—chapter ten, or...

❛ two birds, no stone (PLEASE DON'T KILL MY BIRDS). ❜  

IT WAS QUIET.

All three individuals seemed exhausted, and all for different reasons. Elodie walked slumped against Diego the entire time, her arms wrapped around one of his like he might disappear at any second (and with the Umbrella Academy's track record, that was all too plausible). She kept an eye on her little brother, walking a few steps ahead of them, but she didn't hold onto him.

She wasn't necessarily mad at him. But she was worried, and she didn't know how to properly communicate that to her teenaged genius little brother/son she hadn't really asked for without losing him, so she kept quiet. Maybe he just needed space.

"Just a bit further," Diego mumbled next to her ear. He sounded exhausted too. Elodie could only imagine the adventures he had been on while they were apart. "'Round this way."

Both Verbecks followed him obediently.

The place Diego had been leading them to was not really what Elodie had had in mind. It was a small, non-descript television store tucked between a cleaning business and a drug mart. It had a giant unlit sign reading 'Morty's', with 'AM/FM Television & Radio' underneath it. A bunch of old pieces of technology Elodie only vaguely understood how to use sat in the window. 

She squinted at the sign in the door, hung up by a piece of twine. Closed. "Don't tell me you got into old TV's while here..."

"Nah. It's not like that." He shot her a quick half-smile, the corners of his lips curling up over his sharp teeth. "C'mon."

Diego pulled away to pull something out of one of his pocket — a key, Elodie noticed a moment later. She shuffled over to her brother's side as he fumbled with opening the door.

"You look tired," she said under her breath. Her hand shifted by her side, almost rising to pat the boy on the head or shoulder like she was so used to doing. But she stopped herself. "Can I do anything?"

Ellis shook his head. In the night, he looked a lot older than seventeen. The dim golden lighting highlighted the dark circles under his eyes — strange considering how much sleep the boy got lately — and the wear in his delicate skin. Once again, Elodie was reminded of how much he had changed from the little boy she had raised. She could barely recognise him anymore.

"I'm just tired," he said simply. He looked like he wanted to say more, but—

"Let's go," Diego called from the door.

Elodie nodded and gestured for Ellis to go first, following behind closely.

They didn't linger at the front. The Verbecks' hurried behind Diego like a pair of ducks following their mama, barely sparing glances to the random pieces of tech around them. One might think after spending three years in the past, Elodie would know a bit more about how anything worked, but she had to admit she was still totally clueless. It could be alien equipment for all she knew.

Ellis seemed a bit more intrigued, but not by much.

Diego headed up a set of stairs behind a door with 'employees only' plastered sloppily on it. The steps were linoleum and the paint was peeling, unkept unlike the front of the store. A strange smell of...something got stronger and stronger the more they climbed. Not a pleasant welcome, that was for sure.

At the top, Diego pushed open another door and gestured them through to the top floor. It was completely different than the store beneath them; Elodie could gather it was someone's home, probably whoever owned the place's. But...

"We're not squatting, right?"

Before Diego could protest, someone else spoke up.

"You're some of the others!"

Elodie whirled around to see a middle-aged man staring at them, completely wide-eyed and mouth agape. He didn't appear very interesting, dressed in a boring plaid and khakis. His hands twitched by his sides, but he didn't seem eager to hurt, just nervous. Still, she side-stepped in front of her brother. Just in case.

She ignored Ellis' protest.

"Who are you?" Also, 'some of the others'? Did Diego get chatty in the 60s? "What's going on?"

The man started and nodded. "Oh! Right, I'm - I'm Elliott. I, uh, I own Morty's. This is my place."

"Okay," Elodie responded cautiously. "What do you mean by 'the others'? Have we met?"

"No. Well, not officially! I watched you guys arrive. Before." Watching her face crumple into confusion and a great deal of concern, Elliott promptly rushed onto say, "I watched everyone though! It wasn't creepy! I just wanted to track you guys!"

"And that's not—"

"—it's a long story, but it's okay. He's with us," Diego cut in. "He's offered up his place for us to hideout in. He's on our side."

"Well, uh, sort of. I didn't realise...yeah. It's all good." Elliott didn't seem like he totally agreed with that sentiment, but another look from Diego and he quieted up. "Are you guys hungry? I think have some Jello...? Coffee?"

Elodie glanced down to her brother. He looked dead on his feet, and definitely not in the mood for Jello. Why just Jello, specifically? "I think we just need sleep."

