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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇs
& ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇs ꒱


❝ MONEY, I HOPE. OR GOLD ❞

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While Dolores' splitting headache had (eventually) subsided into a dull, constant throb, the pain still made it difficult to concentrate or talk for long periods of time. On top of that, Five was in a distinctly sour mood due to their most secure lead blowing up in his face.

After he'd returned to the van, he'd taken hold of her hand and blinked them away to a nearby liquor store where he proceeded to steal two bottles of whiskey. His excuse had been that it would help her headache, though Dolores suspected that he had ulterior motives as well. The boy had then jumped them to the library where he insisted that he needed time to work. He'd sat her down at one of the library's tables and dove into his equations, taking the occasional sip of alcohol to accompany his ramblings.

The brunette made an effort to pay attention to him but she was more focused on the liquor in her hands. Five had been surprisingly correct— the alcohol did help take her mind of the ache in her head, as the burning feeling of the drink redirected the pain elsewhere. Besides, it felt good— warm and rich and positively bubbly. Her worries evaporated as quickly as the drink in the bottle was disappearing.

At the sound of giggles, Five turned away from his work on the library's chalkboard to give the brunette a slightly hazy, fond look. "What's so funny?" he asked, his words slurring together a bit. Whatever the joke was, he wanted to be in on it, too.

"Nuthin'" Dolores shrugged, still giggling. She gave him a slightly dopey smile. "I loooveee you!" she sang happily, throwing her arms— the hand holding the bottle loosening dangerously— wide open. "C'mere!"

The boy hesitated only for a moment before he shrugged. His equations could wait. "Okay."

As soon as he was close enough, Dolores set her bottle on the ground and wrapped her arms around his waist, yanking him down to sit on her lap. She misjudged the strength of her pull, though, and he landed heavily, nearly sliding off. That sent both of them into fits of laughter, earning a few disgruntled looks from other patrons.

Once he'd righted himself, Five turned to face the girl and his expression softened at the sight of the happiness in her bright blue eyes. It only served to remind him how— though far more optimistic than him— serious she was most of the time. He lifted his hand slowly and moved it to tuck some of the loose, brown strands of hair behind her ear. His fingertips gently brushed along the curve of her cheek as he did so. He smiled slightly as he watched them turn pink, pleased with the affect he had on her.

"Hi," she murmured quietly as her eyes met his. She smiled shyly at him. "You're cute."

He beamed at her, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. "No, I'm Five," he reminded her helpfully.

That earned him another peal of giggles that sent his heart pounding as he watched he affectionately. Once they'd died again, he couldn't resist leaning forward so that his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "you know what we should do?"

Dolores' reply was breathless, "what?"

"Have a tryst in the library."

✧✧✧

Later, once they'd become suitably presentable again and after they'd "worked" on Five's equations— it had been him writing a single number and then stopping for either a drink break or make out heavily with his wife in the middle of the library— Dolores stumbled over to a corner near where they were working and slid down. She rested her head against the concrete and closed her eyes. Five joined her a minute later and looped an arm over her shoulders to redirect her head to rest on his shoulder.

The brunette curled up against the boy, her arms wrapping around his waist to hug him tightly as she buried her face in the blue cloth of his jacket. Eventually, she felt herself drift off to sleep in the comfort of her husband's arms. The boy followed her soon after, his cheek pressing against the top of her dark hair. Unbeknownst to the two of them, they were attracting attention again. 

"I'm going to call security," one of the library employees said, amused at their behavior.

The words caught the notice of Five's brothers and they rounded the corner to find the pair slumped against each other. "Is he, um—"

"Drunk as a skunk."

✧✧✧

It was decided that Luther would carry Five while Diego carried Dolores. The four Hargreeves were now walking slowly down an alleyway after their respective escapades at the library.

"Well, we can't go back to the house," Luther said, "it's not secure. Those psychopaths could come back at any moment."

"My place is closer," Diego suggested, "no one will look for them there."

