Raincoats | The Umbrella Academy

Murder, She Wrote

There weren't just posters though. There were action figures too, each with the head melted off like dripping candle wax. Charlotte gulped.

"Well, that's not creepy," Diego said. He was crouched down to look at the action figures.

Five looked over each of the posters. They were violent memories of a past that he had tried so hard to not forget. His siblings had worked their way into insanity trying to run away from that, but Five held on fiercely. "This guy has got some serious issues." He whispered a curse as an afterthought.

Next to Five, Charlotte squinted at his forehead. He was sweating, but it wasn't hot in there, not even a little. Sure, it was stuffy, like attics normally are, but it was too cool to give any reason to sweat. She looked down at where his arm was tucked under his blazer, holding something at his side. His head dipped.

Five fell backwards, giving Charlotte just enough time slip her arms underneath his shoulders, holding him just off the ground by his armpits. He was a dead weight in her arms.

"Five."

There was blood staining the hand that had been holding his side. "Check his stomach," Charlotte ordered his concerned brother and sister with a huff. She lowered him gently to the floor and rested his head on her leg.

His sweater vest was pulled up to reveal his bloodied side. There was a wound there, just a few inches under his ribcage. The torn edges of the skin indicated that the injury wasn't intentional or planned. It was some sort of shrapnel.

"Jesus, Five." Diego bent over him. "Why didn't you say anything?"

A panic was settling in Charlotte's chest as she stared down at him. It wasn't a feeling that she was used to when it came to injuries, whether they be on her or someone else. Years of stabbings, gunshots, and various other injuries inflicted on her had desensitized her to the sight of blood and gore, but this felt different. She didn't know how long Five had been bleeding, didn't know if there was an exit wound, and didn't know how much pain he was in.

Her hands cradled his head. "We have to keep going," Five struggled to get out. His body twitched. "We're so close."

"We have to get him to a hospital," Charlotte said urgently, broken out of her shock from earlier and pushed by the new adrenaline pulsing through her veins. "We have to go now!" She shouted as Five slipped out of consciousness and his body went limp in her lap. That kind of limp weight was how dead bodies felt. Charlotte shivered.

Getting him out of the house was difficult, and had to be taken slower than any of them liked, but once Five was settled in the back of the car, they were off.

In the back seat, he was laid out on his back, again with his head resting in Charlotte's lap. She gently patted his pale cheek until his eyes fluttered slightly. "Hey," she said in a hushed tone. "Hey, come on."

He groaned. It was a relief. Five wasn't dead, but he might be if he didn't get help soon. He twisted, trying to get away from the pressure that Charlotte was applying to the wound. It wasn't much, out of fear that whatever material that created the wound would only be pushed deeper into his skin, but it was enough to slow the blood flow and be painful.

She kept her hold steady. "Five, I swear to God. If you die right now, I'm going to get your brother to summon you so that I can kick your ass."

The boy let out a pained laugh. His eyes were only half open, but he was awake enough to press his hand on top of hers, adding to the pressure.

"I'm serious," she told him. She was staring into his eyes like it was the last time she would see them. She was terrified that it might be. His hair fell against his forehead and she brushed it away with her free hand. "You have to get better; we've got a world to save and we can't do it without your stupid brain."