"Oh. Sure! Yeah. I-I'll show you and your son to a room."

"Thanks." She patted her brother's shoulder, jostling him awake, and looked back to Diego. She crinkled her eyes and tried to smile, hoping her expression told him, 'I'll be right back and we can talk about the shitshow this time travel adventure has been babe, just got to make sure my brother goes to bed and doesn't like, decide to blow up Texas or something crazy'. "C'mon, Ellie."

He didn't even argue about the nickname. He must be tired.

The room Elliott showed them to seemed to be the only bedroom, which made Elodie wonder why in the hell this man allowed at least two members of the Umbrella Academy, plus her and her brother, into his home. Then again, without him they would be stranded in a home not their own and running from the law sooner than later, so she didn't complain.

"Thank you," she said sincerely to Elliott. Not that she really trusted the guy, but he was offering a place to her brother and he seemed harmless enough.

He just nodded and left.

Still strange, Elodie thought wearily. But definitely, unfortunately, not the strangest. Just...definitely gonna ask about the Jello. That sounds weird.

Ellis seemed more than ready to go to bed, with the way he kicked off his shoes and slumped onto the bed. The woman watched her brother not even bother to change, just throwing off his blazer and rolling under the covers with all the grace of a gangly teenager.

Without thinking, she moved towards him. "Let me tuck you in."

"I - what?"

"You've made a mess of the bed already, kid. Let me fix it."

Ellis frowned at her. He looked confused. "I can manage myself."

"I...I know, I just..." her throat felt tight, and there was a lump quickly rising to suffocate any words she wanted to say. Still, she tried to speak through it. "Just...for old times sake?"

Ellis looked at her for a moment longer. Then, quite exhausted, he fell back against the grey pillows and nodded.

Elodie reached behind her brother's head to adjust the pillows, fluffing them up to be more comfortable. She then folded the blanket around his lanky body and made sure he was covered all the way up to his neck.

She smiled wanly. God, it felt familiar. Considering she'd done the exact same thing a thousand times before, that wasn't hard to make sense of.

"You okay?"

Elodie dipped her head down, eyes meeting Ellis'.

"Deja vu," was all her brain could muster up. Though, she got the feeling Ellis didn't need more than that; they both felt the strange, almost suffocating feeling of nostalgia pressing into their war-worn skin.

Her little brother wasn't so little anymore. And that was life, that was how time worked — but she knew, and he probably knew, that it wasn't supposed to be so taxing. He was only seventeen; he should be enjoying high school, making friends and dreaming of adulthood. He shouldn't have dark circles dug like trenches under his eyes. He shouldn't avoid her gaze, or have to try and mask the clear betrayal he felt from her. God, he shouldn't have to hide things from her, period.

Elodie Verbeck barely knew her little brother anymore. And that was all her fault, wasn't it?

"I..." she hesitated, hands still half-assedly patting down the bedsheets. "I want you to know that I'm sorry, Ellis. I know that...I didn't want to hurt you like this." Like our father did almost slipped out with the words. "I'm really sorry."

The boy looked away. "We don't have to talk about this tonight."

"I don't think we have all the time to get into all of it, no. But you are owed an apology. I-I hate that you hate me."

"I don't hate you, Elodie."

"But you are mad," Elodie pointed out, "and hurt. And I can tell you don't trust me anymore. You...you don't look at me the same way you did before."

Ellis let out a soft, shaky exhale.

"You could've told me," he mumbled quietly, sounding more like the ten year old brother Elodie remembered so clearly, less like the almost-adult she couldn't fathom Ellis being anymore. "About what you were going through. I could've helped."

"I wanted to, I - God, kid, I wanted to. So badly. I just..."

"Just what?"

Elodie clenched her hands by her side. They burned, ever so slightly. "There's still so much you don't know. About me, and about your father, and about what I went through to get to this point. And there were times when I wanted to tell you everything, but there was never the right moment. Or you were too young. Or I was too hurt to even think about it, let alone tell you. I thought if I kept it from you, and just worked on fixing myself, that was the best strategy."

Ellis didn't say anything. He didn't look at her, either.

"I know that was wrong now. But — well, kid, you gotta realise I didn't really know what I was doing. For any of this. I-I've been dealing with life like I've got the worst hangover you can imagine for Christ knows how long, just hoping the headache's gonna go away. I didn't know what I was doing. I still don't, truth be told. But I knew that I was gonna do everything in my power to make sure you never had to deal with any of the shit I did. A-and I thought I was doing the right thing."

