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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚ ▎❛ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜ ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴄᴏɴғᴇssɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꒱
❝ DID YOU REALLY COUNT
ALL THOSE SECONDS? ❞
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Dolores allowed her husband to tug her from the office and (once he checked no one was around) he blinked them outside. Five's first instinct was to rage against whoever had hurt her— in this case, her uncle— and to make them pay for the wounded expression she was currently wearing. He knew she'd been so looking forward to a reciprocal "meeting of the families" and it was unfair— terribly unfair— to have her hopes dashed so brutally. Instead, he turned to her and tightened his grip on her hand as he softly prompted, "Dolly?"
Her blue eyes were watery and he could tell she was doing her best to keep the tears at bay. He frowned at the effort and dropped her hand, preferring to (uncharacteristically) initiate a hug. It was a welcome gesture and Dolores immediately buried her face against the soft fabric of his sweater. She held on to him tightly as the gesture encouraged the tears to finally escape her eyes.
She sniffled against his shoulder as the renewed loss of her family hit far harder than she would've thought— after all, she'd been most of her life without one— but she supposed it was the hope that she'd held was what she was responding to the most. In all of their years of the apocalypse and The Commission, she'd rarely cried and had always been able to put out a strong exterior even if she didn't feel the same inside. It was odd, almost, breaking down like this after having hardly doing so through all of the other difficulties she'd faced. It took several moments for her to regain her composure, but Dolores eventually pulled away and wiped at her eyes. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," Five told her softly. "It's perfectly normal for you to be upset."
She gave him a weak smile. "You must hate him now."
"Pretty much, yeah. I did keep my promise, though," he added. "When I felt like strangling him I excused myself."
"Do you still feel like that?" she asked tentatively.
"I always will when I think of him," he answered, his tone bitter and expression angry.
"He's not usually that blunt," the brunette tried to excuse him, "but he does tell the truth no one wants to hear."
"That doesn't matter," he insisted. "He shouldn't have spoken to you like that and if you'd let me, I'd go back and take care of him right now."
"I know," she allowed, "but I need him. He's the only one who can change tonight. For me, at least."
This point distracted him and Five gave her a questioning look. "Are you sure you want to do that? The apocalypse is off, but if it were to happen—"
"You wouldn't be coming to save me," Dolores answered firmly. "I'm not going to subject myself to a slow and painful death. If nothing happens then I'll just be spending a rare night with my family."
His expression softened as he took in her determined one, her eyes slightly red from her previous tears but steely all the same. Hazel's question from earlier came to mind: if you never time travelled, what would have happened? He never would have met her properly, that was for certain. She'd be fifteen, the age she was now, and he'd be turning thirty. Even in typical circumstances they wouldn't have ended up as a "normal" couple.
"We always were an unlikely pair, weren't we?" he asked quietly.
"You can say that again," the brunette agreed, "but I wouldn't trade it for the world."
Five had always admired her stubborn bravery and her belief that somehow, eventually, things would be better. Even after all those years in the apocalypse, she'd never given up hope. Her belief in him had never wavered, even when he'd gotten the equations wrong, even when they were in this mess because of him. He felt as if he needed to say something of equal magnitude to the love he felt for her in this moment, or she'd never know how much she truly meant to him.
"Dolly," he started hesitantly, uncertain of where he was going with this, "you know I've never been as good with words as you are, so this isn't easy for me to say—" He swallowed nervously and stuck his hand in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. "—but I want you to know that I cherish every single moment I've ever shared with you." He paused to calculate the number in his head. "All twenty-three and a half million of them. A lifetime."
He watched as her eyes widened at the mention of the precise number, knowing she'd kept track of it in her mind as she had with all the others she'd intrinsically counted. He continued: "now look at us. We're lucky enough to get a second one."
She gave him a watery smile— this time, she was teary for a different reason. "We've got quite a bit of time before we get to get married again," she whispered. Five chuckled slightly.
"You're right. We do have a lot of growing up to do," he admitted. He took his hand out of his pocket and reached for hers to intertwine their fingers together as he met her eyes. "I hope that you'll be able to put up with me through it all again. I know I can be a bit of a handful," he acknowledged wryly.
Dolores gave him a soft, fond smile. "Of course, Fives. I couldn't imagine a better person to grow up next to again than you."
He gave her an amused look. "There you go again, one-upping me in these confessions of love."
She gave him a guilty look. "I don't mean to."
"I know."
She hesitated before she asked, "did you really count all those seconds?"
Now it was his turn to look guilty. "I— er— calculated it," he confessed. "Sorry."
