CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
blood of the covenant

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"I STILL HAVE TIME to stop Dad before Kennedy makes his final turn," Diego said, peering at the Dealey Plaza through the window. Nadine, after finishing her reunion with Vanya—her real reunion, because Vanya was back, she remembered her, she remembered everything—had joined him and Allison at the window, hand intertwined tightly with Molly's. It was strange to be looking down upon a place that would soon become immortalized in history, especially after the surrealism of surviving an event that could have ended the world. Unfortunately, she didn't have the time to mull.

Allison attempted to take her brother's arm. "No, no, where are you going?"

Diego halted for a moment. "Look, I saw the explosion. I saw the tapes, Allison. The explosion causes doomsday. You're safe now. He doesn't have to die."

"Diego, wait—" Nadine started, but Diego was already moving. With nearly inhuman speed (he might actually be able to beat her in a race), he burst into the stairwell. Thuds echoed up to her, the sounds of his boots leaping down two stairs at a time.

Molly shifted slightly in place. "What's the harm?" she asked quietly. "He's right. The apocalypse is over. Does he... does the assassination have to happen?"

Of course, she'd be wondering that. She'd only recently learned that JFK was fated to be killed today. If that could be avoided, why shouldn't it?

Unfortunately, Nadine had dabbled enough in time travel to know that nothing was without its price. "It does. The timeline—our timeline—depends on this happening. If the president doesn't die today, then history itself gets rewritten. Things that are meant to be will never come to pass, and other things that never should have happened will."

"The butterfly effect." Allison nodded. "Have you ever heard of it, Molly? The theory that every action—no matter how minor—causes a chain reaction?"

"Y-yeah," Molly responded.

"And this wouldn't be a minor action," Nadine said. "This would tangle the timeline completely. There's a possibility that I wouldn't be born. And then the Commission—" just the word on her tongue made her bones grind, "—would be all up in our business again, and nothing good happens with them. I promise you that."

Molly chewed on her lip. It was evidently difficult for her to wrap her head around. Nadine had been like that, two years ago, when she'd first learned about the complexities of time travel.

"Why aren't you going after him, then?" Molly asked.

"We'll never catch up," Allison responded. "And he wouldn't stop, even if we did. All we can do now is hope that the universe ensures everything is in order."

"I... I should be down there." Molly shifted from foot to foot. "I promised my grandparents I wouldn't be too long... but the president's already on his way, isn't he?"

"He is," Nadine confirmed. "But, trust me, Molls. You're not going to want to be there when he is."

So long as the universe is on our side today.

Maybe she could just blame Reginald, the asshole. After all, it had been him that had embedded the mindset into Diego that he was always second-best. It was him who made Diego so desperate to be a hero that he did crazy things—like save a president that was supposed to die. It was comforting to revert back to that. If she ever saw him again, she was going to wring out his wrinkly neck.

Her eyes were glued to the scene outside the window. The waving flags, the sea of people who were nothing more than multicoloured dots. It wasn't like she wanted John F. Kennedy to die (though, who knew what he'd become—perhaps he had been destined to be a dictator), but it was already written. They were supposed to be spectators here, not rewriters. History wasn't something to be tampered with.

Maybe that's why the Commission do what they do, her mind—traitorous thing—supplied. Except they have access to the future, too, not just the past.

The thought came out of nowhere, and Nadine nearly bashed her head into the wall in her haste to get rid of it. No. No, no, no. What the Commission did—killing innocent people, those who may not even have a definite effect on the timeline—was wrong. This was different. The future wasn't supposed to be written, but the past was. And it was something that could never change without outside influence.

Vanya and Klaus joined them at the window. They all wanted to know if Diego would succeed, or if time would go on as usual. And they were just on time, too. Right as they shouldered in beside Nadine and Molly, there it was: the motorcade.

"Kennedy's turning," said Allison. She didn't really need to say it aloud. Everyone was watching the procession. The procession that lacked a vehicle it was supposed to have.

Her gut squirmed. She had interfered with history—she'd taken out Officer Coldwell. But, despite this, she couldn't make herself regret it.