A small, resigned breath left Ellis' lips. "You should have still trusted me. With some of it."

Elodie's eyes squeezed tight shut, so hard her head pounded and tiny stars erupted behind her closed lids. "I know. Hindsight's an asshole with all it's 'twenty-twenty' crap. There's a lot of things I wish I did differently. I bet we all do, right?"

The boy didn't respond.

She relaxed her lids, still keeping her eyes shut. She sighed. "I think both of us, though, were keeping a lot from each other. For a long time and especially here. I-I don't think you or me knows what we're doing. This isn't normal for humans. 'Specially not for a kid who already got way too much responsibility on his shoulders. You should not be put in any situation like the kinds you are now. And I want you to know I'm deeply sorry for that, too."

"Being here is not your fault—"

"—but the way I've dealt with it is," Elodie finished before he could. "I have distanced myself from you and almost entirely destroyed our bond in the last three years of being here, thinking that I was doing the right thing, but I should have done more. I've watched you grow up from the corner of my eye into this wonderful young man, someone I'm so extremely proud of, but...I've lost the relationship I once had with him because I was too hung up on my own struggles."

"Elodie. That's— that's not exactly true."

She shook her head. "Don't make excuses for me. I know what I've done and who I am. A-and I want you to know, that from now on, I'm going to do everything I can to fix this. Fix us. Okay? I'll tell you everything and make sure we get back home, get back to our lives, get back to where we should be. Okay?!"

A small, almost inaudible sniffle came from in front of her. Elodie opened her eyes to see her little brother's eyes wide and tear-filled, with him anxiously rubbing at his nose.

"I'm sorry," Ellis whispered, swallowing back tears. 

"You don't have to be sorry, kid."

He shook his head. "I do. You have — I've screwed so much up. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"No, no. Please don't say that. Don't." She knelt by the side of the bed. Her hands extended, tentatively, to tent over his own clutched fists. "You're okay. You're not screwing anything up."

Ellis whimpered. "You don't know that."

"I...well, I guess not." Elodie snorted ruefully. "There's a lot I have questions about. But that all can be fixed. We'll both be honest with each other and fix this shit right up."

"You say it like it's simple."

She shrugged. "I'm not smart enough to see all the possible outcomes and what ifs. I know it's not gonna be simple simple, but I know that we're going to be able to fix this. We'll talk it all out and get back to where we used to be."

Ellis sniffled again. More and more, he looked and sounded like a kid again. "You really think that's possible?"

"Sure," she responded confidently. She didn't really feel confident; whatever Ellis was hiding from her sounded much bigger than she feared. And Elodie's skills only included bartending, housekeeping and incendiary bullshit. But she'd certainly try her best. "In the morning, we'll figure out a plan. And make everything right. Okay?"

The boy nodded slowly. "Okay."

Elodie lifted herself up from her kneeling position, wincing at how her leg muscles burned. "You should get some sleep. We all should. Okay? Then we can talk all about it in the morning, and I'll...I'm gonna make all of this right. I promise you, Ellis Verbeck, I'm gonna fix everything."

Ellis just looked up at her, in the sort of melancholic way she had seen many people do. The kind of look when the person is holding back an ocean of regret, and fear, and deep sadness they don't know how to put into words.

"We're going to be okay," she told him, tears springing at the corner of her eyes. She carefully wiped his own eyes with her sleeve. "We're going to be okay, Ellie."

The boy didn't look at all convinced, but he nodded anyways, "I'm going to try and sleep now."

"Okay. Sleep well, kid."

"You too."

With one final smile and a pat to his tousled waves, Elodie stood. She glanced back at him to see his eyes already fast shut. She watched him burrow down deeper under the covers, rustling around until he stopped, satisfied.

For a moment it felt like 2012 again. Back in her apartment, back in her old bedroom, making sure Ellis fell back asleep after a bad dream. He'd always crawl into her bed, so small and teary-eyed, silently asking for comfort. And she'd wipe his face and hold him tight, promising into his tiny curls that she'd never make him suffer the way their father did.

She blinked, and that old bedroom faded, along with the nostalgic golden joy it always seemed to have in its walls. Ellis was no longer seven but seventeen, older and wiser and hurt in so many different ways by the world she promised to shield him from. And she barely recognised the kid anymore, because he wasn't a child anymore but a young man teetering on the cliff of adulthood that he wasn't ready for.

