CHAPTER SIXTEEN
out of this world

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WHEN NADINE WAS younger, it used to be her father who would tend her wounds. He would wrap her scabbed hands in bandages, hold bags of frozen peas to her black eyes, hand her tissues to hold to bloody noses. Nadine didn't look at him when he did this. She didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes, an expression that told her he was getting to the end of his rope. She didn't want to look into his eyes and read his thoughts within their pools: Other daughters don't get suspended every other week. Other daughters don't come home with bruised limbs and bloodied lips. Other daughters are well-behaved, well-mannered, smart. Other daughters don't have superpowers they can barely control.

Maybe he wasn't thinking that, but Nadine feared he was, so much so that she always avoided eye contact. She just let him patch her up, stroke her hair, and tell her she reminded him of a volcano. It was always a volcano, though for a good reason. It was an apt comparison; just like a volcano, Nadine was also bubbling full of magma. Just like a volcano, that magma sometimes exploded, bursting out in a torrent of hellfire that rained down on whoever was closest. Nadine had never figured out if she was born with this heat boiling inside of her, or if her less-than-ideal childhood put it there. All she knew was that she couldn't remember a time without it. A time when her skin wasn't on fire.

Now, Nadine was approximately thirty-one years old (she couldn't say for sure—when you've time travelled, you begin to question when your birthday really is), and still full of the same flame. But it wasn't her Papa that patched her up this time (though a part of her kind of wished it was. Two years had gone by without him, and Nadine still hadn't gotten to apologize). Tonight, it was Molly Hamasaki, who was just as gentle.

There was a bandage pasted to her bruised cheek, stemming the flow of blood from the brass knuckles. She held up Nadine's wrist with one hand and cleaned it using a wet cloth with the other. Her eyes were distant as she worked. Nadine knew where she was. She was in the Consulate, gripping the Swede's arm and getting a fist in her face as a reward. She was replaying it, trying to figure out what she should've done to avoid it. Cycling through it again and again as if she could somehow change things.

Nadine knew this because that was exactly what she used to. A film in her head, constantly being rewound, viewing her shooting again and again and again.

Her therapist had told her it wouldn't help. It would only lead to her being stuck in the past unable to escape. Nadine had told him to fuck off.

He was right, though. It hadn't helped. Nadine had become obsessed, convinced that the shooting was her fault. She'd believed that if she hadn't been so stupid, she could've prevented the whole mess. She wouldn't be a traumatized woman plagued with a never-ending surge of nightmares—perhaps she'd even have been happy. Perhaps she wouldn't have had to drop out of university just as she was finishing her degree and be forced to work at La Petite Montagne.

It was an extremely unhealthy pattern. It had taken years before Nadine had managed to break out of it.

Now, her heart squeezed. She didn't want Molly to follow in her footsteps, even if the world was ending. She knew it would be too much to ask Molly to be happy, but she wanted her girlfriend to be mentally stable at the very least. Not trapped in the memories of the trauma she'd suffered through.

"Molls," she said aloud. "Where are you right now?"

Molly blinked blearily, as if she was resurfacing from a dream. Nadine noticed her hands were shaking.

"I keep seeing it," she breathed. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "All of it. Coming... coming upstairs and seeing that man choke Diego, seeing the other one fight you. I keep seeing you hovering over me, blood dripping from your nose, more worried about me than of your own safety. And I keep... I keep feeling the first hit, feeling those brass knuckles cut into my skin, feeling them pounding against my bones. I mean... you told me it was going to be dangerous, and I thought I knew what I was getting into. But I didn't expect this. I didn't think of how scary it would be. I didn't think it would remind me so much of—" she cut herself off, lips clamping shut. Tears slid down her cheeks. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this, Nads."

"That's okay, Molly," said Nadine, reaching out to tuck a lock of Molly's matted hair behind her ear. "You don't have to be. If you want to go home, I completely understand."

They hadn't yet had showers or gotten changed. They hadn't done anything but burst into Elliott's, ask if he had a first-aid kit, and make their way into his guest room to patch themselves up. Nadine had cleaned Molly's wound, patching the torn skin up with bandages. She'd wiped the blood from her own face and held an ice pack to her fractured (not broken) nose. She'd hugged Molly and tried not to cry, and then sat there as Molly ran a cloth under cool water and begin to wash her battered hands.

