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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ ꒱


❝ I WAS REALLY ROOTING FOR
HARGREEVES FAMILY HONOR ❞

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Unexpectedly, they found Luther in a bar later that afternoon. It was dark and rather dingy as they entered and the sudden light change from the brightness outside made Dolores pause a moment while she waited for her eyes to adjust. Then, she saw Luther sitting by himself at a table drinking a pint of beer. His expression turned extremely displeased as he laid eyes on his family.

"Look!" Klaus exclaimed, pointing him out despite the fact that everyone could see him. As they approached his brother's table, he continued: "trying a little hair of the dog, are we?"

"Leave me alone," Luther grunted. Diego ignored his order and sat next to him. 

"Give us a minute," he told the other three as he placed his gloves on the table.

"Gladly," the brunette mumbled, giving Luther a look of great dislike.

"Come on," Klaus agreed, placing a hand on her shoulder (he quickly removed it when he caught sight of Five's warning look.) "Maybe they'll brood each other to death."

They didn't have to wait long as Diego got to the point, with Luther suddenly exploding, "you should have lead with that!" before he scrambled out of his chair. "Jesus Christ."

As he made for the exit, the rest of the group hurried to follow him. Despite the gravity of the situation, Dolores smirked slightly as Luther pulled the door off its hinges, finding the inconvenience of his super strength mildly amusing.

✧✧✧

The car continued to follow the path Allison had taken as the light outside dimmed and the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The scenery changed as well, from city buildings and roads to trees and slightly less well-kempt paths. The car was completely silent except for the radio that was playing a quiet song in the background. The air was thick and tense, almost stifling. Dolores wished she could open a window but was half-afraid to ask the question, so she remained silent.

The three Hargreeves brothers were crammed in the backseat with Klaus in the middle while Dolores sat up front with Five as he drove, claiming she was "least distracting." Luther had proved this point to be true by asking his brother to speed up about every ten minutes while annoyingly tapping his foot against the floor with impatience. 

He leaned forward again. "Hey, can you go any faster?"

Five kept his eyes on the road as he answered evenly, "ask me that again and I'll have Dolores burn you with a cigarette lighter."

The brunette turned to give the larger man her version of Five's most feral smile. "And I'll make sure it's nice and hot."

She was pleased when he paled slightly and sat back, crossing his arms like a toddler pouting over not getting his way. She turned back around and crossed her own arms but in a smug sort of way that made him glower at her headrest. However, as they got closer to the cabin, any individual negative feelings turned into a collective sense of overwhelming dread. Their car pulled up in the Jenkins' driveway next to Allison's, but the cabin's lights were off as if no one were inside.

Luther was first to the door, of course, and wasted no time in throwing the door open. He froze in the entrance and cried, "Allison! No!" His voice cracked as he stumbled inside.

Diego and Klaus followed him quickly, leaving Five and Dolores to be the last ones to enter. She made her way around the taller Hargreeves for better viewing and immediately wished she hadn't. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight of so much red. Allison's throat had been slashed and the wound had poured a steady amount of blood over her chest, staining her once white top a rather disgusting shade of reddish brown.

"Good God," Dolores muttered. Her hand went to cover her mouth, both in hopes of keeping her stomach where it should be and in the gruesome horror of the woman's state.

Now she knew why Five had been so adamant about keeping her from seeing the carnage he created. Even her other self— the one that had gone to Vietnam and built up a mild tolerance for this sort of thing— was no help. She wasn't Lola and had none of Lola's improved skills, only her memories that were yet to be unpacked.

The air turned stifling and humid, her skin clammy with sweat as Luther's cries muted to far-away sounds, shells burst in the distance— Her gaze grew glassy and she pushed past the other Hargreeves, back towards the door. She had to get out.

Cool air hit her face, the March temperatures a stark contrast to the heat of Vietnam. She blinked, forcing her gaze into focus as she took in the darkness that surrounded the country home. Her hands braced on the wooden railing which was rough and solid underneath her grip. She was safe, Dolores told herself. It was all just memories.

The hairs on her arms stood on end and a second later, a blue flash appeared, leaving Five in its wake. His expression was concerned as he turned to her, giving her a once-over to make sure she was alright. "What's wrong?"

