▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

❛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴛʏ ᴍᴄғʟʏ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ɢᴏᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ꒱　


❝ YOU'RE ON YOUR
OWN, PAL ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Soft, golden light filled the courtyard of her childhood home as a warm breeze blew across the enclosed space. It had been such a nice day that Alexa had been loath to spend their half-hour of free time in a dark, musty library and she'd dragged Five outside with her much to his irritation.

Still, he couldn't help but realize that the blanket on the grass and the plate of fresh strawberries looked nice in the sunlight and, as Alexa sat down on the checkered cloth, he had to admit that she did, too. With a sigh of reluctance, he sat next to her.

The blonde-haired girl reached for a red strawberry and plucked it up by its green stem. She popped it in her mouth, her eyes closing as she ate the sweet fruit. They sat like that for a few minutes while they enjoyed the fresh air and snack before Alexa got a brilliant idea.

The girl jumped to her feet and gave a 'wait here' signal to the boy before she disappeared inside only to return moments later with a small tub of something in her hands. She sat down next to him again and, opening the container, he saw that she'd brought sugar out with her.

"I didn't know we were inviting ants to our picnic as well," he grumbled.

Alexa rolled her eyes. "It's not for the ants, you nerd. It's for us. Watch." Then, she gently dipped the tip of the strawberry in the sugar and lifted it towards his face. "Open up."

He wrinkled his nose. "Are you trying to give me diabetes?"

She gave a little sigh and her expression turned pouty. "Could you not be an old man for literally one minute? I know you're mad about the lost library time but now you're ruining this time too."

As hard as he tried, he couldn't fight the sudden guilt welled in him. Five knew she was playing on his emotions as she so often did to get her way but it was his own fault for encouraging it every time. Sighing again, he opened his mouth. Alexa beamed at him and gently moved the strawberry closer so he could take a bite. The boy winced at the too-sweet taste but forced it down, his following shudder causing her to laugh. He gave her an irritated look. "There, happy now?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Quite!" Then, after glancing left and right quickly, she leaned forward and followed the path of the fruit to give him a quick peck on the lips.

The sound of the radio turning on startled her as it did every morning and Alexa groaned from her bed. Her dream had been so nice. She'd been having quite a few of them since she'd arrived in the sixties and they'd all involved Five. That was no surprise there, though.

Sighing, she rolled over and stretched. Another day, another routine. For the past nearly three years, she'd woken up at seven-fifteen and her days had all followed the same pattern. After getting out of bed, Alexa went to her closet and decided on her outfit of choice, pulling out a loose, dark blue dress with a wide, white collar and matching cuffs with a skirt that ended at her knees. Then she located a pair of dark, low-heeled shoes and slipped them on.

After completing her morning routine, she locked up the small, nearly bare apartment and left at promptly seven forty-five. She made her way to the alleyway she'd arrived in to pause for five minutes to see if anyone appeared. No one had yet and today was no different. She turned away and across the street to Stadtler's where she was greeted in the same way every day by the man who'd grown used to her appearance. "Same order, Miss Hargreeves?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, sir." She ignored the bitter taste in her mouth as she gave the formal title. While she waited for her items, her blue eyes darted up to the 'Whites Only' sign that was the cause of her irritation. It had been a punch to the gut to see such blatant racism in action and she could only hope Allison wasn't faring too badly wherever she was.

The man behind the counter slid the items over to her: an egg sandwich, a morning blend of herbal tea and coffee, black— and she left at exactly eight-oh-five. After that, Alexa made her way downtown to her place of work. Jennifer, Juniors was a small, well-known dressmaking company owned by Abraham Zapruder. Being underage (even at her falsely stated age of seventeen, although now more truthful than when she'd started) she was only an intern but Zapruder was impressed by her work and allowed her to take on several independent projects.

As well he should be, really. She had nearly twenty-five years' worth of experience of creating art in a now-teenager's body. 

The bell to the office jingled merrily as she pushed the door open. The secretary, Marilyn, was at her desk as usual. "Good morning Alexandra!" the older woman greeted her.

Alexa gave her a bright smile. "Morning, Marilyn."

"Ah, that smile. A breath of sunshine in an otherwise dreary morning."

The blonde-haired girl laughed. "The day's that bad already?"

"Your appearance just makes it better," Marilyn said lightly. Then she noticed the items in her hand. "Shall I hold the coffee for you as usual?"

"Yes, please." Alexa handed the hot drink over to the secretary. "If he comes—"

"—I'll be sure to get him right away," the redhead finished. "Yes, yes, I know the drill. You've only said it everyday."

The blonde blew out a rush of breath. "I'm sorry, Marilyn. I just don't want him to leave before I can see him."

While it wasn't likely that Five would find her at the workplace, she had to be ready for any possibility. Besides, if she could claim to know him at all, he'd probably somehow manage to get either this address or her home one; he was resourceful (or lucky) like that. He was also the only one of all her siblings that she still held out a large percentage of hope for; he had yet to appear through his own time-portal.

"Not to worry, dear," the older woman reassured her. "The boss is in today, by the way. Would you mind trying to convince him to bring that camera to the parade? This is going to be a historic event! Apparently, he's set on experiencing it in the moment." The last part was said with a tinge of sarcasm.

"Of course, I'll do my best," Alexa promised. "I'll check in with him now."

She moved further into the office and waited at the left-hand door after she knocked. When the man inside gave his assent, she pushed open the door. "Morning Mr. Zapruder."

