A vast open sky hung overhead. It was clearer that day, the dark gray had faded to a lighter, less polluted cloud of ash. The man standing amongst the rumble took a deep, rumbling breath. The smell wasn't as bad now, either.
Emerging from his small home in the ruins, he stretched his arms out to help shake himself from sleep. He scratched at the straggly beard that encompassed the lower half of his face. If he had a razor, he might have shaved it off, but he didn't and he wasn't sure he could bare to look at himself long enough to do it.
The cracked mirror set up in his home was mostly left alone. If he ever stopped to really look at himself, he might realize that the life had long since drained from his cerulean eyes. Most days he couldn't manage to take in his own appearance, though. The very sight of his grown up face, that hadn't felt like his own for a very long time, was enough to make him dizzy with thoughts.
In all honesty, Five hated the way he had grown up. As silly as it sounds to regret things from so long ago, he still deeply hated how things had played out. If only he hadn't been so hard headed and thick to think that he knew more than he did, maybe he could have stayed with his family and eventually stopped the world from crumbling.
Let's at least wake up before drowning in regret, he thought as he ducked back into his house.
'House' was a term applied loosely to the structure in which Five lived. No one in their right mind would call that open tent of scavenged materials a house.
"Yes, Dolores. I'll make breakfast in a second," he said, trudging back inside.
Sticking straight out of the wagon sitting to the side was his most prized book. At least 75% of the books in the Umbrella Academy were salvageable, and luckily, this was one of them. Found in the wreckage of the Academy was a book written by one of his very own; the author was Vanya Hargreeves.
From the picture of her on the back of the worn cover, he could tell that she grew up to be beautiful. That quiet, timid little girl that used to sit up late at night with him and eat snacks while he restlessly worked on his powers, had grown into her own. She grew out her bangs, and allowed her hair to flow over her shoulders. Her eyes seemed more hollow now, like whatever hope for the world she had left was gone by then. Five would never forgive himself for not being there to watch her grow up.
A makeshift tarp covered the small section of his home, where he would keep what little food he had. The tarp consisted of a lot of different materials haphazardly sewn together. A leather jacket here, a few spare pieces of an actual tarp, a yellow raincoat that still kept it's brightness over the years. He had no idea where that one came from. He found it somewhere in the ruins of the Academy, but it was much too small to have belonged to anyone there.
That would just remain one of the many mysteries stuck in the ruins that he had to accept. The raincoat, the glass eye tucked into his jacket, the bodies... He wouldn't be getting the answers he wanted and he had to deal with that. As if Five was accustomed to reality at that point.
"I know we've had tuna for the past week," he huffed as he began looking through the small pile of cans. "It's all we have."
The mannequin stared ahead lifelessly. She was all he had, as crazy as he knew it was. Unless he wanted to dig up some skeletons, Delores was all he had for company.
The loneliness was unbearable for the first few years. It sat on his chest like a fifty pound weight. He always considered himself a loner. When things were simpler and he was home with his siblings, he always did his best to stay away from their antics, save for a few outings with them. Five regretted not taking the chance to spend time with them more than anything. Their absence left a hole in his heart too big to possibly fill.
And that's not even half of it.
Fingers struggling to pull the tab to the surely expired tuna can, Five silently prayed, for the thousandth time, that a jar of peanut butter and a big bag of marshmallows would fall from the sky. What he wouldn't give for a single bite of the familiar childhood snack.
He groaned in frustration when one of his thin nails broke. The can clattered when it fell on the cracked concrete.
"Shit," he hissed, shoving the afflicted finger in his mouth. Tears swam in his eyes at the sting, but he let them stay. Being numb was exhausting.
A tear slid down his cheek, cutting a trail in the dirt there. Another followed, and another. Soon he was sitting on the ground with the unopened tuna can, a bloody finger, and a broken heart.
Five looked up to the gray sky and screamed in anguish.
Delores looked on blankly.
-----
"But let's get down to business: I want to offer you a position."
Insane was the only word fitting this situation. Dizzy with the conflicting thoughts rushing around in her head, Charlotte ran a sticky hand through her hair. There was blood streaking those copper locks now.
