—chapter nine, or...

  ❛ all we do is wear cool outfits and hide our feelings. ❜  

IF THE PAST THREE YEARS IN THE 1960s HAD BEEN A STRANGE DREAM, THE LAST TWENTY-FOUR HOURS PASSED LIKE A NIGHTMARE.

The sort of dream where you couldn't move, but just had to watch as everything unfolded around. Except Elodie couldn't say it was all bad...maybe it all sucked emotionally, but she could just chalk that up to life, because emotionally she'd never been doing too hot, right?

It was all chaotic though. And crazy. To be honest, trying to remember how she got from Point A to Point B kind of felt impossible. She could only remember in small increments, the biggest moments, up to her being in some loony's apartment chock full of dentistry paraphernalia (because the Umbrella Academy couldn't ever attract normal people, could they?!), and starting with her kind-of-one-way relationship becoming just that bit more fucking insane.

It started, of course, with a question of marriage.

ABOUT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER
NOVEMBER 17th, 1963.

CONTRARY TO SOME'S BELIEFS, ELODIE WAS NO FOOL.

So when Benjamin Bayard got down on one knee and proposed to her, all golden hearted and not a smidge of doubt in his baby blue eyes, she did not hesitate to act accordingly.

She immediately panicked. Of course.

Somehow Elodie managed to babble some way out with the promise of thinking about it — and with the small box pressed into her hand, but only by the skin of her teeth. She raced all the way out and up the stairs, pressing her back into the door of the tiny bathroom she had been given to use.

She dry-heaved and sweated for several minutes before finally being able to gather her wits. But even when she left, stuffed the ring deep into her stockings drawer and went back downstairs, Elodie was a wreck. She did her best to conceal her worries, hiding behind a strained smile and only barely shaking fingers that she feared would set into flame any second. It worked for most. Livingston didn't care about her wellbeing. Benjamin, that poor sweet man, seemed convinced he had won his prize, judging by that dopey smile adorning his flushed skin. And her brother was preoccupied; he hadn't even looked at her once. Whatever plagued his mind, Elodie wasn't able to break through.

But Aimee knew.

She caught Elodie's wrist just before she could leave, in between the kitchen and dining room. Her eyes darted across the woman's face, and her frown dug deeper. "He did it, didn't he?"

Elodie didn't answer with words. Just a nod, knowing that they were both thinking of the same thing.

"Blasted boy," she cursed under her breath. Aimee's grasp tightened, pressing twice into her skin before letting go. Like a promise, though Elodie didn't really know what she was assuring her of. "We'll talk about this later."

She nodded jerkily before plunging into the kitchen and dropping the tray of dirty dishes down. She fled through the back door and fell to her knees on the cold ground, staring at her hands that were way past the glowing stage. Flames licked up her knuckles and bled warm across her palms.

"Fuck," she cursed, clenching her hands into fists. Begging them to release. "Fucking shit!"

Her mind fled back to memories of similar events, only with much different eyes, and with a shy smile so unlike the man, whispering words of adoration and promise that she had actually wanted to hear. The proposal Diego had given to her, years and years prior, back when they were just two idiots trying to find their way through life. 

She could still remember the ring he had bought her two months after the proposal. It was cheap and small, plain as the eye could say, but she had adored it because it was from him. Worn it gratefully, flashed it eagerly at any customers that had hit on her, paraded her hand around like it was worthy to be gazed upon. She had kept it, too, even after he had left her life.

Elodie unraveled one of her fists and stared at where the ring had once sat. Nothing marked the finger, just the same miserable burning she wished she could feel. Benjamin had tried to slide the ring on her. She had stopped him midway.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to her empty hand. "I'm so sorry."

When she returned inside and to her job, she avoided Benjamin's eyes. She didn't speak to him the entire night.

ELODIE HADN'T EVER CARED MUCH ABOUT MARRIAGE. Her parents' had been a sham, and she didn't really know any healthy couples, other than her old dear friend Charlie Alonzo. But he was a good guy, genuinely so, and she was a microwaved piece of shit that somehow had made it through life without getting stomped on.

Well, she might have met Death. She wasn't too confident on that yet.

But she did, a little, want that companionship that had been promised to her by the second Hargreeves years and years ago. Certainly a lot more than Benjamin's, who's proposal was like a bullet to the brain and completely sabotaged her ability to think shit through for the day to come.

Which —

well, you'll see soon enough.

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER
NOVEMBER 18th, 1963.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING WENT BY TOO FAST. Elodie couldn't recall the details for the life of her. She watched from what felt like a distance as Ellis ate and left for school, still stormy-eyed, and as Livingston drank his coffee and read his newspaper, and how she dropped so many things, she might as well have never tried to hold them at all. It didn't matter. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread gripping her soul, and it was slowly eating her whole. She might as well give in and succumb to its hold already.

"Miss Cruise."