He'd gone through so much in the past few years. Just as she had. But he wasn't supposed to. He wasn't supposed to have to suffer, like I have, Elodie thought to herself.

She sniffled and turned away. The bedroom door shut carefully behind her, leaving behind her sleeping stranger.

"Thank you," she murmured to Elliott as she rounded the corner. "I'm sure he'll appreciate an easy night's rest."

The man's eyes glimmered with a sort of childlike joy. "Of course! I'm glad. I hope he's comfortable."

Elodie didn't say anything to that, just offering a tight smile. She slipped past him to find Diego leaning up against a worn armchair, arms crossed. He looked as tired as she felt, but still he offered her the same easy smile he always did.

Some things never changed.

"Hey," he said quietly. His hand extended; it rested awkwardly on her bicep, like it wasn't really sure where it was going, or if it still had the clearance to continue. "You okay?"

That question itself was too loaded and too obviously 'no' for her to really consider answering properly. But that was usually, sort of the point with those questions. Gentle, caring placeholders for answers too heavy for tired, aching souls.

"Yeah," Elodie whispered back. She crept closer, eager for warmth from something familiar.

Diego's hand slipped down from her bicep to her waist, pulling her into his body. He unfurled so she could fall into him and they intertwined like two pieces falling back into their proper places. His hands on her hip and the small of her back, resting where her curves concaved. Her hands ran up his shoulders, his neck, feeling the hair that had grown so long since the last time they had properly embraced. Back in 2019 she could only feel ticklish roots on the nape of his neck, buzzed and styled so carefully. His pride was poured into his appearance. He never wanted to look like he felt: like he didn't know what he was doing.

But here, in a year that wasn't their own, his hair was shoulder-length and coarse, curling around her fingers unnaturally. And his stubble had thickened into a full beard, or at least the start of a clumsy one. His skin was worn and wrinkles she didn't recognise had dug their way into the corners of his eyes and the sides of his mouth.

Elodie looked up to his eyes, finding him already looking down to her. They hadn't changed on her, at least. Still warm brown like how he took his coffee when they lived together, sitting together at their kitchen table like there wasn't a care in the world. Still framed so delicately with eyelashes she envied, and still alive, filled to the brim with emotions he didn't know how else to express. 

She still couldn't understand everything his eyes were saying. But at least that same curiosity inside of her, and his quiet desire to share, still sat there.

"We should talk," she said, dipping her eyes from his. She stared at his barely exposed collarbone. Her hands slipped from him, to her sides again. "Yeah?"

"Do we have to?"

"I think we do. And I think you do too."

Diego huffed like the start of a laugh, but he wasn't smiling. "You were always right, between us."

"I THINK I'M OLDER THAN YOU NOW, Y'KNOW."

Diego snorted. "Oh, yeah?"

"Well, I'm judging by...everything, that I landed 'fore you did."

"When'd you land?"

"1960. You?"

"'63."

"I was right then."

He nodded, glancing away. 

They had climbed up to the top of Elliott's building. He had offered to just leave the room, for them to pretend like 'he wasn't ever there', but...yeah, that felt a little hard to do, under his ever-curious gaze. Elodie had a feeling they were the most exciting thing to ever happen to the poor guy, and she felt bad, but not bad enough to invite him along.

"I have to ask," Elodie said, filling their tense silence, "what got you committed?"

"I...we, we don't need to get into that."

"What? C'mon, I gotta know."

"No, no you do not 'gotta know'!"

"Please?" She turned to him and jabbed a finger into his bicep. He groaned. "We'll trade! I just want to know!"

"You're so nosy — can't we just say 'it's a long story' and move on?"

Elodie shook her head quickly. "That only works in movies. And considering communication's always been the weak point in our relationship," she tried not to stumble over that word, but it was hard when it'd been so long since she could refer to them like that, "I don't want to have secrets."

Diego rolled his eyes, but it seemed all in good fun, what with the easy smile on his face. "Sure. Play that card."

"It's not a ca-ard, I'm just being honest!"

"Right." 

Diego didn't say anything else for a long moment. His face remained forward, painting a strong silhouette against the glow of Houston lights. The profile was softened though, not the harsh outline it used to be. Maybe that was just the long hair and grown out-facial hair. But he seemed wearier. Softer.

Just before Elodie could interrupt their pregnant pause, crack a joke to cut tension, Diego spoke instead.

