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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ʀᴇᴇʟɪɴ' ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs ꒱


❝ GIVE ME YOUR HAND ❞

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(Three Squeezes Means) I-Love-You [Age 5]

Lola skipped happily down the street with her uncle on their way home from Gimbel's Brothers. While it was a long walk for a little girl, Lola preferred spending time outside rather than in a stuffy car. Besides, if she got really tired, she could ask her uncle for a piggy-back ride. As always, her gaze was focused on the ground as she watched the pavement disappear under her feet. Her left hand was holding on to her uncle's larger, warm right one and she was swinging their joined hands between them.

"Uncle Ed?" she asked, her blue eyes glued to the cracked pavement (crack number 20, 21, 22. . .)

"Yeah, Sequins?"

"Where do people go when they die?"

If he was surprised by such a question from a girl her age he didn't show it. Instead, he asked, "why do you wanna know?"

The little girl shrugged (40, 41, 42). "I was just thinking that it would be like sleeping for a long, long time and sleep is kinda like a sample phase of death."

The older man wasn't even put off by her observation. "Well, of course no one really knows what happens when you die," he started slowly, "and everyone believes in different things. Some people have faith in heaven where all of your past loved ones are. Some people believe that a Hell exists where you are eternally punished for your sins. Some people think that nothing happens and you simply stop existing. Others believe in reincarnation where only your physical body dies but your soul is reborn as someone else."

"So like your Multiverse stories?" Lola asked.

"Sort of," he agreed with a glance down at the girl. She was still completely focused on the path her feet were taking.

"What d'you believe, Uncle Ed?" She bent to pick up a straw that had been disposed of on the sidewalk (piece-of-trash number one, crack number 58.)

"I've never really thought about it." Lie. "But I imagine that dying as easier than falling asleep," he told her, "and then you're at peace, no matter what you believe or where you end up." Truth.

"So it's not something scary?" Lola sidestepped a dead bird in their path (dead animal number one, crack 72.)

"No. Well, you should be respectful of it," he decided, "you know how your dad tells you not to swat at the bees but also that they won't hurt you when they fly around your head?"

"Yeah?"

"Death is sort of like that. You know it's there and it can hurt if you try to make it go away, but if you accept that there's nothing you can do about it then it won't be so painful."

"Oh, okay. I love you, Uncle Ed." (Sidewalk crack number 102.)

"I love you too, Sequins," Edward answered as he squeezed her hand gently three times.

"Why'd you do that? You've done it before," the girl observed.

"Well, three squeezes means I-love-you," he explained, "sometimes you don't always want to tell the person verbally, so you can do it quietly, like this. "He demonstrated again and she followed his example.

"There's also the longer version," he squeezed her hand four times.

"What does that mean?"

"'Do-you-love-me?'"

"Yes, of course—"

"Then you do this," he interrupted her, and squeezed her hand three times. "It means 'yes-I-do' and then I do this." There were two squeezes this time. "'How much?' and you can answer by squeezing my hand as hard as you can."

"I don't wanna hurt you!"

He laughed quietly. "You couldn't if you tried, Sequins."

✧✧✧
Bugs [Age 16]

Lola was still getting used to the frequent hunger pangs that came with the territory of surviving the apocalypse. They were intensely uncomfortable and she sometimes had to stop and wrap her arm around her stomach until they eased. They'd been low on supplies for a little while now and had just finished up their last can of food two days ago with nothing else to eat since then. Five was currently rummaging through a pile of rubble nearby while Lola took a break and sat on a fallen piece of building. She felt sticky and dirty and had often fantasized about taking a shower as soon as she left this place, though the knowledge that she never would always remained in the back of her mind.

She was shaken from her thoughts as Five returned with something small and dark grasped between his fingers and his mouth was moving as if he were chewing on something. "Here, try this," he said, holding the item out to her.

Lola leaned forward to inspect it only to jerk away in horror. "That's a bug!" she practically squealed.

Five allowed an amused smile to cross his face. "Yup. They're not so bad."

"Yuck, yuck, yuck. No thank you," she scrambled away from him.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" there was a slight note of impatience in his tone. "This is all we have."

"I'd rather starve," the brunette said as she wrinkled her nose.

