on the man closest to the camera. "That's Hoyt right there."

"Of course they're all old, white men," Nadine grumbled. "I bet they're rich, too."

"Of course they are," said Molly.

Lila took a sip of her coffee and then pointed out something Nadine had missed. "I only count eleven."

Nadine scanned the picture again. She was right.

"Well, that's because they've only identified eleven so far," said Elliott.

Molly nodded. "The last member's always been a mystery."

"Holy shit," said Nadine, a revelation sparking in her mind. "I don't think it is anymore."

"What?" Diego asked. A second passed, and then his eyebrows lifted. "Oh."

"What?" Molly asked. "Who is it?"

"Our father." Diego sat down heavily. "Jesus."

Elliott's face blanched. Molly chewed on her thumbnail again. Even Five seemed a little out of sorts.

"Well," said Five, after a second, "I suppose we're going to a gala."

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HAVEN: i don't have much to say except that a) i apologize for the last chapter being so dark, and b) yes it will unfortunately play into the plot later. i tried to write it with appropriate sensitivity, but if you ever think i might have crossed a line, then please let me know. i am definitely willing to learn and change.

on a much brighter note, molly's a bigger part of the plot now!! psh, you really thought she was going to hate nadine? she's too amazing of a gf to do that!! she is actually the best gf in the world actually.

finally, i found this meme again, and honestly, it perfectly represents nadine and molly's dynamic:

UGH i love them sm

thanks for reading!! <3333