Besides, it wasn't like anyone in 2019 knew his name, anyway.

"Holy smokes, there's Diego," said Molly. And indeed, it wasn't long before Nadine's eyes found a black-clad figure sprinting across the lawn, fast as a bullet in his urgency. Her heart stuttered. Fucking hell, what if he really made it?

The motorcade continued to drive past the cheering crowd—Molly's grandparents among them. Allison took in a breath at the sight of it. "It's happening again."

Klaus frowned. "Oh, Jackie."

Diego—still nothing but a black streak from Nadine's vantage point—ran across the road, tackling another figure dressed in black. Nadine pressed her nose closer to the glass. Had he done it? Had Diego Hargreeves rewritten history as everyone knew it?

Then Nadine saw it. A burst of red. A shocked moment of silence. Then, chaos, a stampede of motion, all members of the crowd turning and running.

Even from here, she could hear the screams.

Molly's hands flew over her mouth. "Oh my God," she breathed. "Oh, Lord. He's really dead, isn't he?"

Allison ducked her head. It was likely that, even with the necessity of JFK's death, she didn't like to see it happen. Nadine somewhat agreed with that notion, keeping her eyes firmly away from the blood. But she was also relieved. At least now, history would go on as it always had.

"He's really dead," she confirmed, backing away from the window. "Come on. We should—we should leave."

At least the world is saved, she thought, following the others downstairs and out of the FBI building. It was what she'd wanted from the very beginning—not when Five had shown up at the Dallas Aquarium, but when he'd first travelled into 2019 and let them know that the world was going to end. But right now, she didn't feel like celebrating. All she wanted was a bath, a good night's sleep, and maybe a vacation.

Maybe she was still in shock. Maybe it would kick in soon. Maybe she'd soon fall to her knees and cheer. Maybe she'd drown herself in champagne, have banging sex with Molly, and finally let herself relax.

Or maybe she wouldn't.

The world was always meant to end. The traitorous part of her mind slithered out again. It will happen. Even if Vanya doesn't end up doing it.

No. Nadine took in a deep breath, then slid into the car after Allison. What was wrong with her? The apocalypse was over. It was done. Why couldn't she just be happy about that?

Why did a part of her always have to clamor that the worst was yet to come?

NIGHT CAME AND WENT. As per usual, Nadine and Molly slept as a unit, two bodies turning into one. Despite her distrust of yesterday's victory, she slept well; perhaps her brain had decided to give her a break. She dreamt about candy lands and magical doors, gossamer gowns and goddesses of the Moon. When she woke up, there was a moment where she panicked, sure the apocalypse was right at her doorstep. Then she remembered that it was all over.

Probably.

She got out of bed anyway. It was only six in the morning, but she was used to waking up early. For the first time in a week, she decided to go for a run.

Tying her hair back, sliding into comfortable jogging clothes, lacing up her shoes and bidding a sleeping Molly goodbye... all these routines reminded her of the mundane weeks she'd had in the '60s. Those were the times when her biggest problems were making Leroy see her potential and getting Thomas off her back. It was almost nostalgic.

But it had only been a week. A week. Another Week of Hell, another contender for Nadine's list of 'worst weeks in existence'. Another week where each day weighed down upon her like it was a century.

As she set off from Elliott's, she kept a steady mantra in her head, trying to make herself believe the words. You're all right. You're okay. The world is saved. All of the bad stuff is over. You don't need to worry about it anymore.

Where would she go from here? What would the Umbrella Academy do now? How would they find a way back to 2019? They'd met up with Luther and Five yesterday and caught each other up. There, Nadine had learned that Five had attempted to intercept a younger version of himself in order to get his hands on the Commission briefcase, which would have taken them back to where they belonged. That had been another thing she hadn't known was possible, but she forced her swirling mind to sit down and pay attention as she listened. Because the plan hadn't worked. Both Fives—which was so weird to think about; she could barely handle one—had suffered paradox psychosis, a condition that started off fairly mildly and progressed to homicidal rage. Before long, they were both attempting to end each other's existences (something Nadine would have paid good money to witness, if she was being honest). Unfortunately, the briefcase had been lost in the scuffle.