"It tastes like chicken," he responded in a deadpan tone. Lola shook her head violently, causing her dark hair whip about her face. 

"Yuck, yuck, yuck," she repeated, gagging slightly. "Nope. Nope-ity, nope, nope."

The boy rolled his eyes and made to eat the bug held between his fingers, but Lola leapt up and knocked it out of his hand. "Hey!"

"Don't even eat that thing in front of me," she answered while pulling a disgusted face.

Five gave her a slightly taunting, shit-eating grin as he bent over to pick up the fallen insect, ready to put it in his mouth again. "This time it's even worse since you made it dirty," he teased her.

✧✧✧
The Rings [Age 23]

While he would never let Dolores go out on her own, Five sometimes went on walks by himself as she checked his math so he could clear his head. He usually tried to find something nice to bring back for her even if it was, well, just himself. He'd taken to scanning the ground for anything unusual or shiny— he'd swear that Dolores was more like a crow than the actual bird but he couldn't love her any less for it. So far, he'd found a few spare coins, sharp pieces of broken glass (those he'd tossed) and the occasional bottle of liquor that had survived its tumble to the ground. He knew Dolores would know the actual count for how many things he'd brought back but Five didn't keep track of numbers like that.

Now his eyes were glued to the ground as he tugged the wagon behind him while his feet scuffed up dust from the road. The air and weather had mostly stabilized now that they were years after the apocalypse and it was a rather comfortable walk save for the tedious landscape that surrounded them. Five was pulled from his thoughts as his eyes caught the sharp glint of something that definitely wasn't natural.

Dropping the handle to the wagon, he walked over and bent next to the spot he'd seen the sparkle. His hands sifted meticulously through small particles of rubble before something cold and metallic touched his palm. After rubbing the item off on his clothes, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of a golden ring that sat in the palm of his hand. The thought of marriage had occasionally crossed his mind— especially now that he and Dolores were actually together— but it had only been for fleeting moments in wishful what-might-have-beens. Now, though, the very symbol of marriage was sitting on the palm of his hand as if it had been waiting for him. If he'd been the type of person to believe in signs he would have taken this as one.

Seeing as he wasn't, he tucked the piece of metal into his pocket and searched through the close-by area, pleased when his luck gave him a matching band. This, too, went into his pocket and he stood to head back to the old wagon that waited patiently on the side of the road, humming one of Dolores' songs quietly to himself.

As he picked up the handle, one of his hands slipped into his pocket as his fingers toyed with the rings. He resumed his journey back to the library and decided he'd wasted enough time lollygagging around.

He'd ask her tonight.

(She couldn't yes fast enough and had barely let him finish the question.)

✧✧✧
Dust Storm [Age 16]

Lola had no idea how, but an entire car managed to remain intact after the blast that ended the world as they knew it. All that mattered, though, was that it had and was currently providing protection for the duo as they hid from one of the many dust storms that swept through the apocalyptic remains of the earth. There wasn't much weather in general, but sometimes strong winds would kick up clouds of choking dust from the roads and surrounding areas, forcing Lola and Five to duck for cover until it passed.

They were both sitting in the back seat of the car with Five scribbling equations into the last few pages of her notebook and Lola picking carelessly at the damaged upholstery. The silence was only broken by the sharp, familiar hisses of tiny grains hitting the metal exterior. At least, that was until the brunette spoke: "Five?"

"What?"

She was quiet as she watched as his hands moved unsteadily across the page. He glanced up when she didn't respond. "What is it?"

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" Lola asked softly.

The boy scoffed, "what, and you have?"

"Have you eaten today?" she pressed.

"Have you?"

The girl frowned. "My wellbeing isn't nearly as important as yours. Only you can stop this, Five, and to do that you need to be healthy enough to survive it. Skipping sleep and food isn't going to help you solve your equations."

"And you've become an expert on health, have you?"

"No," she admitted, "but I am observant." She paused to watch him write again. "Your hands," she explained softly, pointing.

"What about them?" he asked testily.

"They're shaking."

"They're not."

Rolling her eyes, Lola reached over and gently picked up his wrist to hold his hand in the air. The soft vibrating of the pencil he was holding was visible to both of them. He scoffed. "That's just the shaking of the car due to the storm."

