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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴄʀʏᴘᴛɪᴄ ᴜɴᴄʟᴇs ᴀʀᴇ
ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ʜᴀʀʙɪɴɢᴇʀs ꒱


❝ HE WHO SEES HIS OWN DOOM
CAN BETTER AVOID ITS PATH ❞

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It was only when The Umbrella Academy was fully out of sight that Dolores realized they hadn't decided on a meeting place. Still, she was too stubborn to go back and besides, it wasn't like they were subtle. They'd probably be on the evening news if worst came to worst; she put that particular thought out of her mind for now.

After everything that had happened, it was almost surreal to be walking down the street in a world that wasn't threatened by an apocalypse or currently experiencing one. People bustled past her on the sidewalk in a purposeful manner, cars whizzed by on the roads and occasionally honked their horns, birds squawked in the sky as they did whatever the hell birds did. It was a world untouched by the terror that superhero siblings could inflict even if their presence was felt throughout the city.

She kept her gaze focused on the ground as she'd always had when she was younger and counted the steps quietly in her mind as she walked. The familiarity of studying the concrete and everything that lay in her path was comforting, especially as she realized exactly how loud the city actually was. (Piece-of-trash number one. Weed thirty-one since she'd left the park. Sidewalk crack number twenty-five.)

She wondered what it would be like to see her parents again, if she got to see them this time. A part of her wished that Five was with her so that he could meet them now that this timeline afforded such luxuries, but in a way she wasn't; his strange behavior post-Sparrow fight was starting to worry her. She tried not to think about that and considered her parents instead.

Would they pick up that she was different than their original daughter? Would they be vastly different? Her new self in this timeline seemed cooler and more formal than she'd ever been, but maybe that came from hanging out with super-powered assholes. Would Uncle Ed recognize that she wasn't the same Dolores right away? She figured that he probably would. (Piece-of-trash number three. Weed number fifty-six. Sidewalk crack number eighty. Bump on the sidewalk number two.)

Dolores also took an interest in the shoes that passed her. Brown work loafers had the highest count (fifteen) while kids' shoes had the lowest (six.) It had been a long time since she'd been on her own without something terrifying happening— i.e., the nuclear apocalypse she'd just lived through— that she actually relished the brief separation. Besides, The Umbrella Academy was not known for their diplomacy and they'd most likely have tried to attack her uncle if he gave them unfavorable news. It was probably for the best that they hadn't come with her.

✧✧✧

Dolores stopped in front of her house and stared up at the once-familiar yellow building. It was shorter than all of the ones around it and sat back slightly from the curb. A white picket fence smartly defined their property from the city's and a surprisingly green lawn stretched from where the concrete ended to where the house began. A straight cement pathway a single square wide led up to the front stoop where three brick steps could be climbed to get to the door. Identical flower planters hung underneath the windows on either side of the symmetrical face.

Deeper into the lot, the back half of the house was cut off by a taller wooden fence that her father still hadn't gotten around to painting. The left side was just a partition while the right was a gate that one could go through to get to the backyard. It was this side that she headed for and she jerked at the black latch that held the door fast. After she'd freed it from the lock, she kicked at the bottom left corner twice to unstick it before it swung open easily.

The backyard was noticeably smaller than the front and was filled with wild plants— her parents had never had a knack for gardening— and statues and knickknacks her mother had collected over the years. Her expression softened at the sight of them as her parents' familiar arguments echoed in her mind. It had been so long since she'd been home.

Shaking her head, Dolores did her best to clear her thoughts as she made her way to her uncle's tinkering shed. It sat in the far left corner and was barely forty square feet. As she approached the small building, she felt nerves coil in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Their last interaction hadn't necessarily been a pleasant one so she wasn't sure how her presence would be received this time. Swallowing back her discomfort— above everything, this was her Uncle Ed, for crying out loud— she raised her hand to knock on the door.

Before she could follow through with the action, it swung open to reveal the older man. His familiar blue eyes gleamed down at her. "I've been expecting you, Word Shaker."

She was hardly surprised by his greeting. "I thought as much," she said. "Am I allowed to visit you this time or are you gonna kick me out again?"

He gave a light chuckle. "You've gotten more spirited since we last met, I see." The man stood aside to let her in to the shadowy room. Once she had entered the space, he looked suspiciously both ways out the door and then closed it firmly behind her.

"So you know I'm not the Dolores from this timeline, I presume?"