"Okay. Well. Long story short, I had good reason. I swear, not that much of an idiot."

She jabbed his arm. "You're not an idiot."

"Yeah. You say that, but I feel like you'd change your mind if you knew the truth."

"What, about you trying to save the president? 'Cause I kinda gleaned that, already."

Diego baulked and glared down at her smirking face. "The hell you'd hear that from?!"

"You made the front page, eejit," she laughed tiredly. "I just wanna know like, past the headline sentence, 'cause I didn't get a chance to read past that."

"Crissakes, baby!"

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think you're an idiot!"

Diego rolled his eyes but accepted her gentle shoulder rubs. "Yeah, yeah. Then you get the point. I was going to cut Oswald's trigger finger off, but I was clumsy, pro'lly 'cause I was just dropped in a whole new time, and—"

"—wait," Elodie cut in, stopping her gentle touch. "You-you were just going to cut his finger off?"

"Yeah."

"Why?!"

"We-I-he wouldn't be able to shoot, then!"

"What about the other hand?! Or his other fingers?!"

"That's not — that's not how that works!"

"I feel like it kinda is, if you're trying to kill the goddamn president!"

Diego huffed. He wore a pretty prominent pout. "Christ. Y'know, that's what Lila said too. You —  you just don't get it."

Elodie's smile wavered.

"Lila?"

"Uh — yeah."

Something lingered with that name. She mouthed it to herself, tasting the syllables. It was a cute name. The kind of name that usually came with a cute face, someone witty and lively. No one had to be a detective to gauge when an ex-partner stuttered over a random girl's name, that there was something there. Something they probably didn't want you to know about.

Problem was, Elodie couldn't even be mad. Sure her brain was immediately up in arms about whoever the hell this Lila was, but considering she was a 'yes' and an 'i do' away from becoming a Mrs. Benjamin Bayard? Yeah. Not really place to judge.

The air was tense. She cleared her throat. "Cool. We...well, so that's, that's how you got committed?"

"Elodie, I..."

"It's okay," she hurried. She wanted to turn, look him in the eyes and promise she wasn't jealous or hurt or pissed off. But she wasn't confident she had the energy to lie. "I don't mind. I mean, we all had to survive, and I'm sure we all had like, people we met that we, you know, uh, made connections of like ANY kind with, and I don't know why I'm still talking but—"

"—Lila was just a friend."

Elodie stopped talking. But her heart didn't stop pounding.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. Guilt.

"I swear. We met in the asylum. For some reason she saw me and was like, yeah, that's the person I want to spend my miserable days with in here. And then," she heard him rustling, adjusting himself on the ledge. "I spent all my time tryin' to get out. To get back to you. Took months, and help. From you, n'then Lila. Also, there were some creepy European motherfuckers. Real Grady twins, if they were Norwegian and there were three of them? Tried to kill us that night."

She blinked. "You're really speeding through this story."

But Diego didn't stop. If anything, that spurred him off faster, like he had somewhere to be in the next thirty seconds. "Yeah. So me and Lila run away. She screws up my second plan to save JFK, and Five finds us, rounds us up and takes us to this safehouse, if you could call it that. Apparently some nutjob gave the kid the Frankel Footage before he died. And, and t-then it turns out Dad was there, and he's in on the goddamn assassination, so we go and try and stop him, which of course doesn't work 'cause it's my Dad, and he's always so--so--"

His rant turned into splutters. His frantic retelling nonsense as it spits out fragments of sentences, trying to talk through clear panic. At that point, Elodie had turned to see him, but it didn't even matter because he wouldn't look at her, just kept staring off, hands flying everywhere and jaw held tight, flexing in anger.

"Diego..."

"The guy stabbed me, y'know?" He slapped his thigh, only to groan in immediate pain. "Fuck! He didn't — I don't know why — stabbed me right through. And then Lila betrayed us too — god, that really hurt — and Five won't fucking listen, and I just — Christ — can't do anything right, ever!"

"Hey, what? That's not true!"

He didn't answer, or even show he heard. Diego turned away, throwing his body off the ledge and towards a dilapidated table and chairs. He grabbed a sad looking chair and launched it towards the wall; it bounced rather stupidly. He tossed another.

"Diego!"

"I have screwed up every," he kicked at one of the chairs, cursing right after, "single," another kick, another groan of pain, "thing. Everything! I-I can't, I had to be saved! Every time! I couldn't — I couldn't — I-I-I c-c-can't..." 