"Right," she answered, unconvinced. "Look at my hand."

She held her own up to compare it with his which, while it wasn't entirely steady, it was far better than the boy's. "I think you should take a break," she insisted.

"I'll take a break when I'm done."

"You always say that," the brunette shot back, "yet you're never done. All of your equations will be wrong if you wear yourself out like this, idiot. Then there will be more to fix and you'll spend even more time in the apocalypse. You're better off being a turtle than a hare, you know."

"And what are you?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, "what does is that you're exhausting yourself. You should rest."

"Like I can do that."

"Well, then at least relax," Lola tried. She didn't really want to admit it but she was worried for the boy. He worked so hard all day, every day that he was going to wear himself out before he got anything accomplished. Everything hinged on his success and at the rate he was going, success would be more like failure.

"How am I supposed to relax with this storm going on?" Five asked, pointedly looking out the window to the noisy weather.

"You just love being difficult, don't you?"

"It's one of my many talents."

"I wouldn't necessarily call it a talent," the brunette grumbled as she gently tugged the book out of his grasp and tossed it into the front seat.

"Hey!"

"You're relaxing. Not working." She held out her other hand. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

Lola gave him a faintly amused look. "I want to see if our energies converge."

Five rolled his eyes but didn't move, causing the girl to sigh and reach over him to take both of his hands in hers. After she felt them still slightly, she gave him a teasing wink. "You are vibrationally acceptable."

"Gee, thanks. Check, please."

"Ha, ha," the brunette said, "now shush."

She gently pulled on his hands so his body tilted forward until he was forced to lean against her. "Stretch your legs that way." She let go of one of his hands to point to the other end of the car before she returned it to its original position.

Rolling his eyes, the boy followed her directions and placed his feet flat against the opposite door as he leaned against the girl's side, glad that he was facing away from her so she couldn't see the warmth that had crept up his face. Twisting slightly to get into a more comfortable position, Lola let go of his left hand but kept hold of his right so that she could wrap her own left arm around him to keep the boy from falling off the seat. "Now I'm going to tell you a story."

He sighed dramatically. "If you must."

"This story is called The Timetaggers," she started, "six thousand years ago, there was a village that lived on the edge of the vast Tigris river in the area that was once called Mesopotamia."

"Well, at least you've got the historical facts right," the boy grumbled quietly.

Lola chose to ignore the interruption. "The village was run by the high-ranking priests and priestesses who were well-respected by the lower class citizens. They were very wise and kept to a life of abstinence and purity to be better rulers for all of those who depended on them. One day, however, one of the priestesses became pregnant which was unusual because she hadn't been pregnant when the day first began. In a few short hours, she birthed a daughter and named her Ningal. Despite her unusual start to life and relative luck in coming into the world, Ningal's fortune turned out to be very unlucky. Any possible trouble that could have befallen her did, yet she always seemed to come out of these hardships relatively unscathed. She did her best to be worthy of her name and tried to be a great lady, often helping out the villagers where they needed her and in return, the villagers revered her as some sort of goddess— though one of misfortune. She was, at least, lucky that none of her bad luck transferred to anyone she helped."

"Why would they revere a goddess of misfortune?" Five cut in, "if this was truly historically accurate, they would have probably tried her for being a witch."

The brunette rolled her eyes and ignored him yet again. "One day, Ningal's series of unfortunate events came to a head. The village was used to the rainy season which often brought much-needed relief to the plants and restored the soil. However, Ningal's bad luck seemed to be influencing the weather and the rain continued to pour for far longer than it ever had before. The villagers had to escape to higher ground and many of them got lost along the way. Still, it rained until the river rose far above its banks and rushed through the town, destroying everything in its path. The greatest sorrow of all for Ningal, however, was that she'd lost both her mother and the man she loved in the path of the water. There was hardly anyone left except for her and a handful of common people that had survived the flood."

"What is this, Noah's ark?" the boy asked sarcastically.

"That's a different flood," the girl said dismissively. "Anyway, despite her misfortune, the remaining villagers elected Ningal to be their leader and she did her best to rule over them justly through the trials and tribulations that battered their small civilization. Ningal was only sixteen when she had no one left as her bad luck had wiped out everything she'd ever known. She went against her good nature and cursed the gods, the hardships, anything she could think of. She cried for what felt like a millennia over everything she'd tried so hard to save.