"Would I be any good at what I did if I was so easily fooled?" Edward turned to face her with a raised eyebrow. "I take this to mean that you've already encountered your other self?"

"Unfortunately," Dolores confirmed. "The Sparrows are right pieces of work. They certainly gave my academy a run for their money."

"Yes. Well, The Sparrow Academy is a well-trained, highly-oiled machine." He returned to his chair and picked up the antique clock he'd been working on. The brunette noticed that there was only one seat— her other self hadn't been lying when she'd said that they weren't close. "On the other hand, The Umbrella Academy is an inconsistent, incompetent group of Neanderthals who think that hammering a nail point-side up will get the job done."

As much as she felt the need to defend her adopted family, Dolores knew that was the truth. She was hardly even phased that he knew the name of her Academy even though she hadn't told him. "Well, one thing that I did learn from my other self is that you know this timeline's been screwed up. When can we expect the next apocalypse?"

"Not an apocalypse," her uncle corrected her absentmindedly. He picked up a fine-pointed screwdriver and shifted his grip on the clock to better fix the gears.

"So. . . are you gonna tell me what it is?" The brunette crossed her arms as she watched him. Normally she would have loved his riddles but she was older now. She didn't have the tolerance to solve them if her family was going to be thrown for a loop again.

"Patience, Word Shaker," Edward chided her calmly. "An acorn does not grow—"

"—into an oak overnight. Yeah, I know."

"Then you should also know that I will tell you everything you need to know in due course. There is a time and place for everything."

She scoffed. "Now you're starting to sound like that Handler bitch and things didn't turn out so well for her."

He briefly glanced up from his work to give her an unimpressed look. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, but I'm not a little girl anymore. Your mind games don't have the impact that they used to."

The older man set his screwdriver down with a sharp click and— more carefully— placed the clock on the table. He turned to face her and let his hands rest in his lap. "You'd like me to give the information to you straight. Is that it?"

"It would be nice, for once."

"Very well." He met her eyes— the same exact blue ones that he had. "Your family doesn't belong here. Nor do you, for that matter. When things are in places that they don't belong, consequences happen. In this instance it's the grandfather of all repercussions."

"That's not very straightforward," Dolores grumbled. Irritation burned inside of her as she watched her uncle's unchanging expression— yet he still somehow managed to look smug. She wished he would just tell her that her family was doomed rather than going around in circles like they were now.

He leaned forward slightly. "I thought you were smarter than this, Word Shaker. You know that if I tell you too much more things will start going sideways for all of us— not just your family."

"Fine," she conceded. "How about a different question? How the hell do you always seem to know exactly what's going to happen before it does? I never asked you that when I was growing up because I never really considered it until it was too late. I'm almost certain you knew that I was going to survive the first apocalypse and meet Five in the aftermath."

Edward shifted so that he relaxed against the back of the chair. "You know I share a birthday with your father," he answered simply.

"Uh, yeah. That's why you're twins," Dolores retorted as she rolled her eyes. "I'd be a pretty shit daughter if I didn't know my own relatives' birthdays."

The older man watched with interest for a moment. "I wonder what occurred to make you fail to solve even the simplest of riddles?"

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've all but given you the answers to both of them in this span of time we've been together, yet you haven't been able to figure out one. You used to be so good at this."

The brunette knew that he was goading her on, challenging her so that she would think more critically about the answer. It's what he'd always done when she was little and ready to give up. Dolores sighed. "I'm tired, Uncle Ed. I've lived through too much to waste more time figuring things out—"

His eyes flashed knowingly. "You can't use my own tricks against me, Word Shaker. These things are for you to figure out. I will, however, leave you with a piece of advice: beware Hotel Obsidian."

✧✧✧

Darkness had fallen almost thirty minutes ago and the night atmosphere of Hotel Obsidian began to come to life. If Five was being honest, there wasn't much change between the daylight hours and now. The only differences were the shift in hotel staff, the meal that was being offered on the buffet and the fact that his wife— no, Dolores— hadn't returned yet.

"I'll be back before you can even notice that I'm gone!"

Her stubborn words taunted him as he went down to the bar to meet the rest of his family. It had been more than the two hours he'd indicated but was it really a surprise that the Hargreeves couldn't stick to a schedule? As he neared his brothers, he pushed the brunette's farewell— and the worry he felt— out his mind.

Klaus was speaking when he arrived at the table with a drink in hand: "you should try chewing. You might actually taste the food."

