"You need to tell her," Ben insisted.
His brother glanced up, his forehead scrunching. "For once, Benny Boy, I think you've come up with a horrible idea."
The ghost sighed and began to pace the room. Everything was a fight with Klaus, every little thing. God forbid the man do anything good for someone else. "He isn't going to leave her alone and she doesn't even know that he is there, that's torture." He pointed out the obvious.
Klaus's eyes slid to the corner of the room, where the new apparition was desperately trying to pick up a water bottle from the dresser. His hand simply went through the object every time and the ghost was getting fed up with the confusing anomaly.
"Ugg! I'm sick of this! Where are we and what did you do with Charlotte?! What's wrong with me?"
Ben raised a knowing brow at Klaus. The man didn't seem to know that a chunk of his skull was missing. It looked like an exit wound, probably shot close up. It often took a while for the dead to come to terms, or even figure out that they are no longer living.
This ghost was different than the other ones that would show up around Charlotte. They didn't really know why, but this one wasn't just a vengeful spirit.
"We have to tell him," Ben whispered.
"We're in my room," Klaus spoke up, so that the confused ghost could hear. "And Charlotte is... Actually I don't know where she is. She's probably off somewhere making googly eyes at my brother."
In a split second, his face contorted into a kind of displeased scowl. "Who's your brother and why the fuck am I here?"
"He's real friendly," said the Séance said offhandedly to Ben. "Can't wait to see how he'll take being dead."
"You have to tell him. He's just going to attach himself to her and he'll never get closure."
Klaus snorted. "Oh, like how you attached yourself to me? We don't even know who he is to her."
"What are you talking about?" The man snapped, looking more pissed off by the second.
His face was smeared with bloodied hand prints that still looked fresh. He must have died recently. Not all ghosts keep their appearance from the time that they died, but many of the more conflicted ones did.
"What's your name?" Ben finally spoke.
"What's it to you?" He spit, on the defensive already.
Ben took a few steps forward, over a pile of dirty clothes. He was definitely better at handling these situations than his brother. He could do this. "We're just trying to help you. We can get you Charlotte, but we have to know who you are."
He slowly unfolded his arms as he processed Ben's calm words. "I'm Denis. Charlotte is my- we're close." They noted the way he used 'is', instead of 'was'. He really didn't realize that he was dead.
On the bed, Klaus sat upright. "How close?" He could recall Charlotte using the word 'roommate' to describe the relationship she had with the drug dealer, but he didn't know if there was more to that.
Denis frowned. "Really close. Now could you tell her that I need to talk to her? I really need to... I need to..." His voice trailed off and his eyes found the floor as he tried to regain his train of thought.
Just as confused, Ben and Klaus waited for him to finish, but he didn't.
"I think I need to apologize to her."
"You think?" Klaus echoed. "What happened?"
A few moments of silence passed and Denis squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't fucking remember. I just- she was mad at me and I need her not to be."
The brothers shared a look.
"Maybe there's a reason she's mad."
"I don't know," Ben said in a hushed tone. "But he deserves a chance to move on, don't you think?"
Eyeing the dead man standing in his room, Klaus let out a huff. "Okay, fine. But why can't we ever just chill? The world was ending like a day ago and now we have to get involved with ghosty business."
"What about ghosts?" Denis asked from his decided spot next to the dresser.
This was going to be a long day.
-----
The sound of a blender whirring registered in Charlotte's head. She watched as the margarita mix slushed around the glass. Nobody had ever told her how exhausting ignoring all your issues can be, but they were starting to catch up to her now.
Thoughtfully, Five switched the blender off and began poring the mixture into three glasses. A weight had visibly lifted from his shoulders. He moved easily, without haste or irritation, like she had known him to do.
"Do you think we really did it?" he spoke up, looking between Delores, who was perched up on the bar, and Charlotte. "Do you think we really stopped the apocalypse?"
Shifting under his gaze, the redhead took her glass. To hell with sobriety. The world was still spinning and they could finally celebrate. "My guess is as good as yours."
He lowered his head as he added a tiny umbrella to each of their drinks.
They locked eyes and out of all of the times that the two had made eye contact, this seemed like the most important. They were lost, truly. Five had nothing to save, Charlotte had no revenge to get, and everything seemed to be in place. It felt too good to be true. What would they do now?
"I'm open to suggestions," he said as he turned from her, staring at the shelves of liquor behind the bar.
There wasn't much to suggest. It was over, all of it. Charlotte closed her eyes as she sipped her margarita. She could still feel the warmth pouring from the back of Denis's head into her hands. She could still feel the enraged eyes on her as the knife twisted in her thigh. The disappointment on the Handler's pale face when her offer was declined.
It was all over.
"Now, we celebrate." She lifted her glass and clinked it with Five's, then to the cup sitting in front of Delores. "To the real end of bad things." She retrieved the phrase from a simpler time, when they had known so little of each other.