Diego and Five were injured, too; that much Nadine knew. Five had a nasty bruise forming on his chest from where one of the Swedes had kicked it. Diego had imprints of fingers on his neck, and a deep line below them from where the tie had cut in. Nadine also suspected his stab wound had reopened, as he'd come in for bandages ten minutes ago. But both of them, being the irritating men they were, had waved off Nadine and Molly's offers to help. They'd said they were fine and went their separate ways.

Nadine didn't know how anyone could be fine right now.

"I don't want to leave you," said Molly, taking in a shuddering breath. "I just... I wish that you didn't have to do this. I wish that we could both leave here, together, and go home and pretend that everything is normal."

"I can't, Molls," said Nadine gently. "You know that. I'm needed here."

"But what if you get hurt again?" A fresh torrent of tears spilled down Molly's cheeks. "We've already established I'm shit at protecting you. I didn't—you were being attacked, and I couldn't do anything for you. It took me one goddamned hit before I was out. And I hate it."

"You don't have to protect me," said Nadine. "I love you so, so much, Molls, but you don't have to protect me. You don't have to stay with me, either. If you really want to, you can leave. You can stay with Nicholas or your grandparents. And I'd miss you, but I'd understand. Seriously, I would."

Molly swallowed. "Can I kiss you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course," said Nadine. She leaned forward, locking lips with her girlfriend. It tasted like blood and tears. It tasted like the violence that had occurred just a few hours earlier.

When they finally broke apart, Molly picked up the washcloth again. "I'm not going to leave," she said. "Not just because I'd worry about you—but Lord knows that I would worry about you, probably to the point where I'd go mad—but because of what I said before. I don't want to sit back and wait for the world to end. I'm terrified, Nads, but I'm even more terrified of what it would say about me if I just pretended the apocalypse wasn't coming. I just... I don't know. I just want to try to help you however I can."

Nadine's heart was about to burst. She wondered how much love you could hold for a person before it exploded completely. Colette, Manon, Mirabelle, Camille... all of them seemed like mere cases of puppy love compared to what Nadine felt for Molly. Molly Hamasaki, who was beautiful and brilliant and bright. Molly Hamasaki, who was Nadine's Moon.

"I love you," she whispered. She was still in so much pain, and yet, Molly made her feel like everything was going to be all right. "I love you so fucking much, Molls."

"I love you, too," said Molly. She squeezed Nadine's hand. Nadine squeezed back.

And for once, instead of being utterly consumed by trauma and sadness, Nadine Vidal felt a hint of bliss burst through her. Bright, shining bliss. It was almost unfathomable, given the situation she was in. The world would end in six days. She'd just gotten the stuffing beat out of her. Vanya had left her behind.

And yet. And yet.

"Can I show you something?" she asked Molly suddenly. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. "You don't have to move."

Molly nuzzled her head onto Nadine's shoulder. "Okay. What is it?"

"Close your eyes," Nadine ordered. "No peeking."

Molly did, and when Nadine made sure they really were shut, she spread her fingers wide. With a crease of her brow, Nadine dipped into Molly's mind and crafted her illusion. It wasn't a butterfly or a flying burrito. It was a scene. A Sanctuary. One she'd been working on during these past few years.

With her forehead buzzing and her nose still tender, Nadine finished. The scene spread around, covering every inch of the room. Swallowing it all whole.

She only had to make a few small tweaks before she was satisfied. "All right," she said. "You can open your eyes, Molls."

When Molly obliged her, she immediately let out a sharp gasp. Her eyes darted around the display Nadine had created, pure shock and wonder glimmering in her eyes. Nadine smiled. It was a little like how she'd felt when she'd realized she had this ability.

To Molly, it was as if they'd been teleported out of the room. For replacing every aspect of the bedroom—from the bed to the wardrobe to the bedside table—was an unending sea of black. It spread out wider than they comprehend, undeterred by what used to have been walls. Trillions and trillions of light-years, broken up only by stars, scattering the dark like holes poked into a jar. Well, stars and a small, glowing white ball.

They'd left the world behind. Left 1963 and the apocalypse and everything that might bring them pain on the curb. They'd cast off into outer space without any need for suits or helmets. And there, they floated.

"What—what is this?" Molly asked, gripping Nadine's hands. "Nads—where are we? What did you do?"

"I call them my Sanctuaries," Nadine explained. "It's just an illusion, like the Moon I showed you. I figured out that I could do this years ago. It's really helped me get through the past thirteen years."

"This is amazing," gasped Molly, her eyes sparkling with amazement. "It's all an illusion?"