Before she could answer, Klaus and Diego filed out of the Jenkins' home with Luther trailing behind them, Allison in his arms. Dolores swallowed back the nausea that threatened to spill over. Don't make this about you.

"Nothing, I'm alright. We need to get going."

✧✧✧

If she thought the ride there was bad, the ride back was even worse. Thankfully, though, Luther didn't have to ask Five to step on it and when they arrived in record time, the boy didn't even bother parking straight as he stopped the car, shouting: "come on, let's go!"

"I don't think she's breathing," Luther panted as Klaus helped maneuver their sister's body out of the backseat. "If we don't get her upstairs she's gonna die." He grunted under her weight.

They quickly brought her to the lab on the third floor where Dolores had occupied the table only hours earlier. Grace joined them immediately and she and Five kept their hands pressed against Allison's throat to slow the bleeding as the woman examined her. "She's suffered a severe laceration to her larynx. One of you will need to give blood."

"I will!" all of her brothers exclaimed, shooting each other irritated looks.

As Luther insisted that he would go first, Dolores backed out of the room. Allison wasn't her sister, she didn't need to be there for a family event such as this. It wasn't her place. She was the outsider, the variable and had little connection to the group as a whole.

She made her way to Allison's room by herself where she pulled out a fresh uniform. If the situation wasn't so serious, it would have been rather comical to have an onlooker watch as she, a fifteen-year-old, tagged along with a group of older men (bar one) in her pajamas.

Instead, the uniform only served as a reminder that she was separate, that she didn't belong. As she dressed, Dolores couldn't help but think back to the male Hargreeves' reactions when they were told Allison needed to receive blood. The way they had all pitched in without a moment's thought— even Five, who hadn't wanted to stay by her side after she'd gotten injured. She wondered if she would have received the same immediate response if she was in Allison's place. Something told her that the answer was no. Marriage could only tie you to a family so strongly and blood was thicker than water.

A part of her wondered if she was a terrible person for thinking this way. Allison was on the brink. The important part of this scenario was that she survived, not what anyone's perception of her— Dolores— was. She wouldn't wish Allison's position on her worst enemy (except The Handler— she knew that without a doubt), yet here she was feeling. . . jealous? of the attention she was getting. Dolores knew it that was her own insecurity of not being good enough for a family of superheroes speaking.

Tucking her tie under her dress and putting her hair back in place, the brunette gave herself a stern look in Allison's vanity mirror. Don't make this about you, she repeated to herself. There are more important things to worry about than feeling out of place. That isn't anything new. Besides, if they weren't successful in stopping the apocalypse, she wouldn't have to be concerned with anything in a few days.

Shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts, she created another box in her mind to put these. . . disturbing emotions in before she added it to the shelf next to the apocalypse, The Commission, and Vietnam.

✧✧✧

Five, Diego and Klaus were in the sitting room when she found them, discussing their next course of action. "The bastard that nearly killed out sister's still out there with Vanya," Diego was saying as he paced back and forth. "We need to go after her."

"Vanya is not important," Five said bluntly.

"Hey, that's your sister," his brother pointed out. "A little heartless, even for you, Five."

"I'm not saying I don't care about her," he responded through gritted teeth, "but if the apocalypse happens today, she dies along with the other seven billion of us. Harold Jenkins is our first priority."

"I agree. Let's go."

They started heading for the entrance where Dolores was lingering but Klaus' words made them pause. "You guys can count me out," he said as they turned to him. "I mean, no offense or whatever, it's just. . . I kind of feel like this is a whole lot of pressure for newly sober me, so. . ."

"You're coming," Diego ordered.

"No, no, no. I mean, I think we can all agree my power's. . . I mean, it's pretty much useless. I'd just be holding you guys back."

Dolores frowned at the excuse as she suddenly realized why Lola had been able to connect with him and why she had in present time. "Klaus, get up," she told him.

"You can't make me," he replied, though his tone was more pouty than sarcastic at her words.

Before she could force him up, Diego threw a blade that pierced the cushions between his brother's feet without looking. Klaus sighed. "Oh, then again, a little exercise couldn't hurt."

He climbed off the couch, carefully avoiding the knife.