"Hey, stop!"

"I-I don't even know, know what I'm—"

"—Diego, shut the fuck up right now."

To her surprise, the stern tone actually worked. He stopped talking, but he didn't turn towards her, shoulders heaving and falling angrily.

Honestly, it wasn't the way Elodie was planning the night to go. But after her little spiel on communication? And knowing their past? She wasn't going to complain about Diego being vulnerable with her.

Here's hoping I know how to be a comforting person, she thought before getting off the ledge herself. She walked over to where he stood, facing away. She shuffled in front; his head turned away.

Elodie reached up to Diego's face, forcing him to look back to her. "Hey," she said, sternly. Tears reflected unshed in his eyes. He looked so, so tired. "You're okay. You're not an idiot. You're not screwing shit up."

"T-that's not true," he muttered angrily.

"It is. Because unless one of your other siblings got their author on, there's no guide for this kind of thing! People aren't made for time travel and apocalypses and crazy space time lords who wanna take out humanity! And-and you're stuck in the worst possible situation, just trying to make things right. You're trying to be the good guy. 'Cause that's what you are."

Diego's jaw rippled under her fingers, facial hair tickling the pads. "Yeah. I tried. And I've failed."

"No, you haven't!" 

"Elodie."

She shook her head determinedly. Tears were threatening to build in her eyes, then, but she blinked them back. This wasn't about her. "You saved me. You saved my brother. You're trying to save the world now, aren't you? And the freakin' president, all at once. And stop your dad, too, which like, come the fuck on! I get it, that's like trauma central!"

"I failed—"

"—so?! You're still trying. You're human, Diego. Mistakes will happen. Sometimes people come and they take advantage of your beautiful bleeding heart and I-I," she paused to chuckle mirthlessly, "I think I'd know that better than anyone. That you're too good, sometimes, for the rest of the world."

Diego shook his head weakly. "Don't say that."

"I'm not saying anything that isn't true. Okay?" She cradled his jaw in her hands, trembling, trying to make him look at her. The pads of her thumbs brushed over his cheeks. Over the tiny crinkles at the sides of his eyes. Over the corner of his lips, bloodied and curled down. "Please, don't think that you're any of those things you said. You're just human. And you're trying to do what kind of feels like the impossible. No one should fault you for that."

He sniffled. His eyes shut tight, scrunched so his tears wouldn't leave. But one fell, gracefully slipping off the apple of his cheek and down to meet Elodie's finger.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Her hands fell from his face to his shoulders. She laced them around his neck and as tightly as she could, held him. Her chest slammed against his own; both of their hearts pounded erratically, off-beat and frustrated. "I'm so sorry, baby, that you had to deal with that. And all of this alone. You didn't deserve it."

"Elodie..."

She hummed and squeezed him harder. "Shush. Don't argue with me. You can't say anything that'll make me think I'm not right."

He snorted; the motion made his chest vibrate in an oh-so-familiar sensation Elodie thought she had lost. It felt kind of like home. "You're too stubborn."

"And I have a right to be right now. Okay? You are a good guy, Diego Hargreeves, and you don't deserve any of this crap."

He paused, swallowing before softly saying, "neither of us do."

She nodded into his shirt. It didn't smell like the Diego she remembered, but she breathed in anyways, trying to pretend like they were back in 2019 and happy. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could open her eyes and see herself in their living room again. Photos of her and Diego and Ellis on the walls and on the mantles, artificial fire roaring below. Maybe they'd have updated ones. Pictures of her in a white dress, him in a tux. Ellis' trophies from high school competitions, the ones he used to love.

Elodie shut her eyes, nuzzling into his chest further. "I'm glad we found each other again."

"Yeah. M-me too. Dunno what I would'a done without you."

"Oh? You're telling me you didn't want to hang out with Lila instead? She sounds hot."

"Fuck off, you." But he held onto her tighter. "There's no one else for me."

That vague feeling of guilt grew into something sharper. It poked at Elodie's brain, asking to be considered properly. Her jealousy wasn't justified if she spent years with a guy that wasn't Diego, and definitely not in a friendly way. Sure, she could say she didn't care about him, that it was just for survival purposes but she still kissed him. Still almost got engaged to him. And would she have? If things hadn't worked out like this?

At that moment, Elodie made a very brash and perhaps very stupid decision, spurred on by the nervous question Diego Hargreeves asked right before.

"So, uh, wa...was there anyone for you?"