Nadine nodded. "I've gotten better at them. You used to be able to tell it wasn't real. But I suppose this one's easy."

"Nads, you're... you're incredible." Molly laughed, tinkling and beautiful. "Seriously."

Nadine couldn't stop smiling. "Look," she said, pointing toward the orb she'd created. "I made another Moon for you."

Molly grasped the charm on her necklace. "It's perfect."

Nadine touched her forehead to her girlfriend's. "You are my Moon, Molly Hamasaki," she breathed. "You always have been. I hope... I hope I can be your Sun."

Molly leaned in and cupped Nadine's cheek. "Always, Nadine Vidal," she whispered. "You will always be my Sun. No matter what."

EVENTUALLY, NADINE AND MOLLY FELL ASLEEP in the night sky. It was peaceful here, peaceful enough that when Nadine drifted off, she dreamed only of sweet things. She walked through a quiet meadow wearing a pale pink dress patterned with strawberries. Her hair was long again, tied back into a braid, but she didn't think of Camille. She just took in the brush of the long grass against her ankles, the whistle of a light breeze against her cheek, and the intoxicating aroma of flowers.

Eventually, she just lay there, watching a parade of puffy white clouds drift their way across the sky.

When she woke up, she woke up in Molly's arms, still wearing her bloodied dress from last night. The feeling of it plastering against her skin made her itch, so she extracted herself from Molly's warm embrace and crept out of the room to take a shower. Even though the moment she'd opened her eyes, she'd been reminded of the perils of the present and the pain in her body—plus the fact that she was another day closer to the apocalypse—she felt calm today. Prepared for whatever the universe wanted to throw at her.

Or so she thought. For when she exited the bathroom thirty minutes later, wearing fresh clothes— a light green button-down tucked into a checkered gray-and-white skirt—she was completely unprepared to nearly crash right into Luther Hargreeves.

Luther Hargreeves. Luther. Hargreeves. Luther fucking Hargreeves.

He was as tall as Nadine remembered, and just as bulky—his muscles swollen, his frame wide—with the marks from the fight he'd blown still present on his face. Today, he wore a rather ugly brown robe, one that barely stretched over his comically large body. Nadine only took a moment to notice it before the memories were crashing over her.

Luther, hand on her collar, shoving her against the wall of the basement. "You knew," he growled, jostling her slightly. "You knew, and you didn't tell any of us."

Nadine, watching in horror as Vanya banged against the glass of her prison cell. Luther standing in front of her, guarding her like a warden. "She's not goin' anywhere."

Luther, averting his eyes as he gave permission for Nadine and Allison to enact their plan to save Vanya, then crashing in and ruining it all at the last second.

They all swept over her like a wave in a stunned moment, accompanied by how she'd felt during those occasions. Sadness. Anger. Betrayal. Confusion. Horror. They all swirled together, forming a bizarre soup pot of emotion. She wasn't sure which feeling was the most potent, but she did know that she was no longer calm. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, and not just because of her fractured nose. Her chest heaved as she stared Luther down.

Luther swallowed; Nadine watched his Adam's apple bob. For a moment, he did nothing but stare back at her, at the bruises forming around her nose—they were beginning to deepen into purple—and her new look in general. Then he licked his dry lips and said, "Nadine."

"Luther," said Nadine. Why the fuck couldn't she breathe? "I thought—Five told me you abandoned the mission."

"Well, I'm back now," he said. "I got here last night." A tinge of fear darted in his eyes, and Nadine could tell he was remembering exactly what he'd done to her back in 2019.

Vanya's words from the arena came to Nadine's mind: "He... he came to the farm yesterday. He told me... he told me he was sorry for something he'd done. Something he'd done to me." Perhaps he really did feel guilt for what had happened. But Nadine couldn't be quite sure yet.

"You are, are you?" Nadine asked. Sarcasm dripped from her tone. "That's nice."

Luther seemed to realize that this wasn't the time for small talk. "Look, Nadine, I just..." he took in a breath. "I wanted to apologize."

Nadine's head snapped up.

"What I did in 2019—to Vanya, to you, to everyone, really—was inexcusable. I can never take back my actions, but I hope you know how sorry I am for everything. What you said, back when the Academy was destroyed—you were right. It really was my fault that the world ended. And I've spent the past year full of regret for it.

"I really am sorry, Nadine. And I'm sorry that I abandoned the Umbrella Academy. I was an ass, and you have no obligation to forgive me. I just hope you know that I'm trying to be better."