They were back to stage one.

Maybe it's not such a bad thing. Nadine's strong legs brought her past the cinema, though it was as abandoned as most of Dallas. All of the tourists had gone home after yesterday, and most of the citizens remained inside, practically nailing boards to their windows. There was no one to watch her half-run, half-limp (she did have a rather wicked bruise after slamming her back into the desk yesterday) her way through the streets. I mean, I'll be without Papa, but at least I'll have Molly. We can do whatever we want, just the two of us. Go on another date. Sleep under the stars. Maybe I could build a life with her.

The thought was comforting, but only a little. Nadine didn't belong here. She needed to go back home, back to France. And she wanted... oh, she wanted. She wanted to introduce Molly to her father and spend the day with the two of them. She wanted to eat pastries in a real French bakery, not the one here. She wanted to show Molly how to use a cellphone and how to navigate social media. She wanted to listen to Queen and David Bowie in her room.

She even wanted to see Camille again. Though that was only to show her what she was missing.

How many more days could she handle here, in an era that thought homosexuality was a disease? In an era where she couldn't become an Ichthyologist solely because she was a woman? In an era where Allison and her husband had to protest the right to eat in the same goddamn restaurant as people like Nadine? She wanted to kiss Molly in public. She wanted to go back to university and finish her degree. She wanted so much more than 1963 could ever give her.

The prospect of being stuck here sent bile boiling into her throat. She drew to a halt, leaning against a wall to catch her breath. Her eyes closed. Please don't let me be stuck here.

Once upon a time, her runs had been ways to chase these kinds of thoughts from her mind. Now, they invaded nonetheless, demanding to be heard. Her own brain had turned traitor on her long ago, when it had begun to give her nightmares of Hazel and Cha-Cha's guns pointed at her face. Even with the occasional gifts it gave her—like the dreams she'd had last night—it still remained firmly against her.

When her stomach growled, Nadine decided to head back. She didn't say back home, because Elliott's house would never be home. Home was Molly's house, with its smell of incense and lavender sheets. Home was La Petite Montagne, in the hotel room she'd made her own. At one point, home had even been the Umbrella Academy.

Home would never be Elliott's house. Not when it still carried the stench of his death.

She started to run again, flying past the buildings that shouldn't have been so familiar. When she entered Morty's, her body carried her upstairs without asking her mind to lead the way. That shouldn't have been happening, either.

Nadine took a long draught of water and headed to the bathroom. She'd taken a lot of showers lately—more than usual—but her body yearned for another. Sometimes, she used showers as a way to try to scourge a bad day from her skin. Today, she just didn't want to be sweaty.

While the water ran, hot and purposeful, Nadine looked down at her arms. And, for the first time since the frantic police chase, she decided to bring out her abilities again. Not a Sanctuary, even though an escape from reality may have been soothing. Instead, she tested out her attempts at invisibility.

Deep breaths, Nadine. She could do this. This may not have been easy, but it was something she knew. She wasn't overexerting herself. This wasn't like what she'd done to the policeman. This was... this was familiar. This was doable, even if she didn't spread it across her entire self.

The illusion held. And although the faintest of headaches pulsed at her forehead, it was nothing to be afraid of. She could do this. She could do this.

Her entire body tingled as she overlapped it with an illusion. She'd never known if turning each part of her invisible was even possible, but she had to try. This would—if this worked, this would expand the realms of her illusions. Maybe she could even use it on other people.

First, though, she had to figure out how to do it on herself.

She was just tightening the screws on the image, heart thumping in anticipation, when a knock sounded at the door. Her concentration shattered, and she scowled. Irritated, she was just about to snap something foul when Vanya's muffled voice cut through the hiss of shower steam.

"Nadine? I know you're showering right now, but when you're done, there's something you need to see."

Something you need to see. Based on Vanya's tone, whatever the something was likely wasn't anything good. Nadine's heart sunk, and her brain decided to chime in with an 'I told you so.'