"The gods heard her cries and knew of the good she had brought to the world so one day, the goddess of life met with her in a dream. She told Ningal that if she continued to do good in the world and protect the civilizations that would come and go, the gods would lift her curse and grant her with infinite reincarnations. Ningal, in exchange, said she would agree if the gods let her live with her soulmate, the man she loved. The goddess of life agreed and gave Ningal her promised gift. However, the gods are wily beings and have schedules of their own which is why one must always remember to be very specific when asking for something. The gods gave Ningal back her soulmate but not in the way she thought they would. He was given the same gift of rebirth and she would have to search for each new century— but the catch was that he would have no memory of their past lives each time they met."

"Well, that's dumb. Couldn't she just give her gift back, then?" Five suggested and Lola was surprised that his voice was growing. . . sleepy.

She smiled slightly. "No. You must never refuse a gift from the gods. Anyway, Ningal met up with her soulmate throughout the centuries, each time patiently reminding him of how much she loved him. Sometimes they were friends immediately. Sometimes they were enemies first. Sometimes he fell in love before she did, but each time ended the exact same way: Ningal always sacrificed herself to save the one she loved for she could never let him die like that again. Of course, she didn't really die, but it started the cycle all over again. While she searched for her soulmate, she remembered her promise to the gods and did her best to bring good to the world. With each era, she began a new life with a new name and, in an ironic twist of fate, each set of parents chose a name that meant 'sorrows' or 'misfortune.'

"History often repeats itself and Ningal found patterns that helped her locate her soulmate. While they'd moved on from Mesopotamia, the man she loved had been the fifth in a family of seven. When he reincarnated, he usually had the same family set up in different parts of the world and quite often had variants of the same personality. Despite his upbringing being slightly different each time, they always managed to meet up somehow. However, it was in their last reincarnation that would spell doom for them both. This time, Ningal had chosen the name 'Dolores' which meant—"

"Lady of sorrows, yeah, I know," Five interrupted her. "You've told me before."

Warmth rose to Lola's face at the thought of the boy remembering something like that— about her. "Right," she said, using her free left hand to press her fingers against her warm cheeks. "Anyway, number five—"

"But that's me," the boy interrupted again, sounding confused. "And you're— well, you share her name—"

"It's not you," the brunette said quickly, "my uncle never gave a name to the boy character. He just called him 'number five' since he had seven siblings, including himself. Uncle Ed also liked to make the main character share my name since he thought that would make me happy, I suppose."

"Oh."

"Anyway, number five, as usual, became fed up with his family trying to hold him back from the great potential he had. It had been his initial reason for marrying Ningal thousands of years ago, though his actual escape changed every time. He ran away from home at the age of sixteen like he always did and he was right— he had endless potential and made a name for himself in the world of business as a scientist and mathematician. He won several prizes for his work and was invited to speak at many prestigious events to share his findings. While he turned down most of the invitations, there was one sent from his original home city that he accepted and it was there that he met Dolores. She had been invited to speak as well because of her world-renowned writing and when the two met, they fell instantly in love. After a whirlwind romance and marriage, the two lived happily for many years until Dolores caught an unknown illness. Number five worked day and night to try and find a cure, driving himself to the edge of desperation to save the woman he believed was his soulmate."

Lola paused to glance down at the boy whose eyes were closed, though she suspected he wasn't quite asleep yet. She continued: "number five tried everything he could think of to save her, yet nothing seemed to work. He was by her side the entire time, down to what seemed to be the last amount of strength she had. He would never consider himself a godly man but it was in the last hours that he prayed for the safety of his soulmate when all else failed. And, to his utmost surprise, there was a knock on the door by the time he finished his prayer. When he answered it, there was a woman on the other side who promised that she had the cure for his ailing wife in exchange for his. . . services. There would be a contract he had to sign in payment for the cure, but number five paid no mind to the details and immediately agreed. As the woman promised, Dolores was instantly saved.