It was only the call of her faux name, the third time, did she shake from her reverie. Elodie lifted her head and nodded politely. She'd gotten too good at submission —  to the point where she hardly recognised when her morals slipped away and the shy Lucy Cruise took their place. Did she have any part of herself left, anymore? The real Elodie? Was there ever even a true version of herself?

"Yes, sir?"

"I have business at an event tonight. A gala, put on by some quite important figures in this country." Livingston waved his hand, "I won't bother you with their names, I don't expect you'd know them."

The insult didn't hurt; she barely heard it.

"I'd like for your son to accompany me, tonight. I think he is at a point where he should be displayed for higher society to see, and I have a few...friends who would be quite interested in his adolescent concepts."

Elodie frowned, digging her fingernails into the underneath of the table. "Sir, I don't know if Freddie would enjoy a fancy event of that. He's quite the quiet child, you see."

"I promise you, he will not be bored in the slightest. Several gentlemen attending will have minds to rival his own; I'm sure he'll enjoy arguing for his clever ideas."

"W-well, sure, but that's not—"

"—I would be alright if you came along, too as his chaperone. You wouldn't be allowed to be around for my business, but...you could attend the party." He bared his teeth in a white-flashed sneer; Elodie fought to urge to throw a punch right into them. "I'm sure that's something you would be interested in, yes? I doubt you've seen the likes of such events before."

"I..." she sighed and dipped her head low to hide her worry. "I'll go with, yes. But I don't think I have appropriate attire."

"Oh, don't worry about that. My daughter will provide you with a dress. And I've already had a suit made for Freddie."

So he had been planning this for a while. Did Ellis know?

"That will be all," Livingston prompted, oblivious to her discomfort. "Be ready for seven sharp tonight. I will leave without you."

"Yes, sir."

NOW, ELODIE DIDN'T KNOW A GREAT DEAL ABOUT THAT EVENT. She didn't know that her Majestic 12 employer was planning something incredibly nefarious for that gala, though she did sort of glean that. She also didn't know Ellis' part in it, that he had found some strange sketches and sort of totally coerced the kid into going along with his evil brain for her sake. She also, also didn't know, of course, that Ellis had become best friends with an alien being that didn't have a name, only a singular pronoun 'She', and that they were planning their own nefarious doings, and that one of the two were not aware that said doings were at all nefarious.

She also, also, also, didn't know who else would be at the event. And why. And what would occur next, of course.

SEVEN HOURS EARLIER
NOVEMBER 18th, 1963.

Aimee pulled and poked at the fabric hanging on Elodie's form like it was a sack of potatoes and not a real human. "Tch."

"What is it?"

She didn't look up. "This doesn't suit you at all. In fact, it's all completely wrong. This — the frill at the top, and the colour, it's all horrid on you. Er, no offense, of course."

"None taken," Elodie mumbled drearily. She spared a single glance at herself in the mirror, only to cringe at her reflection. It was way out of her comfort zone, both in the sense of her 60s self and her real taste, with billowing tufts of varying blue shades tied together by a wide navy sash. Frilly lace was woven in, too, especially towards the bottom, and it looked odd in her dingy lighting. She felt like she was getting ready for junior prom, if she had been allowed to go to it.

"You're made for warm tones."

"Hm?"

"Reds, and oranges," Aimee mused, pressing a finger to her chin. "You should try wearing those colours more. Not that you don't dress fine usually, but — I have an odd feeling, you'd be a vision in red."

Elodie flushed, not from the compliment, but from the oblivious implication of it. Red. "I'll keep that in mind."

Her friend was silent for a long moment after that. Elodie stood silently, staring at the strange woman looking back at herself, swathed in blue that felt oddly right, for the melancholy thrumming in her heart. She didn't feel pretty, or put together, or anything worth glancing at. She felt ugly and broken and scarred, covered in grief and shame and like a toy that deserved to be thrown away at the first possible chance.

She wondered if Livingston really needed her there, or if somehow, she could get out. If Ellis could—

"—I'm sorry about Ben, you know."

Elodie glanced back up, meeting Aimee's large eyes in the mirror. "It's okay. Nothing to be sorry about."

"Aside from the fact you don't love him one bit, sure. And, not to mention that you're going to be forced into saying yes, and—"

"I-I do love him, Aimee."

"No, you don't." The young woman smiled grimly and for a moment, she looked like the grandmother Elodie remembered her to be (or thought she was, anyways). "C'mon. A woman knows these things. I recognised that look in your eyes this morning." She sighed softly. "Duty will be our damned end, I swear."

"Aimee, I..."

"You love the stranger from the asylum. The man with what, a thousand knives? The psychotic criminal."

"No. That was —  he's just an old friend."

"Spare the excuses. Your secret is safe with me." Her hand, small and lily-white, pressed into her shoulder. It squeezed lightly. "I think...we could understand each other, more than we otherwise think."

Elodie frowned, staring down at the solemn woman. Like always, Aimee mystified her, and that odd remark was no different. She said it like she knew some secret Elodie didn't. But...well, she couldn't. Could she?

