Chapter Text
The sunlight outside was glaringly bright. Clouds dotted the blue canvas of the sky, as white as fresh snow. That wouldn't last. Already, Five could recognise tendrils of black and grey within their fluffy surface.
Five's mother had taken to whispering to him in the dead of night, telling him about how the stars turned invisible when morning came, but they were still there, watching. Five felt that way about her. She burned and glowed like a comet, rightfully demanding everyone's attention. But when the solitude of night was lost and his father entered the picture, her flames sputtered out of existence. She saw everything Reginald did to Five, and she said not a word.
Five resented her almost as much as he loved her.
No matter what she didn't do, he would pick this life over any other one, any day, if just to have her at all.
He sighed and physically tore himself away from the window. He didn't want to leave it. It was his only way to see other people. Not even school did that for him because on the days Reginald was required to send Five in, he was always adamant on separating him from the other children. But it wouldn't do to linger. If he was even a second late, his father would blow a fuse.
His father. Five preferred calling him Reginald. The distance seemed more appropriate for their relationship, though he wasn't even sure what that relationship was. It certainly wasn't the bond that father and son were expected to have.
Reginald was all jarring hits and deathly quiet anger. His voice was cruel and mocking, and he targeted everything and anything about his son. You're too skinny. You're too feminine. You have to be smarter! You will fail at life if you don't grow up. I'm disappointed in you Number Five.
He still remembered the dreadful day of his twelfth birthday, little over a year ago. Five had crept downstairs on Pogo's request. The butler had said that he wanted to gift the boy something.
As he'd descended the staircase, he'd seen his father's study. The door hadn't been shut like it usually was, and like any other curious child, Five had eavesdropped.
"You're too harsh on him," his mother had said, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. They wouldn't fall, Five had known. Whenever she was around Reginald, she seemed almost emotionless. Like a robot.
"Why shouldn't I be? If I am not, nobody will be. How can he expect to face the horrors of the world if he can't handle criticism?" Reginald had barked, not even looking up from his book.
"Your criticism veers into cruelty. He's your son—”
"He is no son of mine." That had finally been the thing to get his attention. "I suggest you end this conversation and retire to your bedroom. I do not like to fight with you Grace, but you make that increasingly hard when you defend that poor excuse of a boy."
He loved his father almost as much as he resented him.
Five had stumbled away, walking right into Pogo, who had no doubt heard the conversation as well. The butler had stared at him with growing sympathy, and passed him his gift before turning around and leaving. It was almost as if the man had known that Five would hear. It'd been the first - and last - gift that he'd ever received.
To this day, Five had never opened it.
So caught up in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear Reginald's shout. He quickly yanked on his clothes, cursing his inability to please his father.
Five speedily zoomed down the stairs, clutching the wooden banister with one hand and his school bag with the other.
He decided to forgo breakfast, not wanting to see his father. Just as he reached the front door, Reginald stepped into the hallway. So much for that plan.
"Number Five," Reginald called, striding towards him. "You know this is a very important day, and I expect you to behave yourself. If I get even one report of less than perfect behaviour, I will not hesitate to punish you."
Five definitely knew. It wasn't like Reginald ever let him forget whenever this day would arrive. He was home schooled for the most part, but once a year he was required to actually attend normal school so they could test his learning and check on his condition.
"Yes," Five ground out, his teeth gritted. He spied his mother in the corner of his eye and pushed down the disappointment that always welled up inside of him when she failed to stand up to Reginald.
Reginald narrowed his eyes, his knuckles whitening on his cane. It was curved wickedly and hurt like a bitch when it met skin. Five would know.
"Yes what."
Five knew what the older man wanted him to say - and maybe it was the combination of sadness and anger that beholding his parents always gave him - but he found himself replying in a manner that he usually didn't.
"Yes Dad."
To be honest, he wasn't expecting the slap that followed afterwards.
It was echoed loudly in the tense silence that permeated the hallway.
Five felt his mother's sadness and his father's rage, but he didn't wait to see it. Instead, he grabbed the door and yanked it open, tumbling down the steps and across the driveway.
"Number Five, get back here at once!" Reginald shouted, but he didn't make a move to go after his son. "You don't have permission to leave."
And you don't have permission to ruin me.