She couldn't exactly shower after that. So, after making a halfhearted effort to rub soap along her body, she turned off the water. Her clothes—today was a light blue sleeveless top and a checkered skirt—were put on with shaking hands. Then, with nothing else to do, she went to find Vanya.

When she set off down the hallway, however, she nearly bumped into Molly, who was—surprisingly—awake. She was dressed, too, wearing a gorgeous green dress and a wide-brim hat, her hair tied back into a knot.

"Morning, Molls," Nadine said, raising a hand in a wave. She was still shaking. "Funny seeing you awake."

Molly gave her a weak smile. "Hi, Nads," she said. "I'm... um, I'm going to see my grandparents. I should've done so yesterday, after the president was shot, but I wasn't thinking straight. But earlier, I was on the phone with them, and they were completely flipping out. They're in shock, you know? President Kennedy died right in front of them. And I figured... well, our work is done, right? The world is saved. It's not like you need me here."

Nadine nodded. "I completely understand," she said. "I'll see you later?"

"Of course."

Molly leaned in, and the two of them shared yet another kiss. This one was too fleeting for Nadine's liking, but when they broke apart, she could taste Molly's lipstick. A phantom kiss.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadine found Vanya—and the rest of the Umbrella Academy, sans Klaus—in the actual store portion of the house. All of them were watching one of the televisions tentatively, predictably awaiting news on the assassination that had occurred yesterday.

She descended the steps and went to stand beside Vanya. "Hi, everyone," she said, then blinked. "Oh. I didn't know today was 'dress in black' day. I guess I miss the memo."

"Shh," Five chided. "It's coming on now."

"Where's Klaus?" Nadine whispered to Vanya.

"Upstairs," she replied. "I think he's still sleeping."

As Five shushed them again, a male reporter came on screen. "Authorities are asking for help identifying several persons of interest at Dealey Plaza at the time of the assassination," he began. "The FBI believes they may have been acting in concert with the alleged shooter, Lee Harvey Oswald."

The reporter showed the audience the mugshot of Oswald himself, and Nadine folded her arms. "'Several persons of interest'? This can't be good."

And indeed, it wasn't.

"Vanya Hargreeves, wanted in connection with the deaths of several FBI agents inside the Federal Building at Dealey Plaza." The mugshot of Oswald was replaced with Vanya's. Nadine's eyes widened.

Oh, fuck.

Things went from bad to worse as the reporter continued to speak. "A Cuban exile known only as Diego—"

"Cuban?" Diego repeated incredulously. His old mugshot now filled the screen. Fortunately, he didn't really resemble that image anymore.

"—who recently escaped from the Holbrook Sanitorium. A bare-knuckle boxer with suspected Mafia ties who fights under the alias 'King Kong'." And there, of course, was a picture of Luther.

Nadine would've laughed if her heart hadn't been beating so hard.

The reporter continued. "Allison Chestnut, a Negro radical responsible for instigating and organizing the recent riots at Stadtler's lunch counter." As Allison's picture popped up on the screen, dizziness swept over Nadine. It was so profound that she nearly missed the next—and devastating—accusation.

"Nadine Vidal, a former employee of the Dallas Aquarium, who was recently identified as the assailant of Officer Coldwell."

And there, staring back at Nadine, was a picture of her. It wasn't a mugshot, nor a candid shot—instead, it was an employee photo. She beamed at the camera with emotion she hadn't actually had, her makeup and hair both pristine.

That was the face currently being broadcasted all over the country.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"And finally, Klaus, the controversial cult leader and known tax evader." Nadine stared at the fairly accurate portrait of Klaus with her pulse roaring. Her mouth was locked in a permanently agape position when the reporter finished, "The FBI is asking the public to be on the lookout for this unidentified boy—" here was a picture of Five, peering over a fence, "—who they believe is being held hostage by the suspected terrorist network."

Five shrugged at that. "Well, it's true. I do feel like I'm being held hostage most days."

"God, I hate that photo," Diego growled. Allison just scoffed.

"They're saying I instigated the riot? That's unbelievable."

Luther rubbed his temples, trying to look on the bright side of things. "Look, the good news is that we restored the timeline and we stopped doomsday."