"I am sorry, Lucy," Aimee interrupted, before Elodie could ask what her mysterious words meant. "If it's any condolence, Benjamin is truly, one of the good ones. He'd treat you and your son right. Hell, he'd take the kid as his own in a heartbeat too. That boy's always hungered after having a family, and I don't think he'd mind where or how it came about. He'd treat you right."

Elodie chuckled bitterly. "He's not the one I worry about."

"Then...?"

She didn't offer her a response.

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

Ellis had never looked so out of reach.

He looked wiser than her, older and better and stronger, with his soft curls perfectly coiffed and a steely look on his once gentle features. He looked right at home, brushing against Richard Livingston's right arm, and preening shyly under all the compliments fed to him. He took it like he believed them. Elodie had never seen him do that before.

She slunk behind the duo, watching carefully but making sure to stay the right space away. It wasn't her party; no one wanted to see her. And, besides. She wouldn't want them to.

"You're a real hero, you know, Richard." Some old man said that, Elodie couldn't remember the name of. His wife nodded eagerly on his arm as she watched Ellis with beady little eyes, looking like she wanted to seize him and run. "Taking in a kid like him, raising him from rags to riches? You're creating a beautiful legacy to admire."

"Well, really it's young Frederick who deserves the praise. I simply saw the potential — he's the one with the brilliant mind. I think we're all just lucky to be here, to bear witness for what I can only imagine, will be greatness."

"Absolutely! And, tell me, Freddie darling," the wife leant down, as though Ellis wasn't up to her chin already, "do you like living with Richard here?"

Much to Elodie's surprise, he didn't baulk. Instead he smiled and nodded sweetly, like a perfect pet. "Of course. Without him, I don't think anything I have now would be possible. He saw a chance and took a risk. I appreciate that greatly."

"Well, I'm sure what you've got planned in that beautiful brain of yours will prove me quite right, eh?"

Elodie's eyes narrowed. Did Livingston know something about their real selves? Or something Ellis only told him?

The wife fixed her vulture's gaze on Elodie at the gasp. "And who is this?"

"This?" Livingston snaked his free left hand back and patted strongly on Elodie's lower back. It lingered uncomfortably low, and she fought the urge to reach back and swat it. "This is my housekeeper. A wonderful girl; I figured she deserved a treat, from the marvelous work she delivers me."

The older woman clicked her tongue patronizingly. "Isn't that sweet."

"Quite." His hand drifted lower; Elodie's teeth dug into her lip until she was certain it was bloody. "Now, if you'll excuse me—?"

"Oh, of course, of course. Good seeing you."

The couple strolled off, leaving the trio alone. Livingston withdrew his hand — not a fucking second too soon, Elodie's thoughts hissed — and turned to face her.

"I have to deal with some things," he told her quietly, "and I'll be taking Freddie with me. You are free to wander, mingle, do as you please. But you will not interrupt me. Am I understood?"

Her fist clenched. "That is my child, sir."

"And I am your master, Miss Cruise." His eyes gleamed with something sadistic, something dark. "Don't dare to go against me."

"Sir..."

"It's fine," Ellis chirped from Livingston's sighed, so sweet and fake-pleasant, Elodie felt like she could cry. "Don't worry about me, mother! I'll be just fine, and I'll tell you all about it."

Livingston patted the boy's head. Ellis beamed larger. "Good boy." 

Ellis Verbeck never used to like being touched. At all. By anyone.

So why was he so willing to be now?

Elodie watched them leave her. Watched as they got smaller and smaller, disappearing into the throngs of people in rich greens and blues and crushed velvet purples. She shrank into her gown, feeling smaller than she had ever felt before. She tried to catch her eye on something, anything familiar at all, but there was nothing. 

She didn't know anyone of course. Because she wasn't fucking from here. And she wasn't supposed to be here.

"Godfuck," she cursed lowly, glancing over a woman in blue and blunt, too-short bangs. At least that stranger looked like they were enjoying themselves — or at least, seemingly on a rush to do something more fun than her. 

Elodie kind of wished she could light herself up and blown the whole establishment to bits.

SHE DID NOT, OF COURSE. But it was tempting. If it weren't for her brother-slash-son being right in the midst of the chaos, she probably would have went through with her insane, suicidal idea.

Which was probably best. It would not be a good story if it ended so...unsatisfyingly. As well, she probably would not have had the chance to live through what happened next.

THREE HOURS AND FORTY-FIVE
MINUTES EARLIER. 

"Someone left you alone too, hun?"

Elodie whirled around, startled by the sudden Texan drawl. She blinked once, twice, unsure just who she was looking at. "Um..."

"I'm sorry to assume, but I've seen ya wander past here 'bout three times now. I'm figurin' you're not here to take in the architecture?"

"I-yeah. Wait, uh, no," she spluttered, still trying to regain her senses and stop staring at the blonde woman. But she couldn't help it; there was something so weirdly familiar about this lady, like she had met her in another life or something. But that couldn't be — she knew Diego's family. And Vanya didn't look blonde, last time they met, though hair colour wasn't her biggest priority back then... "I'm waiting for someone. They — they said there was some sort of meeting, and...something. Or other."