"I haven't eaten in days," Luther retorted through a mouthful of take-out Chinese. He paused as he took a good look at his (physically) younger brother. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Five said as he tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I am plenty happy. Had a nap and a shvitz. What more does a man need?" He took the remaining available chair at the high-top.

"Brothers who don't eat like barn animals?"

Diego looked over at Klaus with noodles hanging from his mouth and his chopsticks poised in the air. Luther's manners weren't much better. Five chose to ignore their habits and changed the subject. "So, I've been thinking through our little timeline snafu and I'm pleased to report that in my professional, expert opinion, we are totally in the clear."

"Awesome!"

"Huh," Luther agreed. "So everything's totally fine?"

"More or less," he answered. He picked up his own chopsticks and reached for one of the take-out containers. "I mean, there is one. . . small thing. It's nothing we can't manage."

As he busied himself with the food in front of him, Diego lost his patience. "So spit it out, boomer!"

"Fine, Diego, it's like this. Dad didn't adopt us as babies, but those babies still existed here. We just grew up in different places with different people."

"So?"

"So where are they now? Odds are, we each have identical versions of ourselves walking around out there, living completely different lives."

Luther gasped suddenly. "Like your wife! When we landed in the Sparrows' house— sorry, our house— there were two of her! I learned all about this in Texas," he announced proudly. "Tell him about the paranoid psychosis, Five."

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Diego cut in. "I thought you said that this wasn't a problem! No wonder our Dolores isn't back yet— she probably got shanked by her other self!"

The bullets. The gentle "oophm" as air left her lungs. The weight of her body falling against his. Five shook his head to clear it. "Look, Doll-Dolores can handle herself, alright? She'll be back before the night is over. And yes, technically if you're near your doppelganger for long, you'll go insane. But as Dolores demonstrated earlier today, you can also hold on for long enough to get to safety. So, if you see your other self—"

"Kill them."

"Sleep with them."

"Avoid them," he finished sternly, though he really shouldn't have been surprised by his brothers' answers.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Luther asked as he looked between them.

"Oh, come on," Klaus said. "As if you wouldn't climb Luther Mountain."

Diego wasn't so easily appeased. "Wait. How are we supposed to guarantee that we don't cross paths with ourselves?"

"Easy. We're the Benetton ad of superheroes, born all over the world until dad brought us here— which he no longer did. So, except for Dolores, our doppels probably aren't even in the same time zone as us."

"That's true."

"Would you pass the moo shu?"

As Five was handed his requested food, Klaus continued: "I don't know, though. Doesn't it seem kind of rude that Dad un-adopting us doesn't change anything? I'm offended."

"Hold up," Diego said. He put down his carryout. "I'll be right back."

The men ignored him as Five replied to his brother: "I never said that, Klaus."

"How are we gonna know where it changed?"

"Yeah. Like, Five, one thing that's already changed is your wife's interaction with the Academy—" Luther began.

The teen cut him off before he could stop himself. "Would you stop with the wife thing already?" His brothers stared at him with surprise and he quickly amended his statement: "Luther doesn't like her very much so. . . are you hoping that she'll be abducted by her doppelganger?"

As their Number One protested that he'd never wish for something like that to happen to Dolores— they'd been getting along better, honest!— Klaus shot him a look. "Five, are you having marriage problems?"

"What? No! Dolores and I are perfectly fine," he insisted firmly.

His brother looked unconvinced. "Right, because that's what every couple says when their relationship is completely stable. I remember back when I first met our lovely in-law, you'd hardly let me talk to her. Now you've dropped the overprotective shit and let her go out on her own in an unknown timeline?"

"Dolores has grown up a lot since we first arrived in 2019," Five began. "Ironic, since we actually de-aged. It's not that I don't care about her less—"

"You called her Dolores!" Luther exclaimed as he pointed a finger at his brother. "That's twice— no, three times now. You only used to call her 'Dol' or 'Dolly.'" He gave Klaus an impressed look. "You're right. Their relationship has changed."

Five felt his patience begin to slip. "Look, I'm not about to get relationship advice from Monkey Virgin and Sex Guru, alright? I'll handle it myself."

"Famous last words," Klaus replied in a sing-song tone. He leaned forward to put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his overlapped hands. "So, spill to your loving brothers. When— exactly— did Adam and Beverly get kicked out of Noah's Ark?"