Five quickly opened the car door, climbing in beside Pogo, who stared at him in shock.
"Young Master, I don't believe that your father has dismissed you—”
"Pogo please," Five begged, unable to keep his desperation from filtering into his voice.
His butler gazed at him unreadably, and Five had a sudden feeling that the man would either seize him by the back of his blazer and toss him to the wolves, or faint from the stress of not doing so.
He did neither of those things.
"Put your seatbelt on. You might get injured," Pogo ordered kindly, pulling out of the driveway and heading towards Five's school.
The fact that Five definitely would when he returned home hung unspoken between them.
As Five entered his school and found his classroom, he realised that Pogo had given him many presents over the years, many of which Five had never recognised as one. Even agreeing to drive Five instead of making him face Reginald was a gift.
Little did Five know it was the last one he'd ever get.
---
When Allison finally opened her eyes, she was surprised to find tears snaking their way down her cheeks.
The dream had been a continuation of the last one she'd glimpsed. A young boy with aristocratic features wearing a fancy school uniform. A gun glinting under the fluorescent lights of a classroom. Children screaming and clambering under tables. The bodies of those that weren't fortunate enough to make a quick getaway. Blood blooming across white buttoned shirts and spoiling blue blazers. The alarm bell droning on and on and on in the background.
She'd watched as a bullet tore the boy's shirt in half. She'd watched as he fell out of his chair and slumped to the ground, as lifeless as all the other children. She'd watched as the gunners left the classroom, triumph visible in every line of their bodies. She'd watched as he jerked back to life, the bullet pushing through his skin and bouncing off his thigh. She'd watched as he stared at the bodies surrounding him. She'd watched as something inside him fractured and broke.
She hadn't wanted to watch anymore.
Allison heaved in the cool morning air, desperately trying to unsee the image within her mind. But it was impossible to vanish it, and nor should she want to. This boy needed her help - all of their help, she belatedly realised - and she was determined to give it to him.
She remembered how terrifying everything had been when she'd first risen from the grave. Even now, she could never forget the iciness of the blade that'd kissed her throat. The same blade that'd invited the chaos that her life had been ever since. The same blade that haunted all of her nightmares.
She'd been unfortunate then. There'd only been one other person who'd been like her, and they'd taken forever to find her. Then they'd abandoned her. Allison was still unsure about what had happened to Nefertari.
Just then, her phone went off, deafeningly loud in the oppressive silence of her bedroom. She sighed through her exhaustion and grabbed it anyways, begrudgingly pressing the answer button.
"There's another one of us," Diego immediately said, not even bothering with pleasantries.
"Hello to you too. I know. I saw him," Allison replied, dry swallowing two paracetamol pills in one go. She needed it for the headache that would inevitably assault her when this was all over.
"He's so young. Can't have been older than fifteen at best."
Surprisingly, Diego sounded sad. Allison understood. After Luther and Ben, he'd been the first to end up with her. They'd endured centuries of this bullshit, and yet none of them had ever had such a young addition.
"We have to reunite the gang," Allison informed him, plucking a grape from the fruit bowl on her nightstand. "Tell the others. I'll meet you guys in Toronto."
Diego made a noise of affirmation. "Sure thing chief. How long do we have?"
Allison rolled her eyes fondly. "I'm not giving you guys ten months like you wanted last time. He's a kid Diego. We might have forever to rescue him, but he doesn't know that."
Diego sighed. "I wasn't being serious Ally. I know. Now drag your ass to Toronto. We'll be there soon."
Allison laughed and hung up, not bothering to reply. It'd been so long since they'd all been together. A year wasn't actually that long when compared to the length of Allison's life, but these people were her family. They were all she had. She was adrift without them.
With a new found purpose and unwavering determination, Allison climbed to her feet and began to get dressed.
---
"Five? You're bullshitting me. That can't be his name!" Klaus insisted for the hundredth time.
Allison groaned and rubbed at her temples, shooting her non-biological brother an exasperated look. He glanced back innocently, his ballpoint pen poised above the still blank notebook in his lap. So far, they hadn't managed to agree on anything about the mysterious boy.
"Okay, okay, can everyone please be quiet?" Vanya asked over the cacophony of voices. Somehow, they all fell silent. Vanya had that effect on people. Even if she was being quiet, she found a way to still be heard. Allison figured it was probably because of her traumatic past where she'd been silenced relentlessly.