"Ah. I think we're in the same boat, then." The blonde smiled broadly and stuck her hand out for Elodie to shake. She took it carefully. "I'm Grace. You are...?"

"Lucille. I — sorry, have we met before?"

"I don't believe so? I haven't seen you around these things before, and I've unfortunately found myself alone at quite a few."

"Oh, no, this...I don't get out much. I'm here more for my son, Freddie." Elodie cracked a nervous smile, "I don't know anything about these, uh, things. I'm just a chaperone."

"You have a kid?"

"Ha, yeah. He's sixteen, he's...elsewhere at the moment." Something flickered over Grace's face, a sadness that she almost missed. "What about you, why aren't you in the meeting?"

The blonde smiled good-naturedly, though Elodie didn't miss how her grip tightened on her champagne flute. "Ah, I'm just a date tonight. 'Fraid I wasn't considered good enough for Reg's business."

"I'm...sorry."

"Ah, s'nothing." Grace shrugged. "Men. Am I right?"

"Ha. I'll drink to that."

The two stood and made small talk for a few moments, before Elodie excused herself to look for a bathroom. But she only got a couple steps in before a very familiar voice called out, one she knew for a fact she'd know, even after so long.

"Mom?"

Elodie's heart stopped. She whirled and flattened herself against the wall, peering around the corner to catch the conversation. Her instincts had been right; it was Diego, out of the asylum and dressed rather smartly. Better than she'd ever seen him in, at the very least. But he wasn't looking at her, and it didn't seem like he even knew she was there.

Her heart leaped into her throat. She glanced between the two of them, watching as Grace laughed off Diego's weird advances. He'd called her 'mom'...

"If this is your idea of a come on, it's not goin' well."

"No! Actu...uh..." Diego shifted his weight awkwardly. "Uh, do...do you know a...a man named Sir Reginald Hargreeves?"

"Reggie? He's my date this evenin'."

Elodie racked her brain for everything she could remember about Diego's strange parental figures. Grace was a robot of some sort, right? She looked and acted like a human, but he had said that his father had literally made her to be a caretaker for his delinquent children. She was just about as real as Lucille Cruise was. But this Grace, with a Texan accent and sharp smile, didn't look much like a robot. Was there even that sort of tech in the 1960s? There had to be, if she was here. Still...her gut twisted. Something felt wrong.

"...twenty minutes ago."

Elodie shook out of her thoughts. She could question the strange antics of a dickhead later; Diego had to be first priority. And currently, he looked absolutely uncomfortable, and extremely distraught, trying his very best to keep his calm in front of his Not-Mom.

"Mm, never good to keep a lady waiting."

"Tell him that if you find him."

"Hey...uh, Grace?" He paused, seemingly trying to figure out what to say next. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," Grace said, with a strange look in her eyes. She left him standing there, staring at the spot she just stood, wandering away muttering something under her breath. Whatever she thought of what just happened...well, that wasn't something she could dwell on. She had to act, and fast.

Elodie lunged out of her hiding spot to catch Diego's jacket arm. Before he could say a word, she pulled them back around the corner, slapping a burning palm over his mouth and slamming his weight against the wall. He baulked, but the element of surprise worked in her favour, as he hardly seemed able to fight against her hold. 

Looking around to make sure no one was around to see or hear them, she heaved a sigh of relief. "Damn. Thank hell that worked." Her lashes lifted, letting her gaze finally meeting her boyfriend's (ex? partner? they'd really have to figure that out). 

She gave a small grin. "Hey, Diego."

"Elodie?! W-what are you doing here?!"

"What are you doing here?" She retorted. "I thought you were still in that asylum?!"

"I-I got out!"

"What? How? When?!"

"A day ago. I-that's not important," he spluttered, in a way that most definitely did not sooth his possibly-ex-girlfriend-and-definitely-ex-fiancé's suspicions. But Diego didn't seem to care about her narrowing eyes, or how her mouth opened and closed as she tried to figure out just what to say to that. He stared at her in pure, unmasked emotion, cupping her cheeks in his large hands. His eyes combed over every detail of her; she wondered if he could even see all that had changed about her. If he really knew or recognised her, anymore.

"You look so different," he muttered under his breath before shaking his head. "I— how are you even alive, Elodie?! W-when we left, you were dying in my fuckin' arms!"

"I...don't have time to explain. I have a feeling we don't have long, and it's a real doozy of a tale." Diego moved to protest, but she cut him off. "Was this Five's plan? Are you doing something tonight to your father?"

"Did he told you we were coming?"

"Yeah, he, we, I helped him get something from my boss. He needed details on something and I guess this was it? I don't know, he didn't say much, that little shit, and... I...we don't have time to work this all out either, I'm guessing. And I — I didn't know you'd be here."