"Number five should have asked more questions, though, because the woman— who was a goddess in her humanoid form— wanted nothing good for the couple and had exchanged the cure for number five's soul: he had promised to be her loyal slave until the end of time, living in her dark underworld while Dolores lived above, with no more reincarnations or meet ups throughout time. The gods, after hearing about the contract, were enraged that their perfect pair had been split up. Number five had no say in his freedom any more and Dolores, no matter how hard she searched, could not find her beloved soulmate. Dolores, who still had faith in her old gods—" the girl paused as a different sound interrupted her story. When it came again, she glanced down, surprised. Five was snoring.

She'd never let him live this down, though she was glad that he'd managed to fall asleep. Fighting back the urge to place a kiss on the top of his head, she settled for gently squeezing the hand she was still holding. "We'll finish the story some other time," she whispered softly.

✧✧✧
The Rain [Age 27]

As they jumped farther into the future, the world slowly repaired itself. The fires had been the first to go, followed by the burning ash. The air had cleared up with each consecutive winter and the seasons had evened out the farther they got from 2019. It was in the 2030s that the earth started to look like the earth again, with the sun reappearing more frequently and the moon had actually become visible through the thick layer of clouds. Lola took great delight in seeing the changes from year to year, finding the differences in one world and the next extremely fascinating. Five, on the other hand, couldn't be bothered unless the new version of the world turned out to be harder than the last. Of course, this was often true as the (pretty much) only drawback from skipping through winters was that food became extremely scarce.

It was in the brunette girl's observations that she felt a notable difference in the world: the air seemed heavy and slightly. . . humid. She was sure she'd experienced this type of weather before, though her memory of it escaped her for the moment. It was only when the clouds had darkened to its early-apocalyptic color did she remember what used to fall from the sky before it had become just ash.

"Fives!" she exclaimed excitedly at her realization, drawing the man out of his work.

"What?"

"It's going to rain!" She pointed upwards.

He gave her an unimpressed look and rolled his eyes. "It hasn't rained in years, Dolly. It's probably just gotten cloudy."

She ignored the man's negative attitude and began moving their important things to better-covered places so they wouldn't be damaged by water. As she tucked the last of the items— her record player and box of albums Five had given to her on her birthday— she felt the first drop of wetness land on her cheek. "I was right!" she called over to him happily.

The brunette jumped up from where she'd been crouching on the ground and crossed quickly over to where Five was working diligently on his chalkboard. She grabbed his arm and gave it an excited tug. "C'mon, let's celebrate! We've got some Bordeaux that we could break out—"

"No, Dolly," Five said. Despite his stern tone, he gently removed her hand from his arm. "Let me work."

She pouted. "But you never take breaks anymore. You'll work better once you've rested."

"It's more prevalent now than ever for me to finish my work, Dol. I now need to get not only me home but save you from this as well. I can't do that if I take a break." The man made an effort to explain it to her gently.

His argument proved to be in vain because the large, wet droplets began to fall faster from the dark sky. He threw up his hands in frustration and pulled the dark-haired woman towards the makeshift roof-shelter they'd built for this very reason— though it had been more Lola's doing than Five's. The two of them sat crouched underneath the awning as they watched the rain pick up speed, wetting the packed, dry earth for the first time in almost two decades.

Lola made an effort to keep herself still as she sat next to her husband, but the delightful sound of rain hitting the earth made her want to get up and dance. She stood, half-bent in their short shelter.

"Where do you think you're going?" Five asked as he tilted his head slightly to look up at her.

"Out. To dance in the rain."

"I don't think so," he said firmly, reaching up to grab her wrist and pull her back down. "You'll catch your death of cold and I won't have you dying on me. "Besides, you don't have a dry change of clothes."

"I'll just wear yours," Lola said with a shrug as she tried to tug her arm free.

"And what will I wear?"

She gave him a salacious grin. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

His eyes narrowed at the brunette woman. "You've become impossible ever since. . ."

"Ever since what?" Lola asked innocently.

"Ever since we started having sex," Five huffed.

"I can't help that I love you," Lola pointed out with a gentler smile. "And I can't help that I want to celebrate the rain. You could dance with me and then we could both wear nothing."

"Don't even tempt me," he warned, "I still won't have you getting sick."

"Well, I'll be moving around a whole bunch and then when I'm done, I'll dry off right away. How's that?" the brunette asked.