The bespeckled man looked up from his work. "Good morning, Miss Hargreeves."

Getting right down to business, she asked, "any new assignments?"

Mr. Zapruder nodded and rifled through a few papers before finding the correct one. "An order for an umbrella patterned dress arrived at close of business yesterday. The buyer doesn't want the shape to be too obvious, though. He's giving you some leeway in the design. He wants it by week's end."

The girl took the order from him and examined the written words which were exactly as the man had described. "Alright, then. I'll get right to work. By the way, Marilyn wanted me to ask you to bring your camera to the parade."

He snorted slightly. "Not you, too. Everyone's been on me about that. Filming is only a pastime and I don't want to miss the actual parade. It's going to be historic."

Alexa gave him a soft smile. "You have no idea," she said, honestly— although he didn't know her double meaning. "We'll wear you down sooner or later, Mr. Zapruder. See you at lunch, then. "

He nodded in agreement and turned back to his papers as Alexa left the room and crossed the small space to push open her own office door. As the only (and youngest) intern, she'd been given a space of her own but the smallest one they'd had available. She didn't mind, though. Over the past few years, she'd grown to appreciate the sight of dressmaking equipment and scattered samples of designs everywhere. She sat down at her desk with a sigh and cleared away some of the older patterns she'd created and got to work.

After taking her lunch break at noon, Alexa returned to her desk and spent five more hours messing with the umbrella design until she got a halfway decent outline. She'd even had the clever idea to make the hem of the dress scalloped like the edges of the umbrella itself.

Standing, she stretched and cleaned up her space for the evening. After saying her goodbyes, she made her way back to the familiar alley but this time, instead of standing outside, she went in and up the stairs to the dentist's office on the second floor.

A rather scrawny man opened the door and jumped. "Ah, Miss Hargreeves, I wasn't— um, I wasn't—"

She rolled her eyes. "You never know when to expect me, Elliot. That's the whole point of random appearances. Let me in."

Her approach might've seemed harsh but she was familiar enough with the man now that she knew how to handle his distrustfulness and hesitancy. The door opened wider and she walked in, looking around the space she'd become accustomed to. "Any sightings?"

The man followed behind her as he wrung his hands slightly. "No. No sightings. Not since the October one."

As always, the pang of loss stung sharply. Vanya. She'd been so, so close. She'd only missed her sister by a day. She pushed it aside in favor of locating the notebook she'd been using to document her time. Picking up a nearby pencil, the blonde flipped the open the book to her most recently-used page. In a series of dots and dashes, she wrote:

November 11, 1963.

Day 1,369.

No further news on family. Normal day. Zapruder still unconvinced about camera. Otherwise, timeline is still intact as far as I know. Will come again 11/19/63.

At the end of her entry, Alexa drew a tiny symbol of the umbrella from her childhood with the only change being a number eight inscribed in the hood part of the image. She shut the book with a snap and turned back towards the hovering man.

"You know the drill, Elliot. I'll be back so make sure you leave some way for me to get inside. I wouldn't want to have to blast down your door."

"Of course, Miss Hargreeves. Is there anything else—"

Alexa turned on her heel and made her way to the door. "Nope."

☂☂☂

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Five demanded as soon as he and Hazel reappeared.

"The end of the world November 25, 1963."

"'63?" Five asked with a scoff. "You know, Hazel, I'm no history buff but I don't recall there being a nuclear Holocaust."

"No shit."

"What about my family?"

"Dead, like everyone else."

"And where am I now?"

"Dallas, same street. Ten days earlier," Hazel answered as he moved to sit on the bench. "Plenty of time to restore the timeline and save them."

"Okay," Five agreed as he sat down next to him. "So where do we start?"

"'We?' You're on your own, pal. I'm just here to keep a promise to Agnes."

The boy hesitated. ". . .is she—"

"Dead," the man confirmed. "Cancer. Took her quick, but we had twenty good years together. I guess forever just wasn't in the cards."

"I'm sorry, Hazel." He hesitated. "What about The Commission?"

"I quit those assholes, remember? I don't owe them fuzz off my peaches."

Five turned his gaze to the approaching white-haired men. "Well, then who the hell are those guys?"

In unison, the trio raised their guns to take aim. Hazel slipped a box into Five's pocket as he shouted: "run!" Hazel handed him the briefcase. Screams sounded from the street as the gunfire rained down on the older man, the younger disappearing in a flash of blue light.

Five reappeared behind an old car and clutched the bullet-riddled briefcase. "How many times did I say bullet-proof briefcases?" he exclaimed in exasperation as he peered over the hood of the car.

He gasped and ducked when he realized the men were much closer than he'd thought. He disappeared in another flash of blue as the trio poked around where he'd been seconds before. The boy landed back-flat on the rooftop and sat up quickly, letting out a relieved breath at his quick escape. He stood and turned to spacial jump back down to the street but one of his hands slipped into his pants' pocket, causing him to jerk slightly at the brush of paper against his fingertips.

Immediately, he remembered future-Alexa pushing the scrap into the palm of his hand as bullets fired around them and the urgency in her tone as she'd told him to get out. His hand clenched around the paper and he brought his fist out to carefully unfurl the note.

The side facing him read I'll be back in his own handwriting. That can't be right, he thought, confused for only a second before he flipped it over to the previously-blank side. There, in the familiar language of dots-and-dashes, was an address: 501 Elm Street, Dallas, TX.