Diego's long fingers traced down her jaw and neck, holding her gently to him. He looked like he was about to burst, like he wanted to say a million things at once. But he ended up just settling on a soft, barely audible, "I'm so glad you're okay."

"You, too. And...I'm sorry about my visit, and not helping you. I couldn't—"

"—it's okay. Jus' knowing you were alive, helped, seeing you and all that."

Tears threatened to build. "You have no idea. I was so scared, Diego."

"Me too. But I got you now. And — wait, where's Ellis?"

Elodie sighed. Her head slipped from his hold and pressed tiredly against his shoulder. "That's another long story. He's with my boss right now. Talkin' about something I got no clue about."

"Who's your boss?"

"Richard Livingston."

"Like, the Majestic Twelve, Livingston?" Diego heaved a sharp breath. "Holy shit, baby."

"Yeah. Apparently? It's..."

"...another long story?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," she snorted, lifting so she could smile at him. His beard tickled at her forehead, but she ignored it, for the chance to examine his face. He looked exhausted, absolutely worn to the very grain of his soul. Guilt stabbed its serrated edge into her side and she wished she could take it all back and fix it. She should have swooped in and burned that damned asylum to the ground — or, better yet, sought him out the second she landed. Fuck Livingston. Fuck it all.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you get out," Elodie muttered. "I...I'm sorry I wasn't better."

"Me too. I wanted to get you out. Still do. I — I looked for you everywhere, but—"

"—me too! I looked all I could, but—"

"—me, too," he repeated sadly. "Goddamn. Drove me mad. Felt so helpless, like..."

"I know. Fuck, I know."

His eyes narrowed; she recognised the mannerism too well, heart twinging knowing he was holding back tears. "I'm so sorry, baby. For al'this."

"Me too," Elodie repeated, feeling like she couldn't say anything else. Some broken doll, staring at a lover from a million years ago. "I..." There was so much she wanted to say. Do. Feel. But she wasn't sure if she knew how to do any of that, anymore, after so long.

"I...Diego, there was—"

"—Cruise!"

Elodie startled in Diego's arms, making his expression scrunch into confusion. "The hell's that?"

"My boss," she breathed. She could barely see him in the crowd. Heading her way. He didn't look happy. "Fuck."

"Everything okay?"

"No. Uh, probably not. He sounds pissed."

"Well, you don't have to—"

"—he's got Ellis." Elodie knew almost instinctively what Diego was going to propose. But she cut him off with a warning glare. "You know I can't do anything while he's got him."

"Why can't you just, you know--?!"

She hummed out a stressed sort of, 'hnngh'. "Another long story."

"We got a lot of those adding up."

"Miss Cruise?!"

He was getting closer. He'd see her properly any moment, rounding the corner strapped in some random lover's arms. Elodie's heart pounded.

"I have to go," she said quickly. Her hands squeezed his biceps. "I—you have to go, too. Now!"

"Baby--?!"

"There's no time for argument. Go!"

"I'll come for you," Diego promised, holding her still in his arms. "I promise. I'll get you and Ellis both, okay?"

She nodded frantically. The loud voice she knew all too well got louder and the lump in her throat grew too. In a moment of panic, feeling all over again like she was losing Diego, she acted. Elodie reached for his face and pulled it down to meet her lips, pressing hard and fast against his chapped, hot mouth. It was only a brief second in time, barely enough to mean anything, but she treasured it and wrapped it in her thoughts so she could hold it forever.

"I'll see you soon," she whispered, before yanking herself out of his arms. She didn't spare a second glance back as she raced to find Livingston. It'd be too painful.

ONE HOUR EARLIER

HONESTLY, ELODIE HAD NOT HELD HER BREATH OVER actually seeing Diego soon, even if it had been the last thing she promised him. She had assumed it was just a melancholic one-off, that the universe had offered one breath of relief and then snatched away her ex-but-maybe-not-so partner with a laugh and tip of some menacing hat.

What she had not expected was that she actually would. Much sooner than planned. Right outside of her window. Way, way, way too high off the ground.

"Who the hell do you think you are," she hissed, scrambling at the window lock anxiously. Diego teetered on a ladder that looked far too flimsy to support his weight (especially a million feet off the ground). He grinned like there was nothing wrong, and even had the nerve to greet her with a 'hey, baby' when she got the window open. "D'you got some sort of flying ability I don't know about to save your ass, or are you just fucking crazy?!"

"Crazy for you?"

"Oh, quit the theatrics. Get in," she shuffled back to let him fall into her tiny room, grimacing when Diego did just that. Elodie wrung her hands, watching him get back up. "Why are you here?!"

"I'm breaking you out!"

"Are you crazy?!"

"I think we went over this, I—"

She waved him quiet. Her fingers itched to burn. "You can't just come here. I — the man I work for is nuts! I don't know what he'll do to you if he knows you're here."

"Which is why we're not staying long." At her quizzical expression, Diego huffed a laugh. "You're leaving. I got a place, well it's not mine but it's a place. You an' Ellis are coming. We're trying to regroup everyone. Fix our mistakes and get the hell out of here."