She froze. Her eyelids sprung open, leaving her to stare bug-eyed at the Houston skyline. What would be easier. Answering honestly, or launching off the roof right now?

"What do you mean?"

Diego shifted beneath her hold. "Well, you were here for three years. And alone. I wouldn't blame you if, i-if say there was someone."

"Oh."

"I mean, I-I don't even know what we are anymore. Didn't really label ourselves in the apocalypse. So if say, you had found a partner, without me, I'd get it. It," he stopped to chuckle, but it was bitter and contrived. "It'd make sense. Pretty thing like you."

Elodie pulled away from Diego. She looked up to his face to find him already looking down at her with a frown. His brows had been furrowed dark over his pretty eyes, shadows dancing over his delicate features.

"I," she paused, glancing down to her hands. They were awkwardly outstretched still towards him, but not touching anymore. Her palms itched and burned, the ever-familiar feeling that came whenever there was a difficult choice. "I think we both, have gone through a lot. We both have pretty colourful stories to exchange. I mean, I'd tell you that I think at one point I literally met Death herself, but would you believe me? Probably not. 'Specially considering she was like, a nine-year old girl with a bicycle?"

"I —  what?!"

She shrugged. "Long story in itself. I'll explain that later. Right now, I want you to know there's no one in my life that could replace you, or has replaced you." That wasn't really a lie, was it? "I swear. And I know in this whole shitshow we didn't really have a chance to talk about what we want to be, but as cheesy as this is going to sound? I don't want anyone else but you. I don't think I ever will."

That wasn't a bad answer. She never had. All the letters she had wrote to Diego proved that,  even if they were ashes in the bottom of a trash bin. Ben Bayard was kind, but his eyes didn't reflect much more than a shallow pool of emotions, and his hands showed he had never had to work a day in his life. He didn't interest her and he certainly didn't entrance her like the stupid vigilante that used to wear sunglasses at nights, even when walking into a run-down bar called Wallow's.

Five knew — but Five didn't care. He was just some crotchety old gaffer stuck in an endless puberty cycle and way too focused on the end of the world to care about her love life. And Ellis, she could worry about Ellis later. He would understand. He probably would encourage it. He liked Diego. And had he ever really even noticed Ben's and her's relationship, anyways?

Elodie exhaled shakily and reached for one of Diego's hands. She wrapped her fingers around his, feeling over all the tiny scars he had accumulated over the years. Some of them she didn't recognise. Surely there were stories for them all.

"I want to get out of this mess with you. And I want to go home with you, too. Try and make us work again. I miss seeing you in our home. Even if that means you bleeding on my carpet, 'cause I can invest in quality stain remover! Or get a new rug. Maybe a red one. I don't know, I don't know why I'm talking about rugs because they aren't really what I'm thinking about, but—"

"—I think we're on the same page then," Diego interrupted quietly. "I want that too. I don't think I want to be without you again."

Elodie laughed lowly. "We sound like such saps. Like a Hallmark movie come to life."

"Yeah, so what? I think we've kinda earned our Hallmark moment."

"Y'think?"

"Sure. We're much more interesting, too." His other hand rose to cradle hers. He was so cold. He always felt cool, against her constantly burning flesh. "None of those movies have apocalypses and time travel stories."

Elodie's smile grew. "Good point. And to think, we're probably only in the middle of the plot. What more could come?"

"Don't say that," he groaned, tugging her a little closer. "Let's pretend this is all over now. I'm tired."

Her free hand rose up again, cradling around his neck. She played with the loose hairs at the nape. "Never thought I'd hear the Diego Hargreeves say that he was tired. You're getting old."

"If I'm old, you're a fucking fossil, baby."

"I — damn, that's your line?"

Diego snorted. Somehow he was still pulling her closer, even though it felt like they were practically intertwined. He nosed at the side of her jaw, lips brushing. "Didn't realised I needed a line for you. Thought you were already head over heels for me."

"I'm not gonna be if you're calling me old, you crusted, busted—"

Elodie never finished her teasing taunt. The words were almost literally swallowed by Diego's hungry lips enveloping her own. Not that she was complaining. She pulled his head down closer to hers, nails scraping at the back of his neck. He pulled at her bottom lip, sucking it in between his own.

She pulled away to suck in a quick breath of air. "We should probably talk more."

"Mm. Yeah. That might be healthy."

"Communication's very important."

"Sure." Diego didn't look away from her lips. "It doesn't sound as fun as kissing you, though."