Five woke with a belch and his brother grimaced. "If you vomit on me. . ."

Dolores— seeming to sense that her husband was awake— woke as well and scrunched her face up. "Yucky."

"You know what's funny?" Five asked, "I'm fifteen and I've been married to the love of my life for twice my age! And—" He hiccupped. "I'm going through puberty. Twice!"

Dolores giggled slightly and looked up dopily at Diego. "He's my husband," she announced proudly. "I love him."

"We drank those whole bottles, didn't we?" the boy asked with a chuckle, "that's what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye."

The brunette nodded, her tone serious as she agreed, "poof. It's gone."

"What are you guys talkin' about?" the boy wondered.

"Two masked intruders attacked the Academy last night," Luther told him.

"They came looking for you," Diego added, "so I need you to focus. What do they want?"

"Hazel and Cha-Cha," his brother answered.

"Thing One and Thing Two," Dolores added with a giggle.

"She's not wrong," Five agreed, pointing sloppily in his wife's direction.

"You know, I hate codenames."

"Don't hate on Dr. Seuss! He's smarter than you are!" the brunette exclaimed, her tone exaggeratingly scolding.

"Ah, the best of the best."

"Except for you, of course," Dolores said supportively.

"Except for me," he allowed.

"The best of what?" Luther demanded, letting the girl's jab at him slide for the time being. Besides, a doctor probably was smarter than him. (Though he'd never heard of this "Dr. Seuss" before.)

"You know, Dolly always said she hated it when I drank," Five remarked.

"Yeah, it makes you a grumpy pants," the girl pouted. "And super sleepy."

"Hey!" Diego snapped.

"Hm? Yeah?"

"I need you to focus. What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?" There was silence as Five's attention was redirected to his wife as he smiled softly at her. Diego sighed. "We just want to protect you."

"Protect me," he scoffed. "I don't need your protection, Diego. And I can look after Dolly just fine on my own. Do you have any idea how many people I've killed?"

"No."

"I'm the Four frickin' Horsemen and Dolly's the angel Gabriel. The apocalypse is coming." He promptly turned over and vomited, much to Luther's disgust.

✧✧✧

Lola didn't know how long they were stuck in the dark closet. Without a hint to the passing of seconds, it was impossible to tell whether it had been minutes, days or hours. Even her proficient counting couldn't help since she'd forgotten to start the second 'elaborate' shut the door on them, her fear still pumping through her from the violent woman's attention on her. Their captors had duct taped their mouths shut so she couldn't even talk to the man trapped in the closet with her.

He was having a worse go of it than she was, though. The Séance had been quiet at first except for the faint whimpers that escaped from past his sealed mouth. It was only after the minutes had crept by had he started straining at his bonds and his whimpers turned into panicked screams. Lola didn't know what was causing him to be so frightened; she wasn't a fan of the dark herself but she could deal with it. In the length of time she had to think, though, her mind formed a new answer: she'd suspected his powers had been acting up earlier in his questioning, when it had seemed like he was talking to the violent woman but he really hadn't, so maybe ghosts were scarier in the dark. Regardless of the answer, the brunette wished she could help him. She was unable to reach out and rest a reassuring hand on him due to the restraints, nor could she vocally comfort him.

As she was thinking of how she could help, a new sound interrupted her thoughts: the whirring of a vacuum. The mundane noise was almost otherworldly after only being able to hear the voices of three people and she'd forgotten that they were in a motel in the first place. Hope made her straighten in her chair and her entire body leaned towards the opening of the closet as if being closer to the closed door would make it suddenly open. The Séance had a similar idea and his screaming resumed, this time more purposeful as he tried to get the housekeeper's attention. Their efforts were futile and the cleaner left the room none the wiser.

✧✧✧

"You idiot!" the violent woman's voice sounded from outside the closet.

"What?" her partner asked.

"You didn't put the 'Do not Disturb' sign on the door!"