Elodie stared at him, unsure how to react to that news. All in one night, all in one day, so many facets of a life she had been forced to call her own was changing — so fast, she was barely able to keep up. Diego's news was just the cherry on top of a very stressed, very burnt cake. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Absolutely." He reached out and grabbed one of her hands; she protested, but he held tight. If it burned, he didn't let it show. "I told you I'd come for you, didn't I?"

"I..." In an instant, her heart flip-flopped from fear ridden to overwhelming hope. She forgot almost everything; Livingston, Ben, Aimee...all of it vanished as she stared up at Diego, who looked back with unbatting promise. "Oh..."

She slipped her hand from his and plunged forward. Elodie crashed against his chest, arms flying around his neck, and Diego barely had a half-second to catch himself before they both fell. He only barely managed to steady himself in her hold, but she didn't care. She buried her face in his jacket sleeve and breathed in deep. Soft curls tickled her temple, and she muffled a giddy laugh in the fabric.

None of it felt real. But Elodie would rather not pinch herself; if it was a dream, she'd happily stay asleep.

"Thank you," she murmured into his shoulder. "Thank you for coming back to me."

Strong arms tightened around her form. She felt his own head nuzzle into her neck. "I'm never letting you go again, y'hear?"

"Yeah," she huffed, cursing when traitorous tears built on her lashes. "Vice versa, Robin Hood."

She felt his smile curve into her neck. "I missed the nickname."

I missed you, she replied silently, lips grazing against locks of hair and the underside of his jaw. Those words sank unsaid into his skin, opting for more urgency instead with, "we'll have to hurry. Livingston can't know."

"I figured as much." Diego pulled back and looked down at her. Hair dangled, barely grazing her temples; silently, Elodie wondered how long he would keep that look. It suited him, or it would with a bit of styling. "Your brother around?"

"Yeah, he's — he's got the other room. I'll get him."

"Okay. D'ya have a bag you can put stuff in?"

Elodie shrugged and pulled away. "I don't need anything in here." She glanced down at herself, "I mean, maybe a change of clothes, but..."

"Will this work?" He held up a small duffle. She couldn't even remember him holding it when he came in.

"Yeah. Perfect. Give me one sec, I'll be right back."

She turned away, biting back a widening grin. Finally. She would get them out. They would get to start over and get back to life, again, like real normal life outside of their weird cosplay situation. And God, Ellis would probably be so relieved to get out of Livingston's hold.

Maybe he'd actually forgive her, too.

MAYBE THIRTEEN MINUTES AFTER
THAT 'ONE HOUR EARLIER' THING
BEFORE...EARLIER. 

Ellis, to her great surprise, did not look relieved in the slightest. He stared up at her blankly, like not a word of what she said had gone into his mind.

"Ellis? I-we gotta go, like now. Diego's waiting, he's got a safe house. We're getting out of here."

"But...but why?"

"Why?" She repeated, kind of feeling like a broken record. "Uh, 'cause this isn't our house?! We're trying to get back to our own time?"

"Do — do I have to?"

Elodie's frown dug deeper. Maybe he hadn't meant to just say 'I', but... "Of course you do. We need to get the hell out of here, and the Hargreeves are going to help us with that."

"What if I don't want that?"

"Huh? Want what?"

"To get out of here with them."

She scoffed. "What the hell does that mean?"

He looked away from her, staring down at his lap like his hands were the most interesting things in the world. "Why is it that you get to choose these things? You get to choose where we go, what we do, how long we stay. That's not fair."

"I..." Elodie huffed. "This isn't like choosing what's for dinner. This is our lives on the line, kid!"

"Exactly! I should have some say on what I do with mine!"

"Do you want to stay here?!"

"It's — it's complicated!"

"How the hell is it complicated?! This guy's crazy, and he's weird, and controlling and you and I both know that you're not safe with him! And, and I was fine with all that because I had to be, but frankly I don't feel safe staying another second here, and I don't feel safe with you here, neither."

Still, Ellis didn't move. His expression didn't flinch, either.

Elodie felt like this dream she'd found herself in was slowly becoming a really, really shitty nightmare.

"We have to get back to our own time. To our own lives, Ellie." She didn't correct her slight on his name; he didn't seem to notice it. "Don't you want that?"

"Well, I—" she watched as his jaw tightened, holding back whatever he really wanted to say. He'd gotten way too good at that, as of late.

"Ellis. Please, think about this."

He glanced at her and then away, staring off to the other side of the room. Ellis seemed to mull over her words for a long, agonizing moment in silence. Finally, he muttered, "whatever. I'll have to pack."

Elodie didn't have time to unpack all of Ellis' qualms, nor did she have time to scold him on whatever his stony act was. Honestly, selfishly she didn't want to deal with it. There was finally a way out, dammit — and whatever her brother's reasons, they weren't going to be enough to convince her to stay. Never in a million years.