A small smile found his lips. This girl surprised him at every turn. Just when he thought she was going to shut down again, things were all sunshine and rainbows. He sipped from his swirly straw and allowed them to sit in a comfortable silence.
Maybe now, with the apocalypse out of the way, he could start his life again, the way he was meant to. Five could grow up (again), but with his siblings this time around. He could have a real life and possibly a career. He could make friends, learn new things, get to know Charlotte. He just didn't know where to start. In the back of his mind, this didn't feel right. After all this time, everything was suddenly fixed? Surely the universe wouldn't be so kind to a Hargreeves.
The sound of a knock on the glass doors to the Academy rang through the living room. They both looked up, but Five stopped Charlotte from moving with an outstretched arm. "I'll get it."
She relaxed on the bar stool with a wince. Walking and just moving in general was made hard by the deep wound in her leg, though she couldn't imagine how Five must've felt with all of his injuries. He must have been in pain too.
It was a few short moments later that Five came limping back to the bar with someone trailing behind him. Charlotte looked around him as he took his spot next to her once again.
"You're here to kill me," was all he said.
Eyes enlarging like saucers at their guest, she quickly reached behind her to grab the first thing her hand could reach, which happened to be the bottle of margarita mix. Brandishing the heavy bottle like a knife, she held it out.
Hazel stepped back momentarily and slid his gun into the waistband of his slacks. "Sorry, old habits die hard." Despite this comment and the gun now being concealed, Charlotte didn't let her guard down. "Though, I can understand why you might feel that way."
She didn't waver when meeting his apologetic gaze, but Five seemed wholly content with the situation. "Well, you attacked my house, tried to kill my family, and kidnapped my brother."
"You also tried to kill me on multiple occasions," Charlotte added, harsher than her partner. She refrained from even mentioning Denis.
"Look, there's not much I can do about the past," Hazel insisted. He looked between the conflicted teens. "Don't forget that I'm not the only killer in this room, you've got your own bloody history."
As Five continued to sip at his drink, Charlotte slowly lowered the bottle. It didn't take a genius to realize that the agent wasn't here to kill them. He was being genuine, as much as she didn't want to trust him. Commission agents are evil in their own right.
"Which... that job you did in Calhoun," a small smile was dancing on his lips. "That shit is legendary. And trying to kill the Handler? God, I wish I would have done the same years ago."
Both Five and Charlotte glanced at each other in surprise. "You tried to-" They shook their heads in unison.
"You infiltrated the offices," Hazel said, staring at Charlotte in confusion. "You tried to assassinate her."
Charlotte, who hadn't laid a hand on the woman in her life, scowled as she thought this over. "I didn't try to kill her." Although, now that she was thinking about it, the idea did seem better than just knocking her out.
With a similar look, Hazel shifted. "You didn't? Because I was told that you broke into her office, killed some new recruit, and tried to take out the Handler. You're like- a terrorist, but I'm not going to lie, that was badass."
Of course that's what she told everyone. Just add terrorism to Charlotte's list of ever-growing crimes. How petty could you be?
"Hazel, why are you here?" Five finally broke them out of their side conversation. Her alleged terrorism could be discussed at a later point.
The man looked on sheepishly. "Well-"
A thick rubber boot slammed into the center of Hazel's back and he went careening forward. A figure threw their body over the agent's hunched form. They knew that latex coated man anywhere; it was Diego.
Apparently his search for the people who killed his friend had brought him to his own living room, and he was not letting up.
"Diego, stop!" Five shouted, ready to stand and insert himself in the situation. Beside him, Charlotte watched the men throw each other around in amusement. She drank from her glass as Diego slammed his fists into the agent's head.
"You might want to hear what he has to say." His voice wavered when one of the men collapsed on the same area rug that Charlotte had appeared on not a week before.
Still baffled by what she was accused of, Charlotte watched the fight as she mulled it over. The icy drink was starting to worsen her headache. Part of her just wanted to curl up into a ball and never get up again, but Five was there; maybe attaching herself to him was unhealthy, but it was better than letting herself fall apart.
They winced in unison as Hazel pulled a knife from his own leg. Charlotte almost felt her own stab wound throb painfully at the sight.
"Ooo, that is going to leave a mark."
She turned now, to look at Five again. He was casually watching the fight play out in front of them, as if no part of it was concerning. She observed the soft lines of his face and the slope of his nose. His crooked mouth and pensive gaze were all too familiar now- to the point of comfort. There was only one person Charlotte had ever felt like that around, but this was different in some strange way. There was no underlying fear here, just... adoration.
Five was handsome, which was admittedly weird to think about, considering the strange age gap between them. She shook that thought from her head. She couldn't sit there and think about this infuriating old man and how cute his smug face was.