Nadine gawked at him for a second, letting the words truly settle in and process. Luther had apologized? He'd apologized to her? And he'd... he'd meant it?

A half-minute ticked by while she tried to comprehend that Luther—the one who had locked up Vanya, who had tricked Nadine and snapped at her—was sorry. He regretted all of it. All of it, including the parts where he'd hurt her.

Now it was her turn to lick her lips. "It wasn't your fault," she said after another twenty seconds. "The apocalypse, I mean. I was wrong to say that. I was wrong to put all of the blame on you. I'm sorry I made you feel like you'd caused the end of the world, because you didn't. And even if you were to blame, you didn't cause it alone. We were all a part of it, including me. So I'm sorry I acted like I wasn't.

"I don't know if I can forgive you completely, Luther. Not until I know that Vanya—the Vanya that remembers how you hurt her—forgives you, too. But I can offer you a truce, as long as you promise to stay. To help prevent the second apocalypse before it arrives."

Luther nodded gratefully. "Yeah, yeah, of course," he said. "Of course, I'll help."

Nadine gave him a half-smile. "Well, then. I suppose the truce has been enacted."

He smiled, too. It was more genuine than Nadine's—perhaps he hadn't thought she'd ever even think about forgiving him. Or perhaps he was just grateful she hadn't cursed his name into the heavens.

"I'm, uh, going to make some scrambled eggs," he said after a moment. "You want some?'

A laugh bubbled up in Nadine's chest. It didn't escape, but it was there, anyway. "Sure," she said. "Thanks."

Luther nodded, shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe, and started off to the kitchen. Nadine followed, taking deep breaths through her mouth, trying to pound her racing heart. Now that the encounter was over and she'd established a truce with Luther, she could finally take in air.

Maybe things really were going to be okay.

TEN MINUTES LATER, The Umbrella Academy—or Five, Luther, Diego and Nadine, as the others were still MIA—were in the kitchen, discussing their current predicament. Luther was at the stove, making an ungodly amount of eggs (Nadine knew that his large body meant that he needed more fuel than the average person, but this was ridiculous), Diego and Five were pacing the room, and Nadine was perched at the table, her legs crossed like a pretzel. Her ribs still ached. When she'd taken a peek at them during her shower, she found that the skin on her right side was a mottled purple and extremely sensitive to the touch. She held an ice pack to them now, gritting her teeth at the frigid burn.

Molly and Elliott were absent. Molly was still sleeping, and although Nadine wasn't exactly sure where Elliott was, she knew he was all right. He was probably just creating a tinfoil hat or something.

"No, no, no, I don't understand," Diego was saying. "They keep following me."

The eggs sizzled on the overloaded pan as Luther asked, "Wait, who?"

"Those Dutch sociopaths."

Five leaned against the doorframe. "They're Swedish, you idiot. Hired guns paid to eradicate us before we do any more damage to this timeline."

"How fucking familiar," Nadine murmured. "I'm surprised they weren't wearing those goddamned masks."

"Yeah, but why now?" Diego asked, baring his teeth in anger. Nadine knew he was trying to look intimidating, but he really resembled a yappy dog. "I mean, I'm..." he snapped his fingers as he spoke, "...fine for three months until you showed up."

"Yeah, I was here for a year and no one messed with me," said Luther, still focusing on those eggs.

"Try two years," said Nadine, adjusting the position of her ice pack. "Other than the typical misogyny, homophobia, and racism of this era, I was doing fine." She made the OK symbol with her unoccupied hand to solidify this.

Diego spread out his arms at Five, indicating that answers were needed. Five just glared.

"Even if it was my fault, which it isn't, we only have six days before the end of the world, and the closest anyone's gotten to Dad was that driveway at the Consulate."

"Unless you count Diego having been stabbed by him," Nadine piped up. Diego shot her a withering look.

"Well..." Luther looked up from his cooking sheepishly, "...that's not exactly true."

Nadine blinked. "What?"

"What do you mean?" Five asked, taking a step towards him.

"I saw him," said Luther. And, as he continued to prepare the eggs, he began to recount a truly depressing story.