A humorless laugh left her pale lips. "A position!" She exclaimed shakily. "You want to offer me a position."
"Yes," the Handler asserted. "Along with a handsome paycheck, a pension, and your first task."
The crazy woman's navy skirt swayed and Charlotte stared down at the silk as she thought. She tried to ignore the blood drying on her skin. She had to try even harder to ignore the body stiffening on the lush rug behind her. He was really dead and Charlotte was lost.
"You're fucked up. You really think I'm going to work with you after everything you've done?"
The Handler dismissed the bitter tone of the girl in front of her. "I think anyone with any kind of common sense would at least consider it. We could make something of you. Denis-" She glanced down at the dead man on her floor. "He was arrogant and he limited you. You are a skilled woman and you could do something with that, really make a difference."
The idea bounced around her crowded mind for a moment. She hated the Commission and always had, but the offer was surprisingly tempting. "You wanted me dead for decades," she simply pointed out.
Waving this off with a gloved hand, the Handler grinned. "Oh, it's all water under the bridge, right? All that matters now, is that your partner is dead and you are free to do whatever you'd like."
Free. What a sick, twisted idea of freedom. Free from his lies and control, sure, but Denis would never fully leave Charlotte. His mark was stamped way too deep for him to stop affecting her, even in the afterlife.
But she could do something with her life now. She could chose whatever path presented to her. There was Five and the Hargreeves, but did they hold any promise? They were like her, the first Charlotte had ever met, but could she have a future with them? And if so, a future doing what? Killing was familiar, it was something she knew she was good at.
"What's the first task?" She inquired, testing the waters.
A new, more sinister look found the Handler's face. Her bandages wrinkled. "Well, should you accept my offer, we would need a few trials to prove your loyalty, wouldn't we?"
"Cut the shit," Charlotte snapped. She had no patience for this. All she wanted to do was collapse in a heap of tears, but the longer this lady jabbed, the longer she had to keep it together. "What do you want me to do?"
"I believe you know an ex-employee here, other than your beloved Denis." Charlotte flinched at the name, but kept her eyes forward. Looking back at his body would only make this worse. "Five Hargreeves is an acquaintance of yours. He's a skilled killer, as you know. He's also adept at escaping our clutches. I want him dead."
A laugh bubbled up in her throat before she could swallow it back. "Five? You want me to murder Five?"
"Now, I don't like the term 'murder'." The Handler had picked up a small dagger from her desk by then and was twirling it between her hands. If the woman wasn't so calm about the situation, Charlotte would have thought that she was about to get stabbed. "'Take out', maybe even 'get rid of', those are more fitting."
This was something that Charlotte didn't need to contemplate. It was off the table, totally bonkers. Maybe she was getting soft, just a few weeks before this she wouldn't have even hesitated at the thought of killing an acquaintance, but she couldn't do it now. Not to Five.
"Forget it. I don't need a job, especially from you."
Face falling and her fingers clenching the dagger tighter, the blonde took a step forward. "It's a shame, because I was really looking forward to working with you. You must be weaker than Denis said you were."
Out of all the wrong things Denis would have called Charlotte, weak was not one of them.
She sensed the mood shift before the Handler moved. Charlotte jumped back, narrowly evading the sharp knife aimed to swipe across her chest. With a scowl, she let adrenaline take over and began to search for a weapon to use.
No knife, no gun; Charlotte was empty handed. She dove for a decorative vase sitting on a shelf behind her and spun back to the crazed woman before her.
The Handler easily stepped over Denis's body, heels clacking on the hardwood. "Now this is disappointing."
"God, you're a nutcase!" Charlotte exclaimed as she broke the bulbous part of the vase against the wall, like one might do to a beer bottle. She held the jagged remains of the pottery out defensively.
Just barely avoiding another jab of the dagger, Charlotte yelped and disappeared from view. In the moment, she hadn't paid enough attention to everything she held and the vase was still mostly visible. The Handler blindly stabbed at the air.
When she reappeared, she was to the Handler's side and it took it all but a millisecond to spin towards her. She probably would have stabbed Charlotte in the chest if she hadn't tripped over Denis's body this time, forcing her to the bloodied floor.