✧✧✧

They found Harold Jenkins laying on top of a broken table in the dining room, clearly dead for several hours. Shattered plates and shards of glass surrounded him while his chest served as a veritable pin cushion, with presumably all of the sharp objects he owned stabbed into it. Despite the terrible sight, the trails of blood— rather than the gushing wound Allison had had— were easier to stomach and Dolores did not feel the immediate urge to flee.

"It's not exactly what I was expecting," Klaus remarked as he bent over the man's body.

"The understatement of the year," Five answered with a roll his eyes.

"No sign of Vanya," Diego reported. "Let's get out of here before the cops come."

"In a minute," the boy said, causing his two brother to stop in their tracks. He walked over to the body and pulled out the prosthetic eye he'd found so long ago and removed the bandage from Jenkins's eye. Dolores looked quickly away from the empty eye socket.

"Come on, Five, what are you. . ." Diego trailed off as he covered his nose and mouth from the smell. The boy didn't reply as he shoved the prosthetic eye into the socket with a disgusting squelch.

"Oh, wow." Klaus grimaced while his brother gagged slightly.

Five leaned back to examine his work. "Same eye color, same pupil size. Guys, this is it. The eye I've been carrying around for decades, it found it's rightful home."

"We got the guy we needed to kill to stop the apocalypse," Diego said.

"But we didn't get anyone," Dolores countered, still not looking directly at the body. "He's already dead."

Klaus didn't seem to mind this fact as he pumped his fist in the air. "Yay! Let's go." He tried to make for the door but his brother stopped him by grabbing the back of his vest.

"No, no. Wait, wait," Five said as he took the eye back. "It can't be this easy. Look, this is the note that I got from The Commission. The one that says 'Protect Harold Jenkins,' aka Leonard Peabody."

"Yeah?"

"But who killed him?" he continued. "Who did this?"

"Do we know if anyone else was with him besides Vanya?" the brunette added.

"I have a crazy idea," Klaus offered. "Crazy, but why don't we find Vanya and ask her what happened?"

"If Vanya got away from this asshole she might be heading back to the academy," Diego pointed out.

"Meet you there," the boy replied, reaching for Dolores' hand before he pulled her through a portal with him. They arrived at the sitting room they'd been in moments prior.

"Vanya plays the violin, right?" Dolores asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"Yeah, why?" Five appeared slightly puzzled at the sudden question.

"Nothing," she replied absently. "I'm just thinking. . ."

Her voice trailed off as she remembered the residual power that had echoed around the white violin in she'd found in the rubble of the theater— the only clean, pristine thing left in an otherwise ash-filled world. Vanya was a violin player. She lived with a family of superheroes and had the same birthday as them. . . But Vanya didn't have powers (or so her siblings believed) but Reginald was also a liar and terrible father, so. . .

Her husband gave her a curious look. "You're working out something, aren't you?"

She picked up the note of pride in his voice and flushed at his words, clearing her throat in an effort to appear unaffected. "Maybe. It seems unlikely, but— Do you know if powers can be turned off?"

"Like a light switch?" he asked.

"Exactly. I mean, I know you use yours all the time, but Klaus almost can't use his at all and Diego's and Luther's are used only occasionally," she explained. "And Allison—"

"Stopped using her powers," Five finished, "but that accounts for all of us."

"Well—" she started, only to be cut off by the arrival of an irritated Klaus and Diego, finally catching up to them.

They split up to search the house , though their efforts appeared futile when they came back with nothing. "No sign of Vanya," Five reported.

"She's not in any of the rooms."

"She's not downstairs either," Klaus agreed.

"Well, I'm out," Diego said, patting his brother on the shoulder as he turned to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Klaus protested.

"Where are you going?" Five asked. "Vanya's still out there and so are Hazel and Cha-Cha."

Diego turned back to him. "I know. I'm gonna get my things and then I'm outta here. I got some unfinished business with those fools."

That left Five, Dolores and Klaus at the top of the stares. The former asked suddenly: "hey, did Dad say anything about the apocalypse when you spoke to him? Any clues as to how it happened?"

"No. No clues. Truly terrific shave, but no clues."

The boy gave his brother an agitated look before he sighed. "Jeez."