When Luther had dropped into 1962, he'd had nobody. All of his siblings were gone, presumed dead. He'd had nowhere to go, nothing but the change in his pocket and the clothes on his back. It was all so new to him. Because he'd spent most of his life at the Academy and four years on the Moon, he'd never had to worry about having a roof over his head before. He'd never had to get a job or put food on the table or do anything but work the missions his father provided for him. So, he decided to forage for the money he needed to afford a bus ride out of Dallas and head back to the Umbrella Academy. He'd thought that perhaps he'd be able to meet his father, explain to him that he was his son and that he'd time travelled from the future. It had taken a while, but he'd finally made it back to his home—which wasn't his home, in 1962. But it was still owned by Reginald Hargreeves, and that had been enough.

Unfortunately, his father hadn't given him the warm welcome he'd expected. When Luther had (foolishly, in Nadine's eyes) attempted to tell Reginald the truth, the old man hadn't believed him. Not that he was his son, not that he was from the future, not even about the Umbrella Academy. Instead, he'd accused him of being a member of the CIA or KGB and told him to get the hell out of his house. Though from what Nadine knew about Reginald Hargreeves, she thought this was all quite in character.

As he'd talked, Luther had served her a plate of eggs—with much smaller proportions than his own piled plate. She speared a few on her fork, deep in thought, just as Diego said, "That's pathetic."

"Yeah, well, at least he didn't shank my ass," said Luther, mouth full.

"No, bro, he shanked your heart."

Nadine nearly choked on her eggs (which, she had to admit, were somewhat mediocre) at that.

Just then, Elliott and a freshly showered Molly both came into the room, regarding the scene. There was Nadine, Luther, and Diego, all sitting around the kitchen table, and Five leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Elliott looked particularly at Luther. "Is that my bathrobe?"

Luther's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "No."

"Morning, everyone," chirped Molly, oddly optimistic given the circumstances. "Who's this?"

"That's Luther," said Nadine. "Apparently, he's back now."

Molly did a double-take at his burly frame. Once she'd recovered, she attempted to smile at them. "Anyone want any coffee?"

Five raised his hand immediately. As soon as he'd put it down, however, he tried to get the group back on track. "Look, who cares what our father shanked? He knows something about time travel."

"Um..." Elliott raised his hand like a child in elementary school. "Wait, why don't you just do your thing and, uh, time travel us out?"

Five immediately moved away from the wall, annoyed, even though it was a valid question. Nadine had been harbouring it herself, back before he'd shown up. "Anyone care to explain?"

"First time he tried, he got lost in the apocalypse," said Luther.

"Second time, he ended up without hair on his balls," continued Diego. Nadine let out a laugh at that, even though it irritated her ribs.

Molly poured him a mug of coffee, and Five took it eagerly, bringing it to his lips as he spoke. "Last time I tried, I scattered the Umbrella Academy across three years in Dallas, Texas, possibly triggering a doomsday." He ended the sentence with his trademark sarcastic grin.

"The second doomsday," said Nadine. "Just in case you lost track."

Five tipped his mug at the flummoxed man. "Any more questions, Elliott?"

Molly whistled lowly, pouring a packet of sugar into her own mug of coffee. "No wonder you're looking for other options."

"Guys, you're all missing the big picture here," said Diego. "Dad is the ringleader of a sinister cabal that's planning to kill the president."

Nadine gaped at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"A cabal?" Luther repeated.

"Right, right, I forgot President Kennedy's supposed to die," said Molly, pursing her lips. "...And that I'm supposed to witness it. Lord help me."

"Ignore him," said Five. "Look, the way I see it, we only have one option."

"Oh yeah?" Luther asked. "And what's that?"

"It's time to get the Umbrella Academy back together."

Nadine couldn't help the smile from forming. The Umbrella Academy was going to reunite. She'd see Allison, Klaus, and Vanya again. "Wait, really?"

"Hell yeah," said Diego. "Family meeting."

"I'll get Allison," Five instructed. "Luther, can you get Vanya without, uh, squeezing her to death?"

Luther glared at the reminder. "I'll try." Nadine crossed her arms. She was just about to open her mouth and make a request when Five cut her off.

"And yes, Nadine, because I know you're going to ask it, you can go with Luther. He should know where she is."

Nadine nodded, finished her last bite of eggs, and stood up. "Got it."

With everything set (or... almost everything. Who was going to find Klaus?) Five teleported out of the room. Elliott attempted to call after him, but Five was long gone. Molly stared at the space where he'd disappeared, coffee mug half to her lips. "Outta sight," she breathed, eyes wide.

Meanwhile, a bewildered Elliott was turning to the others. "Uh..." he gestured to himself. "What should I do?"

Diego grinned. "Prepare for company."

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