She smiled at her sister gratefully before turning her attention to the rest of them expectantly. "Thank you Vanya. Now, let's just focus on some basic details and then branch outwards. What was the colour of his eyes?"
"Green," Luther said, though his response was muffled by the giant ball of pasta he had in his mouth. "They looked a little grey or blue sometimes, but it was definitely green."
"Alright, great. What about his hair colour?" she questioned.
"Brown. Fluffy. Bangs." Klaus punctuated each of his words by writing them down.
"He had white skin. Dimples as well. Very short and very thin. Blue blazer and white shirt. Definitely a school uniform judging by what the others were wearing," Vanya added helpfully. Klaus hurried to get it all down.
"It happened here. In Toronto." Allison raised an eyebrow at all of their shocked looks. "You do realise that's why I called you guys here...right?"
"Pfft, totally." Diego waved his arm nonchalantly. She snorted at his terrible acting.
"His name is Five," Ben repeated, glaring daggers at Klaus, effectively cutting him off before he could go on a tangent again about how numbers weren't names.
"Did anyone catch the name of the school?" Luther asked, squirting a dollop of sweet chilli sauce directly into his mouth.
"It has to be on the news," Allison answered, already plucking the remote from the paisley couch.
As the TV flickered to life, she realised that she was right. A headline was splayed across the ninety inch screen. Heathline School Shooting.
A wave of nausea washed over her as the newscast showed pictures of the crowded school and bullet marked classrooms. They interviewed a few of the parents too, and Allison immediately averted her gaze when a class of crying children were led out of the school by their equally dishevelled teachers.
It reminded her so painfully of Claire and what had happened to her own daughter.
Klaus seemed to realise this - he was strangely observant when it came to these things - because he quickly reached over and changed the channel before muting the sound. As he placed the remote on the coffee table, he subtly squeezed her hand, smiling at her reassuringly. Allison squeezed back gratefully before pulling herself together.
"Why are they only broadcasting this now?" Diego asked, obnoxiously loud. She recognised that he was trying to change the subject. Looked like Klaus wasn't the only intuitive one.
"My best guess? They've only found out recently. We had this dream a few hours ago, meaning that it happened then too. The area's quite far away from the general public because it's a fancy private school with its own campus. If the gun had silencers, maybe no one even knew until kids weren't coming home," Ben theorised thoughtfully.
"But there were survivors! We all saw them. Why didn't they alert the police?" Klaus pointed out indignantly.
The six of them fell silent, contemplating the situation but unable to find any substantial answers.
Finally, Luther broke the silence. "The longer we stay here, the longer Five is in trouble. If someone gets to him before we can, we're all screwed."
"And we care about how he feels," Ben added, shooting Luther a dubious look. Luther gazed back unflinchingly.
"You're both right," Allison soothed. "But the school's going to be under a lot of attention right now. We can go there and search, but I doubt he's managed to get away without them finding him. They probably sent him to the police or back home. We'll need to consider those two possibilities if he isn't there."
"What do you think his powers are? Maybe he used them to escape unnoticed," Vanya piped up.
Allison nodded in agreement. "That's a good point. Could be true. Let's just scout it out before making assumptions."
"God, he's going to have so many questions," Klaus complained. "I kind of miss the old alcoholic Olympic days."
"You spent almost two centuries getting over your addiction Klaus," Ben chided. "Don't fall back into it."
"Relax! I've been clean for fifty years, give or take." Klaus raised his hands placatingly, his 'hello' and 'goodbye' tattoos flashing like streetlights.
"No one's accusing you," Luther grumbled, running a hand through his wavy blond hair. "We need tactics guys. How are we going to actually rescue him? What if he refuses to come with us?"
"He seems quite snarky from what I can remember," Vanya agreed. "He'll probably put up a fight."
Diego snorted amusedly. "Are you questioning our abilities? Any one of us could easily take him. How old is he? Twelve?"
"Oh? Like you handled Vanya?" Luther shot back, eliciting a chorus of laughter as they all remembered how Diego had had his ass handed to him.
Allison hid a smile behind her water bottle. "I agree with Luther. We don't know his powers or his capabilities."