Nadine whirled around to face him. "'Restored the timeline'?" she repeated. "'Restored the timeline'? This isn't supposed to happen, Luther! How the fuck did this—how did they even figure us out? How do they know that I was the one that—" In an impulsive surge of anger, she slammed her fist into the stairwell's railing. It did nothing to alleviate her anger; merely sent pain spiking up her hand. Cradling it, she continued, "This is—this is not a victory, Luther. Not in the slightest."

"She's right," grumbled Diego. "We're no goddamn heroes. We let Kennedy die."

"That's your takeaway from this?" Nadine threw her arms into the air. "We are fucking screwed!"

"Yeah, we're now officially the most wanted people in the world," said Allison. "The FBI is after us, the Dallas police, the Secret Service. I mean, it's only a matter of time before they hunt us down here."

"Well, where are we supposed to go?" Vanya asked.

Klaus, who Nadine hadn't even noticed was coming to join them, suggested, "I have this yurt just outside Reykjavik. We could totally lay low there. Folks there are a little weird, but lovely."

"Hey, numbnuts," Five interrupted. Klaus, about to go off on a tangent, shut his mouth. "Hiding's not gonna make a difference here. The Commission will hunt us down wherever and whenever we go."

"Oh, of course," said Nadine, letting out a crazed chuckle. "I almost forgot about those guys."

"He's right," said Diego, ignoring Nadine. "They'll never stop."

Five turned to him. "I'm sorry, since when are you an expert on the Commission?"

"Since I got back from there."

"What?"

"Yeah, they headhunted me, offered me a job. Full time with benefits, which I had to turn down."

"And thank God you did!" Nadine barked. Was she going crazy? She was probably going crazy. "I mean, we're talking about the people who tried to kill all of us on multiple occasions, aren't we? You know, those guys?"

Five was staring at his brother incredulously. "They headhunted you... the village idiot."

"What, am I not allowed to be headhunted?" Diego protested. "Only the almighty Five needs to be in demand?"

Nadine put her face in her hands. This was the argument they were having right now?

"Diego, you're not Commission material, all right?" Five snapped. "Got an obstinate nature to ya."

"Who do you think it was that figured out Vanya was the one that causes doomsday and stopped it? Me. That's who."

"Hey!" Klaus argued.

Nadine didn't even bother pointing out to Diego that it had been a team effort. She instead just listened in exasperation as Diego continued, "I figured it all out on the Infinite Switchboard."

Five furrowed his eyebrows. "You were on the Infinite Switchboard?"

"Hell, yeah. I made that machine my bitch. Y'all need to recognize I got shit going on y'all don't even know about."

That was what broke all of them. In seconds, the entirety of the Umbrella Academy had dissolved into arguments. Diego continued to go on and on about how he single-handedly saved the world by meeting the Résistance—whatever the hell that was—at their secret lair, Five shot back, like an idiot, Klaus just chuckled at it all, and Nadine went to sit beside Allison on the stairs. Why was nobody taking this seriously? All of them had been accused of being part of one of the most infamous historical events in the United States (probably. Nadine didn't exactly have a degree in American History, but she assumed this was fairly important), and they were just... brushing it off?

Pulling her knees to her chest, Nadine wondered what Molly was thinking about all of this. She, at least, knew that Nadine had no part in killing the president. But what about the Gallagher family? They were all going to believe that the woman Molly was living with was some sort of terrorist! Even Leroy and Thomas, two people Nadine didn't care about in the slightest, were going to have a sour taste in their mouths. Oh, fuck... what if the FBI interrogated Molly? What if—

She was abruptly dragged out of her own thoughts by Vanya's voice. "I'm leaving."

All arguments died. Nadine finally looked up.

"What?" Allison asked. "To go where?"

"Sissy's farm," Vanya explained. "Something's wrong with Harlan, and I need to help him."

"Vanya, we need to stick together, okay?" Luther admonished. "Now more than ever."

Vanya took a determined step forward. "That's why I'm telling you this. Whatever's going on with Harlan, I think I might've caused it."