"I did!" he protested, "I know I did— shit!"

The closet doors were thrown open the next minute and golden light flooded the dark space, making Lola squint against the sudden brightness.

"Oh my god, they're still here," 'elaborate' exclaimed, though now Lola could see exactly what their captors looked like— they had forgotten their masks. "Hi."

The man pulled the Séance out first before she was brought in to the main part of the room. Vaguely, she wondered where they'd gone— perhaps a lunch break? She was starving, after all. She hadn't eaten since the night she'd gotten captured and her stomach was audibly growling; she wasn't used to going this long without food.

No, you idiot, she told herself, they went to that lab place the Séance told them about. Stay focused. She couldn't afford to get distracted. Now that their captors had information, the possibility of her death was exponentially higher. Next to her, the Séance mumbled indistinctly.

"What's he saying?" the man asked, walking over to yank off the tape.

"What are you sayin'?" the violent woman demanded.

"You guys are scarier without the masks," he told them breathlessly and Lola couldn't argue with him.

That earned him a harsh slap across the face as 'elaborate' scolded him: "that's no way to say hello to your old friends, is it?"

"Can't we call it a night?" the Séance pleaded, "I already gave you what you wanted. Just please. . . please let me—" He glanced at her. "— us go."

"Well, technically, we want your brother. Is your brother here now?"

He groaned. "Uh, he. . . you're gonna have to be a little more specific than that," he murmured, looking towards the beds. He let out pained sound as he earned another slap. "Ow! I told you already, he's not coming for me. No one will. He'd only come for her."

"Well, Number Five knows now," the violent woman told him, "even if he trusts the girl to take care of herself, he doesn't seem like the type to risk two family members. We left him a message and when he comes for you— either of you— we'll be ready."

They shut off the lights and turned their captives to face the door before they disappeared further into the room. Next to her, the Séance whimpered, though with her mouth still covered, there was little Lola could do.

It was some time later when the Séance's mumbles became intelligible. "Hi, uh— what's your name?"

Lola's brows furrowed. She couldn't very well answer thanks to the tape covering her mouth, so unless the Séance was more of an idiot than she already thought. . . Was he talking to a ghost? Slightly awed at seeing one of the Hargreeve's powers at work, she continued to watch him.

"Oh! That's a lovely name," he said, looking into seemingly empty space. "And can you tell me what happened?"

The violent woman still thought he was talking to them. "What happened is if you don't shut up, Imma cut your tongue out with a grapefruit spoon."

"Zoya Popova," he replied quietly in response. "Old Russian broad, short, with a limp." He laughed. "Oh, she's really pissed at you guys."

The Séance went silent for awhile and Lola presumed that he was listening to the ghosts. She wondered how many there were and if some were standing right. . . behind. . . her. Suddenly paranoid, she twisted around to see if anyone was there, though of course she saw no one. The girl shivered as her fear returned, though this time not because of her captors. She didn't even want to think about it.

"Just shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up," the Séance chanted suddenly, shaking his head. "Everybody just. . . everybody just please, shut up. Jesus, you guys are worse than drugs."

Lola heard the man whisper, "how could he possibly know about Zoya Popova?"

"Maybe he guessed, I don't know," the woman answered, "who cares? She's dead. You need to focus. That little psycho could show up any minute or do you want to be docked pay again, go back and tell 'em we couldn't hack it, face those consequences? Pull it together, now!"

"Swiss Alps, huh?" her attention focused back on the man next to her.

'Elaborate' turned the Séance around and the man asked, "which one are you, Cha-Cha or Hazel?"

"Hazel," the man answered, and Lola was suddenly glad that she could put a name to a face. Before, when the two had been nameless, she'd felt the most fear over their anonymous identities. Now that she knew what they looked like and had their names, they weren't quite as scary. Dangerous, certainly, and she wouldn't exactly want to go shopping with either of them, but at least her panic had calmed so she could begin to think clearly again.