"That's alright," the brunette said. "You did it your way and I did it my way. That's why we're perfect together." The loss of her family was still there, of course, but the sudden grief that had come from the realization had been softened by her husband's unusually sweet words. She appreciated that he'd done his best to tell her how he felt and so she decided to add: "and you know what else is perfect?"
"What's that?"
"The way stereotypical rebellious teenage couples usually spend their time together," she answered as a coy smile curled at her lips. She stuck her hand out for the boy to take once he realized the implication of her words.
✧✧✧
That evening found them curled up at the same café they'd gone to when all of this had started, relaxing after a rather. . . strenuous day. Seeing as how they'd run out of money, they'd told the cashier that they would pay upon their refills and the tired college student had agreed. Unfortunately, they wouldn't be getting paid as Five had blinked them out onto the street when they were ready to go.
Instead of making the necessary jump home, though, he took her hand they began to stroll down the street together as a normal couple would do. It had been the most wonderful day either of them had had in a long, long time— perhaps ever— despite the few hiccups along the way. And, as they made their way home, Dolores couldn't help but look lovingly up at her husband every few minutes, still amazed that somehow, everything had worked out and he was hers (Five did the same when she wasn't looking.)
It was only as they passed a lit newsstand did things take a turn for the worse. It was Five who'd noticed the headline, the same that had been burned into his memory on the day that he'd landed in the apocalypse. He froze.
"Fives?"
"That headline," he murmured. His eyes were wide as he stared at it.
Dolores turned to study it with him. "Yeah, and what about it?"
"It's the same one."
The niggling feeling that had been in the back of her mind all day pushed harder. She swallowed. "The events might've changed."
"They haven't," he denied immediately. "You're even wearing the same outfit as the last apocalypse." He tore down the newspaper from the stand.
"Vanya's the cause," she blurted out, unable to stop herself.
Five turned to her. "What?"
"She's the violin player. She was with Harold Jenkins. It's her white violin that I found in the apocalypse," Dolores ticked off her supporting claims. "Somehow, your father was able to turn off her power and now it's back on again."
To his credit, it only took him a few minutes to assimilate the information before he decided on a course of action. "We need to get back to the Academy."
Before she took his hand, she gave him a concerned look. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to spring it on you like that—"
"Yeah, yeah," Five answered quickly as he grasped her fingers. "We have to go."
In a second, they were outside the collapsed building, scrambling over the rubble to get to his siblings. "Guys, this is it," Five called to them. "The apocalypse is still on. The world ends today."
"I thought you said it was over," Luther said.
"I was wrong, okay?" He held up the newspaper. "This newspaper, I found it in the future the day I got stuck. The headline hasn't changed."
"No, that doesn't mean anything," Diego argued. "Time could've been altered since that newspaper came out this morning."
"Vanya's still the cause, isn't she?" Dolores asked, earning surprised looks from the other Hargreeves.
"How did you—"
"Doesn't matter," she interrupted them quickly. "It means that the apocalypse is happening. I was right and the Academy came down separately."
"Harold Jenkins wasn't the cause, he was the fuse," Five added. "Vanya is the bomb."
Before anyone could reply, bright spotlights shone on the fallen Academy as helicopters appeared overhead.
"We gotta go now," Diego commanded.
"Regroup at the Super Star," Luther ordered the group. "We need to find Vanya."
Five grasped Dolores' arm again and they disappeared in another flash of blue.
✧✧✧
The bowling alley provided a surreal backdrop to saving the world and it was a strong reminder of how many other lives there were, going on about their daily business with no idea that this could be their last night on Earth. The Hargreeves occupied a section of the lanes, clad in borrowed bowling shoes as they sat in a pensive silence.
"Look, I hate to be the one to say this, but everyone needs to prepare," Luther spoke up finally.
"For what?" Diego asked in a sharp voice.
"To do whatever it takes to stop Vanya." Allison, who had recovered as much as she could in the given time, hit Luther with her notepad. "We may not have a choice, Allison!"
"Bullshit," Diego countered. "There's always options."
"Yeah, like what?" Five argued.
"I don't know."
Luther stood, unable to sit still. "Look, whatever we decide, we need to find Vanya and fast, okay? She could be anywhere."
"She's at the Icarus theater," Dolores replied.
Luther immediately turned to her. "How do you know that?"
"I found her violin there in the apocalypse. It was her final stand."
"That's right," Diego agreed. "Her concert is tonight."