Together, the three of them made their way down the stairs. "You know, come to think of it, he did mention something about my potential," Klaus continued, "and how I've barely even scratched the surface of my—"

"How did he know about the apocalypse?" Five mused aloud, completely ignoring his brother's rambling.

The brunette had no answer for him, still thinking about the "Vanyapocalypse" as she had now decided to call her theory. Klaus answered for her: "I don't know. But listen," he added, "this whole jumping through time thing of yours, how did you know how to do that?"

They stepped off onto the first floor and Five turned to glare at him. "I didn't," he snapped. "You'd realize that if you were actually sober." He tugged on Dolores' arm to lead her back into the sitting room.

Klaus called after them: "hey, I am sober. I've been sober for two. . . almost two days now."

"Yeah, two days," the boy scoffed as he pulled the fake eye out of his pocket.

"It feels like forty-five years," he mumbled, slumping as he lowered his gaze.

"Who are you kidding, Klaus? I've seen you fidgeting all day," Five said.

"Well, I guess we're both fighting out additions, then," his brother replied as he moved closer to the pair.

"I'm not an addict."

"Yeah, you are. You're addicted to a drug called the apocalypse."

Five's grip tightened on Dolores' hand as his other squeezed the eyeball. "You're wrong."

"First sign: denial. Besides, your sweet little wife isn't obsessing over the world's end. Maybe—"

Five dropped the brunette's hand and blinked in front of Klaus, cutting his brother off: "you and I, we're not the same— and don't talk about her like that."

Klaus chuckled. "I've seen that look in the eye of someone who doesn't know who they are without their high anymore. Trust me, you gotta just let it go."

The knuckles in his hand he was holding the eye with turned white as his irritation grew. The eye crashed onto the stares and exploded in thousands of tiny shards. He marched past his brother and took hold of the brunette's hand, continuing their path to the sitting room.

"Figuratively, but yeah, that works too," Klaus called after him.

✧✧✧

Dolores sat at the bar as Five made them lime green margaritas from the supplies he could find. Once he was done, he sat next to her on another stool and stuck an umbrella in each their glasses. They enjoyed their drinks for a few minutes before he finally asked, "well, do you really think we did it? Think we actually stopped the apocalypse?"

The brunette frowned thoughtfully as she stirred her straw around. "What about Vanya?"

He shrugged. "Maybe Klaus is right. Perhaps he is, for once."

While she wasn't entirely convinced, it would be nice to live at least one day without worrying about the future, so she let the matter drop. "Now what?"

"I don't know," her husband answered heavily, not sounding particularly overjoyed that their lifelong quest had come to an end.

A knock on the door saved her from replying and she looked up curiously. "We get visitors?"

A faint smile appeared on his face. "Yeah. I used my one call to contact them," he joked, standing. "I've got it."

Dolores let him do so, content to stay sitting as she sipped on her drink and wonder what they would do for the rest of their second lives. The thought of Vanya nagged at the back of her mind but she ignored it. Was it really so selfish of her to want to have one day be normal?

She straightened at the sight of a familiar person entering the room behind Five and her eyes widened in surprise. "Five?"

"It's alright, Dolly," he told her, retaking his seat.

Hazel stood in front of them with his gun still raised, prompting the boy to ask mildly, "so, you're here to kill me?"

"Oh, shit," he exclaimed, looking down. "Sorry. Old habits." He tucked it away. "Well, I can understand why you might feel that way, you know. . ."

Five picked up his drink. "Well, you attacked our house, tried to kill my family and kidnapped my brother."

"Well, there's not much I can do about the past. Don't forget, I'm not the only killer in this room. You got your own bloody history, pal." He paused. "Speaking of which, that job you did in Calhoun, that shit's legendary. I can't believe I'm actually sitting here, talking to you after all—"

"Hazel, why are you here?" Five cut him off, feeling his wife's curious gaze on him at the mention of the work he did at The Commission. He'd made it a point not to tell her anything, after all.

"Well, I'm, you know—" he started, only to be interrupted by Diego coming out of nowhere to kick him in the back, surprise being his advantage as he knocked the larger man down.

"Diego, stop!"

His brother didn't listen and instead flipped Hazel over as the other man tried to rise. "Get up!" he demanded, kicking at his opponent's face.