"Jan Mueller. Remember him? Swiss Alps. Him and his wife were coming back from a ski trip."

"I remember," the woman— Cha-Cha— said quietly, "forward, reverse."

"Yeah, that's it!" the Séance chuckled, "yeah! And his wife. . . escaped down an alleyway. He says to say thank you."

The brunette half-wished Hazel had turned her around as well so she could see their captor's expressions at this new information. She was sure the woman wouldn't be pleased— and she was right. "What's he talking about?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Hazel mumbled.

"He was so grateful to you, Hazel, for having spared his wife. You know, there may be hope for him yet, don't you think?" the Séance seemed to be directing the question to her. Lola refrained from answering, not wanting to anger the man's partner.

"Bathroom, now!" Cha-Cha ordered.

"Jan says you're a real mensch, Hazel!" the Séance called in a loud voice. "He said you were such a great—" His tone changed abruptly. "No! No! No!"

"Now," Cha-Cha's voice sounded from behind Lola. The sticky sound of tape being unraveled told her that they were tired of hearing his taunts. "Shut up."

Using his feet, the man wiggled himself back to face the door once they were left alone again. Lola hoped that whoever they were waiting for— one of the Séance's brothers— would come to free them despite the danger. She was exhausted and hungry and felt like she desperately needed a shower. Standing and stretching would feel wonderful, too, after sitting for so many hours. Surely not all of the Séance's family were as unprepared as him, right? Maybe the mission would be successful and the Hargreeves would know how to rescue them safely.

The sound of footsteps reached the room and hope suddenly spiked in Lola's chest. Everything would be okay. Someone was coming to rescue them! She'd get to go home, report the motel to the police and never leave the safety of her family. She'd be even more careful going out, maybe never even by herself again. She'd never return to the Academy. Now that she knew kidnapping was real— (Of course, she'd known it was, but she hadn't given it much thought, the idea as unrealistic as seeing a tornado sweep through her town.)

A shadow appeared in the window and the Séance resumed his muffled screams. Desperation made him hit his head against the solid wood of the table next to him. Lola winced at the thumps, wishing, again, that she could help. She hated feeling so useless. Suddenly, the lock beeped and clicked and the sound of a keycard opening it was unmistakable. The door opened to reveal a woman's silhouette. 

She bent down towards the man. "Are you Diego's brother?" The Séance nodded and she looked over to the brunette. "Are you. . . uh, the wife?" That was all she had to go off of. After all, the message had read, your brother and wife say hi, though a fifteen-year-old couldn't possibly be a wife, right?

The girl shook her head and the Detective frowned. She'd figure out where the missing member was once she'd freed the two captives in front of her. "I'm Detective Patch," she introduced herself before she used her knife to quickly cut the bonds on captives' wrists.

As Lola rolled her wrists to regain feeling, she winced at the sudden rush of blood to her hands. Behind them, the bathroom door opened slowly. Detective Patch helped the Séance up as Lola stood on her own, slightly shaky from sitting so long. Unsteadily, she stumbled over to the table and braced herself with her hands as she fell against it.

Meanwhile, Patch had noticed the movement farther in the room and drew out her gun. She gently pressed the man's head down to safety as she raised it to point it at the captor, shooting successive bullets at her opponent. The Séance lost his footing and his hand flashed out to catch himself— only he grasped onto Lola's wrist, sending her towards the ground with him.

"Police!" Patch shouted. "Drop the gun or you're going down!"

The brunette heard a thump but didn't turn to look, choosing to instead focus on getting to all fours since her hands and knees were more stable than her legs.

"Coming out! Don't shoot!" Hazel's voice sounded from the bathroom.

The Séance grabbed his coat from the bed and looked around wildly for a fast exit. Having read more than her fair share of spy books and thrillers, Lola immediately looked for a vent. She remembered that people usually eavesdropped from them because of the airflow, which meant it had access to outside. Her eyes landed on the one near the beside table and she hit the Séance repeatedly on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing furiously at the vent near the ground.