Luckily, she wouldn't have to, because in that moment, Hazel let out a shout as Diego clamped his teeth down on his ear. Quick to react, Five set his drink down and spatial jumped across the living room.
A glass vase broke over Diego's head, knocking him out rather effectively. "I draw the line at biting," Five said as he limped around the couch to get to Hazel.
Charlotte, who considered biting to be a very valid form of combat, took another sip from her cup, finishing off the drink. "It was just getting good!"
Brushing by a pillar, Five glanced at her in passing. He didn't share the same enthusiasm. "Whatever you came here to say, you better make it quick, before he comes 'round," he told Hazel.
The Commission agent wasted no more time. "I left my partner, quit the Commission, and came here to volunteer," he spoke breathlessly. Blood began to drip down his slacks, staining the expensive fabric.
"For what?" Charlotte questioned as Five settled back down next to her. She was grateful for his company again.
"To stop the apocalypse." Hazel brushed the glass from his shoulders.
Five sucked down more of his margarita with an amused smirk that his partner matched. Right. The apocalypse.
"What on earth could be so funny to you two right now?" The ex agent snapped, looking between the teens in confusion.
Suddenly, Five plucked the tiny umbrella from his glass, wiped the tip of it on his jacket, and leaned over to Charlotte's stool. She froze as he tucked it behind her ear and easily returned to his spot. Her cheeks shone red in an instant.
"Before I answer that, why do you want to help us?" Charlotte tried to cool her face down as he talked, annoyed with herself for getting so flustered over a tiny umbrella in her hair, that was honestly just scratching at her cheek. She couldn't really bring herself to care, though. Whatever motive Five had to do something so oddly affectionate, was enough make Charlotte's mind race with ridiculous ideas.
Hazel steadied himself on his good leg. "Let's just say that I've invested an interest in a donut shop."
"Well, I hate to break it to you pal, but you're a day late and a dollar short. The fact that you're here right now means that- without a shadow of a doubt- the apocalypse is over." His words finally held that sense of finality to them that everyone had been searching for. It was over and Five's knowing smile proved it.
"Really? How do you know?"
"The mark," he swallowed. "He's dead. Found him this morning. You were the last known-unknown left in the equation."
The news was welcomed with a baffled grin. "Shit. Really?"
"Yeah," Five said. He turned back to the bar to set his drink down again. "If you're out, then pale rider ain't riding."
Then Hazel started to laugh with relief. It was over, really over. He pumped his fists and turned it over in his head for a moment before he shuffled over to the bar. "Alright." He took the spot on the other side of Five.
At ease now, the others watched the man pick up the whole separated margarita mixture and take a long gulp. Charlotte watched and took the glass that sat in front of Delores, replacing it with her empty one. She was sure the mannequin wouldn't mind.
"So, now what?"
"Oh, to be honest, I don't know." Five swirled his straw around. His eyes were glued in front of him. "I've been chasing this thing for so long, I never really thought about the day after... I don't know, what about you?"
The man had a very calm look about him now, like he was truly at peace. "I'm done with all this madness. Time to start over. You should do the same," he addressed them both.
"That's easier said than done," Five spoke, really for the both of them.
"It doesn't have to be hard. I mean, think about to this way: If you never time traveled, never got caught up with the Handler, what would've happened?"
Five glanced behind him at his unconscious brother. "I guess I would've grown up to be an emotionally stunted man child like everybody else."
Without missing a beat, Charlotte butted in. "You are, though."
He dismissed this, but Hazel fixed on her. "What about you? What would you have done?"
She scowled at this. It was something she had thought about for years, but could never really form a definite answer on. Without time travel, without Denis, what would she have done?
"I think... I think I would have found something to make me happy. I could have grown up."
"Well," Hazel started. "There you go, you guys can grow up. Good luck."
The remaining people at the bar shared a look.
Turning around, Five stopped him from leaving. "Hazel, one more thing before you go."
"Shoot."
"Which one of you was the trigger-man for detective Patch?"
The agent paused. "Trigger-woman."
Soon enough, the boy, the girl, and the mannequin were left alone at the bar to contemplate their next move.
The paper umbrella tickled Charlotte's cheek as she moved to meet Five's gaze. The silence hung thickly between them now.
"You know, as long as it's been, I don't think I'm ready to grow up."
Chuckling at her remark, Five shook his head at her. "I don't blame you. I didn't really like how I grew up the first time."
"Did you get any taller?" She smiled slyly.
With a small smirk, Five turned back to the bar. "Yes, but you won't."
"Come on," she whined. "I need details. You were one of those get-off-my-lawn motherfuckers, weren't you?"
"I was a distinguished man!"
Rolling her eyes, Charlotte swiveled her stool back and forth. "Uh-huh. Sure."
They shared a grin. Maybe they could fix things. Maybe they could fix things together.