"Fine," the man grumbled, "but don't blame me if you get sick."

"I won't!" she exclaimed cheerfully as she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek in thanks. She stood again and headed over to where she'd stashed her record player.

"What are you doing now?"

"You need music to dance," Lola explained easily, flipping through the albums to find the one she was looking for. She considered herself very lucky that the people who'd lived in the mansion had such good taste in music.

After setting everything up and dropping the needle, she moved out into the pouring rain, allowing the droplets to hit her face and actually be sort of clean for the first time in years. Nothing had ever felt so good— not even being with Five. The music spiraled out from the record player and she sang along to the words she knew so well: "'I'm hooked on a feeling, I'm high on believing that you're in love with me! Lips are sweet as candy, its taste stays on my mind. Girl, you got me thirsty, for another cup of wine. . .'"

Five watched from the cover of their shelter as Dolores danced in the rain. A part of him longed to join her, to erase his worries and troubles and let the water wash them all away. A part of him wanted to forget about saving the world and just live out the rest of the days happily with his beloved wife. A larger part— the one that spoke sense and not romanticized feelings— kept him in his place. They had a world to save, a world with billions of people in it who didn't deserve to perish how they had, a world that had once contained everything he'd ever known. That larger part told him that he'd be happier living out of the apocalypse rather than in it, without the struggle for survival or the worry that Dolores would somehow be taken from him.

While the burden would crush a lesser man, he would happily shoulder it if it meant that, at least in this moment, Dolores could be free.

✧✧✧
Sets of Three [Ages 22-58]

Five decided that three was Dolores' favorite number.

A part of him was disappointed that it wasn't five but everything she did when it came to him seemed to be in sets of three. Three taps on his arm. Three squeezes when they held hands. Three kisses. Three jabs in his side when she thought he was being particularly annoying. Three light slaps on his arm when she thought he was being obnoxious. Whatever she did, it was always in sets of three.

He had no idea why she'd chosen that particular number except that from a mathematical perspective, it was one of the strongest. That was why tripods were so sturdy and why a trio of three usually never broke. Those couldn't possibly be Dolores' reasons, though, seeing as she had very little idea about the complexity of numbers. And while he could ask her, it could also just be that there was no particular reason to it, so he didn't.

Had he asked her, though, he would have learned that each time she made a set of three, she was telling him I-love-you.

✧✧✧
The First Time [Age 22]

They decided that the mansion would be the best place to deepen their relationship. According to Lola, it was where everything had first begun (though not their actual first meeting, of course.) It seemed poignant that they would chose such a place for the final stage. Neither one, of course, had ever been with anyone so physically and were understandably both nervous and excited. They had moved past the initial awkwardness of actually being in a bedroom together and now Lola was enthusiastically kissing her boyfriend (it was still almost surreal to think of him like that), earning amused chuckles from the man at her excitement.

The brunette moved her hands from where they had been gripping the front of Five's jacket down to hold both of his hands in hers, though as soon as their skin touched, he jerked back with a sharp cry of surprise. "Your hands!"

"What about them?" Lola asked, almost anxiously as she lifted them up to examine them.

Five reached forward and cupped them in his larger ones as he laughed softly. "They're like little ice buckets."

The woman turned pink and ducked her head with embarrassment. "Sorry, they get like that when I'm nervous or scared or excited."

"Hopefully it's only the last one."

"It's the last one and the first one," she admitted, "d'you think you can stand it?"

Five lowered their clasped hands and pulled her closer to him, making sure to catch her gaze. "For you?" he asked as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. He pulled back and rested his own forehead against hers to whisper: "anything."

✧✧✧
Dancing Queen [Age 22]

Neither Five nor Lola gave much thought towards their birthdays once they landed in the apocalypse. There were so many other important things to think about and gifts were impossible to get so it just made the day depressing on the whole and not worth celebrating. After Five's initial apocalypse birthday, they'd come to an understanding that October first and August first would be treated like any normal day. Besides, with their time-jumps past winter, it wasn't truly a whole year between birthdays.

Except, Five was determined not to let that happen this year. While he normally didn't care about things like sentiment it was Dolores' first birthday since they began this new part of their relationship and he at least wanted to make an effort. With the materials he already had on hand, this would pretty much be a piece of cake (that they didn't have).