"Hands behind your head, asshole."

"Okay," Hazel said, "just don't shoot."

The man followed the girl's direction and removed the grate from the opening. He pressed himself into the wall and gestured for her to go first. She gave him a slightly surprised look—he seemed more of a self-serving type of hero— and agreed silently, crawling into the small, metal space. A briefcase stood in the way but she didn't let that deter her and instead pushed it along as she crawled. She could hear the Séance's heavy breathing behind her as she crept further into the darkness. She hoped he hadn't brought any ghosts with him. Though, she added as an afterthought, she'd much rather have ghosts than be a captive.

They didn't stop, even as the sound of a gunshot echoed in the vent.

✧✧✧

Lola had never been happier when she felt the cool, night air hit her face as they exited the tunnel. They were free. Finally, she pulled the duct tape off her mouth and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she let a shudder of relief pass through her. A hand grasping hers made her startle and her eyes opened again to see the Séance tugging her. "Come on, come on," he urged her. "We can't let them catch us!"

Now that they were free, though, the brunette had no doubts that she could outrun two grown adults so she wasn't as worried for her sake. As she took in the man's ragged appearance, though, she allowed him to pull her along. "I-I'm Lola," she stuttered out, her voice slightly hoarse from lack of use and water.

"I know you're Dolores," the man answered. He didn't look back and kept his gaze set on their escape.

The brunette grimaced. "Please don't call me that," she said, "I prefer Lola."

The man turned finally, looking slightly confused. "You just— you just told me you were Dolores the other day."

Lola mirrored his expression. "How's that possible? I've never met you before."

He blinked before his mouth cracked into a wide grin, chuckles escaping from his lips. "Oh, you're-you're good. It's a shame that humor is wasted on an old fart like Five." He fought to keep his expression serious as he said, "you're right, I have absolutely no idea who you are." The brunette relaxed until he added, "Dolores." He burst into giggles and looked at her expectantly. Lola did not join in.

"How-how do you know me?" she asked, now even more bewildered.

"We met earlier this week," he answered, "remember Bonnie and Clyde? Or Peanut Butter and Chocolate?" Her expression remained blank.

"I only know you're the Séance," she told him.

The man became concerned. "It didn't look like they hit you that hard but maybe the slap knocked out some of your memories?" They stopped walking when they arrived at the bus stop and gave each other a thorough once-over before the man finally said, "well, since you don't remember, I'm Klaus, though I'm offended that I'm so easily forgettable."

"Right," came her slow answer. "I'm Lola."

"I know that already," the Séance— Klaus— reminded her.

Lola shifted uncomfortably and hoped the bus would come soon. "Um, thanks."

He seemed even more perplexed than before. "For what?"

"For saving me. I couldn't have gotten out of there without you." It was true— if Klaus hadn't been such an outside-the-box thinker, Detective Patch would never have checked their room.

The man scoffed awkwardly. "Oh, well, y'know, your old man woulda killed me if I'd left you for dead. Besides, I don't need you plaguing me in the afterlife. I've already got one annoying ghost doing that. I don't need two."

"Well, still. Thanks." Old man? He had to have been talking about her father.

She was immensely relieved when the bus finally arrived. It was terribly strange talking to someone who already knew you, yet you had no memories of them— and she was absolutely certain they'd never met before.

They boarded and Klaus made up some excuse for their lack of payment that the driver surprisingly seemed to buy, and then they occupied two of the plastic seats that lined the sides of the bus. Klaus was still holding the briefcase and Lola gave it a curious look. "What's in there, d'you think?"

"Money, I hope. Or gold," Klaus said, shifting it in his hands so the latches faced up.

The brunette pressed against his shoulder and peered down at the case curiously. A bright flash of blue lit up her vision and she felt herself being sucked down a portal— the kind of squeezing feeling she thought Disapparating in Harry Potter would feel like— and then, well— a completely different, terrible change of her surroundings.