Diego seemed surprised that she wasn't backing him up. "And tactics?"
"We do what we always do." Allison smirked. "We fuck everything up."
---
The humidity of the air never ceased to get on Diego's nerves. He preferred temperate weather that was somewhere in between hot and cold.
Toronto was nothing like that.
With generic buildings and red brick houses, Toronto was like any other city or town within a one hundred mile radius. It was nothing like the domed temples and colourful mosaics of India, where Diego longed to be.
To be fair, the scenery wasn't all that drew him towards India. It was also his newest lady love - Lila. She had captured his heart after only a few meetings, and Diego wanted nothing more than to head back to their open air pavilion.
Instead, he was squashed between Klaus and Allison, practically inhaling their sweaty bodies every time he moved his head. They were crouched behind a shoddy wooden fence, straining their eyes to peer through the tiny slivers in its mottled surface.
"Do you see him?" Klaus asked for the thousandth time.
"No, Klaus. I have not grown an extra pair of eyes that can somehow see something you can't! So please, for the love of God—"
"Shut up!" Allison finished. It took him a moment to realise she was directing that statement at him too. "The police, paramedics, and families are still beyond the duct taped barrier. He can't be here."
"Unless...he's in the woods." Klaus pointed towards the trees that surrounded the left of the site.
"It's really dark," Allison murmured, queen of the obvious. "If only one of us had night vision."
"It was your idea to come under the cover of night," Diego accused.
"If I hadn't suggested that, we would've been caught within seconds! Don't act surprised when I actually pull my weight and help—"
"Um, guys..." Klaus jerked his head towards the woods once more, surprisingly speechless.
When Diego actually looked, he was too. Flashes of blue and gold sparked between the trees, blindingly bright in the pitch black night. Flames.
"What on Earth is happening," Vanya yelled from where she, Luther, and Ben were hiding. She must've enhanced her voice to carry across such a great distance; there was no other way they would've been able to hear it.
"Fire powers, maybe?" Allison called back.
Vanya looked like she was contemplating this, but it was hard to tell from so far away. "Should we check it out?"
Allison sent her a thumbs up and immediately plopped onto her belly, crawling over the rocky terrain. Diego quickly followed, only slowing to tug Klaus along whenever he fell behind.
Within a few minutes, they found themselves at the forefront of the forest, huddled in a small group to divert attention.
"I'm pretty sure he's causing it," Ben said as he caught sight of them.
"Agreed." Diego assessed the fire once more, praying that nobody else was aware of its existence.
"Well here goes nothing." Allison strode into the woods, disappearing behind a copse of trees. They silently followed, careful to keep quiet so as to not alert Five of their presence.
As they neared the source of the raging inferno, Diego could finally make out a slim silhouette within the flames, confirming their suspicions. It was Five.
He slowly halted at the edge of the fire, occasionally inching backwards when the fiery substance got too close. Five's head was bowed and it appeared as if he hadn't seen them. He stood in the middle of the flames, and yet they didn't hurt him. It almost seemed like he wasn't aware that they were there at all.
"Five?" Allison tentatively called, wincing when the boy's head shot up wildly and the fire surrounding him increased in volume.
"Who— who are you?" he whispered, his voice cracking from disuse.
"We're just like you," Klaus said, daring a slow step closer.
Those words seemed to work their intended effect, because the flames died down somewhat.
"What do you mean?" Five demanded, glaring at them with his big, sweet green eyes. In that moment, it was painfully apparent how young he truly was. How young he'd always be. It seemed a bit of a curse to be frozen in time before adulthood.
"We can explain it all on the way home. Just please come with us." Ben smiled gently, but his voice was brittle and tired.
Five's eyes narrowed and the flames burned a touch brighter. "Home? Where is 'home' exactly, because I can assure you, wherever you're going isn't my home."
"But it could be," Vanya cut in, voice strengthening with determination. "We're the only people who can understand you. We're your family."
Five flinched as if he'd been slapped "I— I don't understand."
"Then let us help you understand. Just come with us and we'll give you answers. It's not like you've got many other options kid," Diego pointed out.
"You might want to put out the fire first though," Luther suggested.
Five sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, either uncaring or unaware of the flames that danced between the crevices of his fingertips.
"About that...how do I put it out?"