One of Dolores' favorite apocalypse past times besides playing games was to sing in an effort to fill up the empty space. With this in mind, Five had returned to the mansion at the edge of town and hunted around for a record player. While he hadn't been certain there would be one, he'd been fairly confident and his results had proven fruitful. It had only taken some rudimentary repairs to get it back in order and he'd had his pick from the intact records that remained on the shelf.

On the day of the woman's birthday, he'd treated it like any other without giving away his plans. As the sun began to set, though, he tapped her on the shoulder. "Happy birthday."

Dolores turned and gave him a confused look. "But we don't celebrate birthdays."

"I'm celebrating this one."

"But why?"

The man gave an exasperated sigh. "Because this is the first holiday we're celebrating together. I thought you liked things like that?"

"Well, I do," the brunette agreed with a frown, "but you don't and I know not to expect it, so—"

"So I'm only doing it for this year, don't get used to it," he interrupted her, "now, close your eyes. It's not like I could wrap this thing."

After she'd followed his directions, Five went to the spot where he'd hidden the gift and stood with it in his hands. God, he felt so stupid. Was this the right thing to do? Was this how. . . someone in his position was supposed to act? In everything that his father had taught him, Reginald Hargreeves hadn't deigned to share what one was supposed to do in social settings— not that the apocalypse could necessarily be called a social setting.

Shaking his head, the man straightened and ignored the niggling doubt in his head as he approached the woman. Uncertain whether he should place it in his hands or not, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, you can open your eyes now."

Dolores did as she was told and then they widened at the object in his hands. "Where on earth did you find that?" she asked breathlessly, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"In that mansion outside the city limits," Five answered, "I, uh, thought you might like it seeing as how you're always singing."

"I love it," she exclaimed happily as she grabbing it him to scan it over with her own eyes. "I can't believe you found it fully intact!"

"Well, I had to do some repairs," he said uncertainly. Now that his hands weren't occupied, he didn't know what to do with them so he stuck them in his pockets. "Um, there's records, too. I dunno if you'll know anything, but—"

Dolores carefully put the gift down and threw her arms around his neck before she buried her face in his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Finally relaxing, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped them around her waist to hug her tightly. "'Course, Dolly. I can't be everything I need to be in this setting but I am very resourceful," he murmured into her hair almost apologetically.

She hugged him tighter. "This is the best gift anyone could have gotten me, apocalypse or no apocalypse."

As they pulled apart, he looked down at the dark-haired woman with a soft expression on his face. "Do you wanna pick out a song?"

"I can pick?" she gasped.

"'Course you can. You probably know these albums better than I do even if you've never heard of the band."

After giving the man an ecstatic smile, she hurried over to where the box he'd put the records in sat patiently. Taking a minute to flip through them, she returned with her choice: a dark-colored cover with a group of four with the label of Arrival by the band ABBA.

"Do you have a specific song you want, Dolly?" Five asked.

"Yeah, the second one. Dancing Queen. I think it's one of their best songs next to Mama Mia," Dolores answered with an excited bounce.

Amused at her enthusiasm, the dark-haired man gave her a fond smile before he placed it on the record platter. After setting the needle down, the disc was scratchy for a few seconds before the familiar strains of the song began. Biting her lip uncertainly, the brunette looked up into the face of the man she loved. "Five?"

"Yeah?"

"Would— would you dance with me?" she asked hesitantly, fully expecting him to say no.

He wavered uncertainly before he shook himself. This was Dolores. He'd made this much effort for her birthday, he loved her, and there was no reason for him to say no. "Sure, but don't get used to it," he answered with a grin. He watched, pleased, as her eyes widened with happy surprise. Grabbing his hands, she pulled him towards the center of the broken library that they called their home and set their hands in the familiar dance position. As they began to move with the song, her blue eyes met his green ones as she looked contentedly up at him and said, "this will be a treasured memory."

The soft notes of music floated upwards towards the sun as it set on the apocalyptic scene, the two survivors turning in a slow circle in the midst of a wasteland of time.

You can dance
You can jive
Having the time of your life
Ooh, see that girl
Watch that scene
Digging the dancing queen