Elodie smiled and leaned back in to kiss him. Somehow he was even hungrier now, like a starving man falling upon his last meal. He suckled hard on her lip and her body reacted without her mind, keening into his hold. 

His hands fell from her back to her thighs, running up her skirt until he could feel her bare skin underneath. "Jump," he muttered against her mouth.

God, she had a hot ex-fiancé-turned-potentially-dating-again.

Elodie's thighs wrapped around Diego's waist and with a slight stumble over a chair, he forced them both forward to the wall opposite them. Her back collided harshly; she let out a huff, though it was quieted once more by his lips.

She wrapped her legs around him tighter and rolled her body against his. There was nothing like Diego Hargreeves, Elodie told herself; not physically either. The roughness of his gestures, even as he tried to be gentle. The way his lips moved against hers, tongue rolling around the back of her gums and tasting her own pink, saliva-wet muscle. The way his goddamn hands, long and so beautiful, stroked her bare thighs, reminded her of how many nights back in 2019, where he would reach and fold those long, delicate fingers inside—

THWOOP.

"Really, guys?"

"Eegh!"

In a scramble of limbs and flower print Elodie and Diego sprung apart. She slipped out of his hold and held her dress down in front of her legs, ignoring the goosebumps that built on the cold skin, now without warm hands to hold them. She wiped at her mouth.

Diego looked similarly messed up, with slightly swollen, pouted lips and half a dozen curses mumbled at his adopted brother's surprise visit. He adjusted his clothes and ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.

"What's wrong with you?" He grumbled.

The boy/man smirked wearily. "My sincere apologises; I wasn't aware you'd booked out this roof to paw at each other like dogs."

"God, your brother's obnoxious," Elodie muttered to Diego, earning herself a snort. She glared at the kid/not a kid. "What do you need, Five?"

Five shrugged. He kicked at a rock. "Checking in. Wanted to know how your romantic rescue gesture went."

Elodie had a funny feeling he knew more than he was letting on, like somehow Five had seen what went down already. Had he paid a visit to the Livingston house? Seen the desiccated corpse? God forbid he'd just been creeping the entire time. That didn't sound likely, but either way...

"Still curious how you got caught up in that house," Five said with a carefully nonchalant air. "I'd imagine there's an interesting story there."

Her hands twisted around each other. "I promise you, there's not."

"Really? Working for one of the biggest Texan families? Not to mention one of the Majestic Twelve members. And the arrangement between the Bayards, too?"

"You're asking for information I'm sure you already have, buddy." Elodie smiled sarcastically at the smaller guy. "Considering you know all about the Magical Twelve and I know jack-all."

"Majestic, genius."

"Is there anything I can actually help you with?"

Five looked at her for a long moment.

His eyes narrowed.

Then,

"in the morning. We need to start planning our next steps. And," he paused to look pointedly at the both of them, "I expect you'll both cooperate. We don't have much time to waste."

With that, Five disappeared in a poof of blue wisps.

Elodie blinked and glanced over to Diego. "Well..."

"He's such a dick," he grumbled. He leaned over to press his forehead into her shoulder. "I just want to strangle him sometimes."

She turned her head, pressing a gentle kiss to his hair. "I can't say I blame you. But, at least he can get us back to our real lives."

"Maybe."

"Isn't he the reason we're here?"

"Yeah, but none of us know if he can do it again, or if there won't be...consequences again."

Elodie huffed. "I hate time travel."

"You n'me both, baby."

She kissed his head again and tried to get the annoyingly all-knowing expression Five Hargreeves always seemed to wear out of her head. You're here, you're safe, you're with Diego, she consoled herself. And soon, you'll get to leave 1963 in the past and get back to your normal life. 

No more schemes or plots to save the world. No more secrets.

Five's words from nights before worried her, though. And the way he had looked at her. Going on about her abilities like he knew her — and the way he talked seemed like he actually did. 'In another timeline' — what did that even mean? What was he trying to unpeel from her skin as he looked her over? What did he know?

"You okay?"

"Hm? Yeah. I'm okay."

"Don't worry about Five," Diego said against her skin. "He just likes pretending like he knows everything. He's just as in the dark as the rest of us."

Yeah, Elodie had a bad feeling that was definitely not the case.

Je suis dépressive, car je ne peux rien finir. Mais, je ne peux rien finir, car je suis dépressive. Que une vie de merde.

Unedited.