"How?"

Vanya let out a shaky sigh before continuing her explanation. "He drowned, and, uh, somehow I was able to bring him back to life. And now it's like we're connected."

Nadine got to her feet. "You brought him back to life?"

"Wh... what does that even mean?" Luther asked.

"I don't know," said Vanya. "I can't explain, but... I know that he needs my help. I need your help, too. I'm scared. And for the first time in my life, I don't wanna do it alone. I want my family by my side."

When she finished speaking, the room fell into momentary silence. Nadine leaned against the wall, deliberating. The FBI would be after her, along with the Dallas Police and the Secret Service, as Allison had said. Wherever she went, she'd be in trouble. It probably wasn't a good idea to go out in the open as a wanted criminal.

But on the other hand, Vanya needed her. She'd referred to Nadine as a part of her family (though Nadine wasn't sure if it was intentional or not). And she remembered Nadine, now, as someone more than just an acquaintance. So, didn't Nadine have a duty to help her? She'd failed back in 2019, and at the Federal Building yesterday, but that didn't mean she had to fail today. Maybe this would be a chance for her to fix her mistakes.

Plus, it was likely that, even if the Umbrella Academy refused, Vanya would still go out there. Then they'd be separated regardless, and have to deal with being fugitives on their own.

Well, there it was. The decision had practically been made for her.

She clenched her hands into fists and took a step forward. "All right, I'm in," she said—at exactly the same time Diego said, "Look, I'm sorry."

His gaze darted to hers when he realized their voices overlapped, but he continued firmly, "We have other priorities right now."

"Diego's right," said Five, just as Nadine was opening her mouth again. "For once. We need to make our stand here and now."

"What stand?" Nadine asked. "What the fuck are we even supposed to do? Listen, I get it. I'm terrified of being caught, too. But we can't just—we can't just abandon Vanya now. We're supposed to be a team, right? Or at least, the Umbrella Academy is. Or... Team Zero. It may not have gone so well back at the tiki bar with your father, but now you have another chance. A chance to finally be a family—all members included. And I'll never claim that my family was the best. But I do know that families are supposed to look out for each other."

"Nadine, we don't have time," Five snapped. "There are more pressing matters on our hands at the moment."

Nadine clenched her jaw, but before she could fire a barbed comeback at Five, Vanya raised a hand, stopping her. "Okay," she said. "I guess I'll see you when I see you."

She began to walk away, and Nadine—shooting withering looks at the others—was quick to follow.

"I'm sorry the others didn't come," she said, once said others were out of earshot. "They're such assholes, even now."

"It's fine," said Vanya, in a tone that implied it certainly wasn't. "I guess blood isn't thicker than water, after all."

"Well, that's not the full saying," said Nadine, as they headed outside. "The real proverb is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' It means that the bonds we form ourselves are more important than the ones were saddled with—the ones we have by chance." She extended a pinky finger to Vanya. "You can always count on me, Vanya Hargreeves. Even if I'm not a Hargreeves myself."

Vanya wrapped her own pinky around Nadine's, giving her a small smile. "Thanks, Nadine," she said. "But you are my family, you know. As much as the others. I'm sorry—I'm sorry I ever forgot about you. I wish I didn't. I wish I could've gone back to when you first found me in the cornfield and given you the greeting you deserved."

"It's all right," said Nadine. "It's not your fault."

"I think a part of me still missed you, though," said Vanya, sliding into the front seat. As Nadine clambered into the passenger's, she continued, "There were times when I saw Sissy and swear I'd met her before. Blue eyes, blonde hair, beautiful skin... it was like déjà vu.

"But now... I think it was you I was thinking of, Nadine Vidal. I think I missed you, even before I knew who you were. Because, well... I care about you, Nadine. And I'm so sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise."

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HAVEN: ahhh here we go! we're getting closer to the end! i mean, there are still four chapters left, but a lot is going to happen in them! important revelations (NEXT CHAPTER, omg)!! nadine power upgrade!! the fight with lila we've all been waiting for!!

buckle up your seatbelts, folks. it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

thanks for reading ;)