"Hello," a new voice said, and they turned to see an employee standing behind them. "I hate to intrude but my manager says if you're not gonna bowl, you gotta leave."
As she walked away, the said man slammed a pair of bowling shoes angrily on the counter. Diego sighed. "Whose turn is it?"
"Oh, for. . ." Luther picked up a bowling ball and threw it haphazardly across the lanes and it bounced several times before it made a strike farther away. Allison caught his attention by taping her notepad that read 'SHE'S OUR SISTER.' "We're the only ones capable of stopping this," he said defensively. "We have a responsibility to dad."
"To dad?" Diego scoffed. "No, I've heard enough about—"
"He sacrificed everything to bring us back together," Luther interrupted him.
"I'm with Luther on this one," Five added. "We can't give her a chance to fight back. There are billions of lives at stake. We're past trying to save just one."
Dolores quietly agreed with both her husband and Luther— surprisingly— the bowling alley only serving her point. If she was one of the billions of people who didn't know it was the end of the world, she wouldn't want to run the risk of it actually happening. She didn't think it was her place to say, though, so she kept her thoughts to herself.
"Hey, you know, guys, uh. . ." Klaus spoke up. "Maybe I could help."
No one seemed to believe him and his brother was automatically dismissive. "Now is not the time."
"No, let him finish." Diego stood and gave Klaus an unusual look of admiration. "He saved my life today."
"Is that true?"
Klaus rose from where he was sitting. "Yeah, yeah, I did. . . take credit for it. In fact, the real hero here. . . was Ben." He received blank looks, so he continued: "today, listen. Today he punched me in the face and earlier at the house, he was the one who saved Diego's life, not me."
"You are unbelievable, Klaus." Luther shook his head.
Dolores frowned at the way they were treating him but she had no claims to back what he was saying and feared her suggestion would only make it worse. She remained silent.
"You need proof, is that it?" Klaus asked as he picked up a bowling ball. "Alright, I'll give you proof." He spun the ball in his hands and looked to an empty space behind Five. "Alright. It's showtime, baby. Catch!"
He sent the ball sailing and Five ducked out of its path. Predictably, the ball crashed to the ground, uncaught by any ghosts standing where it landed. As the ball rolled away, Klaus pushed his hands through his hair as his face fell in obvious disappointment.
"Is there any way to silence that voice in your head that screams out to be the center of attention?" Luther asked, disgusted.
"You know, I liked you a lot better before you got laid," Klaus remarked casually. Both Luther's and Allison's eyes widened and he tacked on hurriedly: "which was a complete. . . it-it wasn't his fault 'cause he was ridiculously high, right? And-and the girl. . . she thought he was a furry. . ."
"Stop!" Luther said through gritted teeth. It was too late, though, as Allison snatched up her notepad stormed off. Luther called after her as he followed her out.
"Excuse me," a woman's voice spoke from the opposite direction the employee had come from. "Excuse me, it's my son Kenny's birthday today and. . . wouldn't your son and his girlfriend be happier playing with kids his own age? Assuming it's okay with your two dads."
Diego and Klaus looked at each other as Five leaned forward. He glared furiously at the woman. "I would rather chew off my own foot."
The woman's smile turned horrified and she quickly turned her son away. "Let's go, Kenny."
A woosh sounded nearby and the brunette's head jerked up at the familiar sound. She met Five's gaze with wide eyes as he'd clearly heard it, too. They made their way to where they'd heard the sound as Diego told his brother, "if I was going to date a man, you'd be the last man I would date."
"You'd be lucky to get me," Klaus shot back.
Dolores tuned them out as Five lifted the flap off the top of the bowling ball return. A tube was sitting just inside. He took it out and examined the label that read 'ATTENTION: NUMBER FIVE.'
"How the hell did she find us?" the boy asked. He thought for a moment before the idea lit his gaze. "Goddamn it."
He gave her the cannister and dug around in his pocket, drawing out a piece of candy. Unwrapping it, they saw a beeping tracker instead of its usual contents.
"Damn," Dolores murmured. "I don't like to admit it, but she's good."
"Agreed," Five said. He dropped the device and crushed it under his shoe.
She opened the cannister lid and dumped out its contents. A fortune cookie landed on her palm. Five took it from her and cracked it open to read: 'TIME MARCHES ON. . . OR DOES IT?' There was a handwritten address underneath: Rain Quail, Rm 12.
"At least it's not room thirteen, though I wouldn't be surprised if it were," Delores remarked dryly.
"It's still a meeting with the devil regardless of the room number," he pointed out, offering his hand.