"That's fine," she agreed reluctantly, "pack light, though. And fast."

"Fine."

"Make sure to take anything that Livingston shouldn't know about, too."

Ellis looked at her reproachfully. "I'm not stupid, Elodie."

"Don't say that like I am," she quipped back. Where the hell had her little brother gone, and who was this condescending jerk? "I know more than you think."

Ellis didn't say anything to that. But he glanced away, again back to the other side of the room. The side of his mouth quirked.

Never had Elodie felt more lost, than at that moment, staring down at the kid that she wasn't even sure she knew, anymore. 

NOW WHILE ELODIE WAS A VERY INTELLIGENT WOMAN — in her own right — she had no clue about what her little brother was up to, what he was looking for or at, and what was going to unfold next with him. Which was strange, because they were very close once and she had tried to have as honest of a relationship with Ellis as she possibly could.

Of course, hiding her pyromaniac tendencies didn't help...but to her credit, the issues with Ellis Verbeck and one very strange woman with only a single pronoun as identification were not really her fault.

Kids are notorious truth-with-holders. And even super-intelligent and sweethearted ones can get corrupted with the guise of science and saving the world. Shit happens.

ABOUT TEN MINUTES LATER.

"YOU...WHAT?!"

Ellis scoffed smally. "Don't get mad. This isn't on me."

"How isn't it on you?! How could you have let him have it!"

"He must have gone through my stuff when I was at school, or—or something! I don't know; all I know is that he's obsessed with this...this idea that he has, and that he thinks I have, even though he's got it all completely backwards, and—"

Behind them, Diego huffed. "Not like we got all day."

Elodie shot him a 'one second' glance, before turning back. "We'll talk about this later, when we're safe. Right now we need to leave."

"I can't let him keep it!"

"It's a bit too late to keep your super mad scientists secrets secret, Ellis! We're gettin' outta here anyways, let's just go."

"If he keeps it, he could change the course of history," Ellis threw back. His voice rose considerably, ignoring the fact that anyone could hear. "I cannot let him keep it and screw things up for us."

Elodie stared at him. "What are you hiding?! Some kind of nuclear bomb recipe?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does, if it's—" Elodie sighed, wiping a hand down her face. "Okay. Fine. File that for later too. Uh...where and what is it?"

He nibbled at his lip. "It's a piece of paper, just a sketch."

Her dark brows furrowed. "What is it that's so important about this paper then? If it's 'just a sketch'?"

"I-I can't tell you."

"Ellis..."

"It's just — it's a part of something bigger, and I promise you, it's important."

Elodie groaned. "You're being so goddamn elusive, and for what?! Ellis, tell me the truth about something here!"

He glanced to Diego, then back to his sister. "I can't."

"That's not good enough."

Ellis' bottom lip jutted out in a childish manner, which didn't match the serious tone his next words came in. "Either you take that answer as is, or I stay."

"I could throw you over my shoulder like a sack of flour, kid. You're not gonna stop me from taking us outta here."

He glared, "do that, and I'll never say another word to you."

"Ellis..."

"I mean it."

"Kid, don't put your sister through this."

He fixed his stare on Diego, standing a pace behind Elodie. "You are not a part of this."

"Like hell I'm not? I—"

"—you walked out on her, what was it a decade ago? And the first second you're back, you screw up both our lives with your screwed up family. Your decision making skills have never been up to par regardless of that history, so—"

"—that's fucking enough, kid," Elodie snapped. Her palms burned, tingling with a familiar feeling of anger. But not one she'd ever felt towards her own baby brother. "You will watch your tongue if you want me to respect you and your stupid science project."

"You are not my mother," he pointed out, lip curling. "Remember? You don't get to parent me."

"I know that. I'm also the closest thing to a parent you've got."

"I didn't ask for that!"

"You didn't have to!" She roared back, throwing her hands in the air. Tears built in the corner of her eyes. "I — I gave up everything for you, Ellis. I killed myself, time and time again, to take care of you. To put clothes on your back, food on the table, to get you into those schools — you didn't have to ask for that shit, because I would have done anything for you, because that's what family does. We give, and we care, and we trust each-fucking-other!"

"Then why didn't you trust me?!"

Elodie sucked in a sharp breath.

It didn't take a genius to know what he meant.

She turned away, towards Diego. But she avoided his gaze and instead, looked at the floor, at her bare feet digging into the hardwood below them. The same fire building in her palms had flowed to her toes, burning in every crevice of her body until she felt like she was going to blow.

She wanted to. God, did she want to. A part of her brain ached to scream back — 'how dare you raise your tone? how dare you not be grateful? how dare you disrespect the only fucking good thing in your life?!'. She wanted to throw a fit like little Elodie never got to, and storm out and never look back. If Ellis wanted to ruin his life, why shouldn't she let him? Why shouldn't she put herself first?!

Soft, calloused fingers kissed her red-hot palm. Elodie hummed through a sob, and clutched on, even though she imagined it must hurt Diego to let her.