The redhead didn't get the chance to backup before the knife was forced deep into her upper leg. She let out a scream at the searing pain just as the blade twisted. In an effort to get away from the pain, Charlotte slammed the vase down on the Handler's head, leaving shards of hard clay raining down on the dead body beneath them.
The dagger stayed in her flesh after the Handler lay limp over the corpse. She wasn't dead, just unconscious, but that would give Charlotte enough time to make her escape. She limped a few feet over to dig Denis's wallet from his pocket as an afterthought. A token.
The alarms were still ringing outside of the office, but the halls reminded empty. Just in case, Charlotte clenched her jaw, allowing the vale of invisibility to cloak her and prepared herself for the excruciating journey out of the Commission building and to where she planted the briefcase she used to get there.
A tear slipped as she left the office. That was the last she would be seeing of Denis and as much as she wanted it to be, it hurt.
Of fucking course the Handler accused Charlotte of trying to kill her. That woman was insane.
Teeth gritted, Charlotte sat on the edge of her bed with the contents of Denis's wallet spread out on her lap. A few peppermints, a fake driver's license, a small photo.
She swallowed at the sight. It fit perfectly in her palm. She squinted down at the grainy photo of a time long past and took in the details of photograph. The forced smile on her own face, Denis's grin and tight hands around her waist. God, she had always hated the way he touched her, like she was his and she was something to be kept close.
The way he cradled her face when she was scared always made her feel small. In that moment the paper umbrella scratched at her cheek, as if to remind her of how different things were now. As if to remind her of Five.
A knock sounded at her door then and Klaus's voice was heard from the other side. "Hey, Red. Could I come in?"
In a panic, Charlotte threw all of the items off her lap and wiped her sweaty hands on the borrowed dress she wore. "Yeah."
It opened and Klaus simply stood in the doorway, staring at her with a sort of lost look on his face. He clasped his hands together. "So... I have a bit of a predicament."
Confused, Charlotte narrowed her eyes. "And?" It felt strange to have Klaus go to her for anything.
"And I kind of need to know how you knew my old dealer."
Denis. Good God, she could never escape this man. The wound was too fresh. "Why would you want to know?"
He scratched at the back of his neck. "I just- I mean you have a lot of ghosts, and I mean that literally. I just wanted to know if you guys were close."
Scrubbing her hands down her cheeks, Charlotte groaned. She didn't like where this was going one bit. "We were partners, roommates, whatever you want to call it."
A chill had entered the room and she slid her hands down her arms to keep the goosebumps away. It was like the air around her had turned to ice.
"Okay, okay. That's good."
"Pardon?"
Klaus turned his attention back to her. "Oh, I mean not good. Not good at all. I'm sorry for your loss."
She had never mentioned Denis's death to anyone other than Five. "You- how do you know about that?" As she spoke, the realization hit her. Klaus saw dead people, he saw ghosts that still roamed earth. Klaus had seen multiple dead people around her already, assuming those that she had assassinated.
Her eyes bulged and her head whipped around as if she would actually catch a glimpse of a spirit.
Klaus suddenly realized his mistake. Perhaps her talking to Denis was a bad idea. She seemed horrified at the thought of Denis haunting her. "Five told me!" He lied. "After we got Allison patched up, he told me."
She didn't look convinced. Her head swerved from side to side, looking for something she couldn't see.
"Klaus, what are you doing?"
He ignored Ben's question and made his decision. Charlotte had enough going on. He wasn't sure what had gone down between her and Denis, but it wasn't something he should be bringing up with her. He could tell that it was hurting her, scaring her even to think of him. "He's not here."
They made eye contact. The girl certainly had doubts, but something told him that she was happier to drop the conversation than challenge him. "Good. That's good."
"She can't see me. Klaus, why can't she see me?!"
"I wouldn't want to see him, you know?" Charlotte added.
Hands waving frantically, Denis tried to get the redhead's attention. "I'm right here, God damnit! Lottie, come on."
Klaus nodded. "Yeah. No, of course."