"You know, before you kill him, you might wanna hear what he has to say," Five commented over the sound of their fighting.

Hazel regained his footing and punched Diego. He stumbled backwards and pulled a knife out of his belt. "I'm gonna kill you for what you did to Patch!"

The hitman looked to his once-coworkers for help, but neither moved as Diego lunged forward with his knife. Five watched them with mild interest. "Or don't. See how that goes."

"Who d'you thinks gonna win?" Dolores asked casually as they watched the two fight.

"Diego's acting on emotions," the boy observed, "that will make him an easy target."

"Yeah, but Hazel's not really into it," she countered. "He's only fighting because he has to. Isn't he going to underestimate your brother?"

"Possibly," Five conceded, then they both winced as Hazel punched Diego in the face again. "That's gotta hurt."

"But then again," the brunette continued, "Hazel was trained by The Commission while Diego's been on his own for a while."

"That's true," he agreed, "but everyone at The Commission fights the same. There's not a lot of strategy behind it."

Hazel screeched suddenly as Diego bit his ear, causing Dolores to sigh. "Damn. I was really rooting for the Hargreeves family honor. Good thing I didn't put money on this."

Five gave her an amused smirk as he disappeared in a flash of blue, reappearing over his brother's head to smash a vase on him. "I draw the line at biting," he declared as Diego fell to the floor, unconscious. He returned to his seat. "Hazel, whatever you came here to say, I suggest you make it quick before he comes around."

The hitman straightened himself out. "I left my partner, quit The Commission and came to volunteer."

"For what?"

"To help stop the apocalypse."

The two Hargreeves shared an amused look as Hazel watched them in confusion. "What on Earth could be so funny to you right now?"

Five took the straw out of his mouth. "Before I answer that, why do you want to help us?"

The man's expression softened. "Let's just say I have invested interest in a donut shop."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, pal, but you're a day late and a dollar short," Five informed him. "The fact that you're here right now means that, without a shadow of a doubt, the apocalypse is over."

Well, there is a shadow of a doubt, Dolores thought, but kept silent as Hazel looked at him curiously. "Really? How do you know?"

"The mark is dead. Found him this morning. You were the last known unknown left in the equation."

"Shit. Really?"

"And if you're out, then the Hellrider ain't riding."

A wide grin broke over the man's face. "Alright," he said happily as he took a seat on the other side of the boy. He picked up the half-full blender and drank the rest of the contents. "So now what?"

"You know, to be honest, I don't know. I've been chasing this thing for so long I. . . I never really thought about the day after," Five admitted. "What about you?"

Dolores knew what she wanted to do. She'd thought often about the days to come after the apocalypse and had decided on a few things. The first was that she wanted to see her family again. She hadn't seen them in so long that most of her childhood seemed like a distant, rather odd dream.

While she had no friends to miss, she had longed to spend time with her uncle again, to hear her mother scold her for something, to hear an obscure history fact that her father thought was interesting. She wanted to introduce Five to her family, like a proper, normal person would do. She'd often thought that he'd get along well with her uncle as he seemed to understand the strange and unique.

Of course, she couldn't have guessed that she'd be fifteen again when she'd see her family for the first time— she had always thought she'd be her mental age— but she wasn't going to wait until her body caught up with her mind. Even if Five didn't agree with her plan, she would go see them anyway.

She tuned back into the conversation as Five was saying, "I guess I would have grown up to be an emotionally stunted man-child like everybody else around here."

"Well, there you go. Now you can grow up," Hazel replied, getting up. His gaze fell on the quiet brunette. "Dolores?"

She turned to him, confused as to why he was addressing her. "Yes?"

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. If I could've stopped her, I would've."

While she doubted that was the case (he had had many opportunities to shoot his partner, after all, and leave The Commission sooner), she appreciated his words. "I know."

He gave a nod to the pair and said, "good luck," before he headed towards the door.

"Hazel, one more thing before you go," Five called after him.

"Shoot."

"Which one of you was the triggerman for Detective Patch?"

"Trigger woman," Hazel corrected him.

"That's too bad. That gun could have cleared my brother's name."

"Well, today's your lucky day, amigo," the hitman replied. He pulled two guns from his waistband and set them down on the bar. "Take 'em both. I'm done with this life."