She tilted her head up, looking at her ex-partner. Without looking back, she spoke. 

"What do you need me to do to fix this, Ellis?"

ELLIS VERBECK WAS NOT THE BOY THAT HE HAD BEEN, when he first fell into 1960s Texas. Nor was he the young man a younger and more hopeful version of himself had wished he could be. He was sharpened, and cold, and there was a hand on his shoulder that wasn't his sister's anymore. 

As well as a voice, whispering in his ear at all times of the day, warning and pleading and asking him to trust her, as She had him. And where Ellis was kind, She was cold, and craved vengeance where the younger Verbeck wanted peace.

Good souls, as you might know, are always the easiest to manipulate.

But you'll know more about that mystery soon. For now, keep empathy in your mind, for though Ellis was being cruel, not all of it was his fault. And for now...they must leave their chapter with Richard Livingston behind.

HOURS LATER.
NOVEMBER 18th, 1963.

IT WAS JUST PAST MIDNIGHT OF THE NEXT DAY, when a dark, dimly lit silhouette finally left the house. They stalked over to where Diego and Ellis waited. In their hand was a single piece of paper.

As the figure drew closer, two things were made visible.

One, the hand holding the paper was gleaming violent orange, with veins of white-hot light running through the fingers and up their covered arm. The paper itself was smoking, slightly. The edges were burned. Otherwise it seemed untouched though, with its strange scribbles and symbols relatively intact.

Ellis gulped as he looked down, like he couldn't bear to see what was in front of him. His hands outstretched slowly, trembling. He took the paper like it would burn him. Honestly, he seemed surprised it didn't.

Diego sighed, a soft little sound barely audible in the darkness. He reached out and grabbed the woman, now clearly Elodie, wrapping her up in his arms.

She didn't move for a moment. There was no reaction, no recollection that anyone was even touching her. Elodie stood stock-still and stiff in his embrace. She stared straight ahead at something neither man could see.

She looked a mess. Her dress was torn. It wasn't the pretty, if not tacky gown she had worn to the gala anymore. It was a mess of scraps somehow still clinging to her burning form, like some sort of bear had literally mauled her. And her appearance otherwise suggested maybe she had had to fight the bear for her life. She was ash-grey and her normally perfect curls were a disaster.

But her eyes were embers of molten coal. Black and orange, gleaming into the night.

"I took care of it," Elodie said finally. She stepped out of Diego's embrace and her body did a sort of, full shudder, like she was shedding something. She rolled her neck and grinned. "Let's get out of her. I don't want to be here on my own fuckin' accord."

"Was it...?"

Elodie took Diego's hand in hers, squeezing softly. "I'll explain later. Don't worry about it."

SEVERAL HOURS BEFORE...

THERE WERE FEW THINGS THAT ELODIE VERBECK hated with more of a passion, than the scent of burning flesh. Because screams could be blocked out, and she could just close her eyes if she didn't want to see the writhing body aflame in front of her. But the smell lingered. It crept into every orifice. Clung to every pore, so all she could sense was pain, and the vehement act of cruelty she had just committed.

It had been a while since she had had to smell it. She wasn't used to it anymore. So unused, she had to turn away to vomit inches from the still-smoldering corpse and wipe her mouth on the hem of her scrapped dress, the only sign from a fight she wore.

But when she lifted back up —

— her eyes caught on a lone figure at the end of the hall, staring in horror at the desiccated corpse. At the murderer standing above him, wiping her lips and wearing a far too similar look of surprise as hers.

  There were few things Elodie hated more than the scent of burning flesh. But she would happily choose it over the look of pure disappointment steaming off of the newly orphaned Aimee Bayard, on the brink of November 18th, 1963.

Five Hargreeves had said she had the power to destroy the world. Elodie hadn't believed him much before. Hadn't wanted to.

But as she fled the scene of her heinous crime, she wondered just how soon it would be, before the next one, and why she wasn't losing her goddamn mind about the death now on her hands, and whether or not she'd get out of their situation...well...herself.

And what that philosophical, existential, completely terrible question actually meant anymore.

I didn't mean to take a totally different route with this chapter - I just knew I had way too much to cram into it, and wanted to make sure it was still...followable, ish. I'm not sure if I nailed that. It is meant to still be confusing, though, so if you ARE confused...probably good! 

Here's a summary though if you're lost: Benjamin proposed, Livingston invited Ellis and Elodie to the lil gala that Five, Lila and Diego were ALSO at (more on that next chapter, I swear that's not just it lol), Aimee and Elodie chat a little about how she's not thrilled to marry Ben, they go to the party and Elodie's promptly abandoned, she meets Grace, who then meets Diego, who Elodie intercepts as he tries to awkwardly flee. They talk, he later shows up at her place and tries to break her out. Ellis is resistant (who knows why??) and she has to convince him/get something back from Livingston. Then...Elodie heads out with the paper and sort of implies...well...you'll find out next chapter more details. 

Thank you for reading; let me know what you thought.