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Five stormed out of the Umbrella Academy, having not been taken seriously (yet again) by his siblings. You awkwardly followed behind, stuffing your hands into some old hoodie you found that seemed to fit your now 13 year old body. It was after one of your first jobs, 2004 you believe though you’ve killed multiple people in multiple times over the years, where you had to kill some rockstar and discovered the ‘hoodie’. Ever since it’s been your chosen loungewear. Modern times were great in that aspect you supposed.
Five stormed down the sidewalk, his shoes meeting the concrete with an angry slap. Although it was hard to take him seriously given the stark difference from the usual appearance of the angry old man you were used to in the commission. You could still see the veins bulging in his neck from pure irritation.
You decided to ask, already regretting coming along to babysit the temper tantrum that was Five Hargreeves and wished you went back to the Commission when you had the chance. “Where are we going?”
Five didn’t turn around, he kept striding forth. “A bar.” No elaboration too. Great.
“Seriously? Five, we’re two thirteen year olds with no ID, there’s no way you’re gettin’ alcohol there.” Though you also thought maybe this was a part of his ‘save the world despite the Commission being against it’ plan.
Five vanished into a blue light and reappeared right in front of you. You almost stumbled right into him, Five never admitted it but he was a crazy drama queen when his angry seemed to control his body rather than his brain. “Listen.” He spat through gritted teeth. “I am getting a drink. If you want to whine then go join the hero circus back at my fathers shit hole of an orphanage.” You hated it when he got like this, all angered over an obvious fact he was too frustrated to properly think through. Still, you decided to let Five do what he wants. If you needed to step in, you would. Just as you did when you were two old farts living in shitty hotels where you bathed in blood.
“Fine.” You shrugged after examining Five’s sneer that he immediately dropped. He looked at your face with a simple nod before pivoting back in the direction he was walking.
“Keep up, I don’t have all day. The apocalypse is still happening whether we like it or not.”
God you regretted ever being assigned to this douche bag of a partner. When you first found out you had a partner, despite your contract being permanent and you being a lone wolf, you marched up to the Handler’s office and demanded otherwise. She shrugged with a bright lipped smile and stated that it was due to a shortage of briefcases. You already knew it was bullshit, the factory workers were pumping those things out daily. Everyone had a briefcase. It was a requirement stated in the handbook. In the rare case that there weren’t enough briefcases for new hires, then they simply would wait until someone retired or died to find a replacement.
The Handler was not someone you wanted to piss off more than you already had. She was nasty in the way a waltz was dangerous in a ballroom with thousands of eyes everywhere.
Five led you two to an Irish pub that served burgers and fries (chips, as they were written on the menu) and much more. A pub was more suitable for two not-really-thirteen year olds rather than a bar, this way you could order some food. The deep pit in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten since that Irish pub in the sixties. You chuckled silently to yourself, what a strange coincidence. Inside the pub was a fiddle being played over a speaker outdated speaker. You could smell alcohol combined with fresh wood and the smoke of a cigar, you felt a longing in your gut you hadn’t felt for awhile.
Five confidently strided past the empty wooden tables—save for an elderly couple and a teenager or two. On the walls were dozens of photographs and tickets. Five sat at the bar confidently, letting his fingers intertwine in front of him. You groaned and followed, already sensing a few pairs of eyes on the two of you. A few pairs too many. Way to be careful, you thought to yourself. You slid onto the stool next to five and brushed off any dirt that was on your jeans.
Five looked at you through the corner of his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you wearing something so casual?”
“You’re asking this now?” Five didn’t respond. So you sighed. “I just don’t want to die wearing an uncomfortable suit. ‘Sides, does it matter?”
Five paused. “It doesn’t, cause you aren’t dying. No. No that’s a job for my idiot family who can’t fucking think about the importance of saving the world.” He gritted his teeth and shook his head, you could feel the angry heat coming off of him.
You stayed silent and watched five gesture as he always did when he went on a tangent. “I’m starting to see why you brought us to a pub.” Even though we can’t drink, you wanted to add.
A young man, who you thought to be early twenties, was wiping a glass from behind the counter and walked over to you and Five.
“Hello! Welcome to O’marley’s! What can I getcha?” He asked with a confident smile that showed one too many teeth. You noticed his accent was off just a little bit and narrowed your eyes carefully. He was too happy. You didn’t trust happy people, especially ones with fake Irish accents.
Five spoke up before you could. “Shot of whiskey. Neat.” Here we go. You tried covering up your disbelief by covering your mouth with your hand.
The fake Irish man laughed loudly and put his hand on his stomach. “Oh you’re a funny one. Love you Americans.”
Five gave him a fake smile. “I’m not kidding. You’re the bartender so… tend to me. I want a shot of whiskey, neat.” You kicked five from under the table. He simply glanced at you instead of getting your hint to drop it.
“You’re not gettin’ that. I don’t even have to check your IDs to know you’re a bunch of middle schoolers.” God this day was already a mess. If this carried on, you and Five were going to get kicked out.
You laughed and patted Five on the back. “Sorry about him, it's a little joke he likes to play, sometimes I join in but we have this essay due tonight. We just thought we’d rest and drink something before we work on school work. So, do you serve coffee? Black?” You wondered with a curve of your lips. The man nodded after giving an unsure laugh as fake as his accent. “Perfect. We’ll have one cup of black coffee, some fries, and a Coke please. No rum!” You giggled maybe a little too loudly. The man awkwardly smiled back.
When the man walked away Five glared at you and clenched one of his fists. “I would’ve gotten a drink out of that.”
“Be happy I saved your ass and we aren’t currently dragging our feet across the concrete.” You shot back, looking around the room to see if anyone witnessed the scene.
Five didn’t respond, instead he impatiently tapped his fingers while waiting for his coffee. The bartender came back and slid a small mug of black coffee towards Five and a Coke towards you. You thanked him.
“Thanks.” Five mumbled.
“Don’t mention it.” You sighed and took a sip of your Coke.
“Why are you so good at that?” Five inquired, instead of sipping his coffee.
“At what?”
“People.”
“Patience gets you more places than being loud and pissy, Five.” You smirked and took another gulp of your Coke.
“Well, I don’t believe that.” Five mumbled while picking up the coffee mug and taking a sip.
You looked at him through the corner of your eye. “The only way we survived the job in 1882 was because of my patience. It was you who pissed off the mark's husband with your snide comment about his mustache.”
Five chuckled at the memory. “That was a job. We finished it in the end with no mistakes.”
“As always.” You added. The two of you sat in a temporary silence, sipping your chosen drinks. Five seemed to have calmed down at least, which was good. Alcohol would’ve made things worse instead of helping. A drunk Five was useless to the world, because he often got carried away.
Five cleared his throat. “Why don’t you ever bring up your family?” You tightened your grip around the glass, the cold water condensation on the outside spilled onto your skin.
“You never ask.” And he shouldn’t have either.
“Well, since the world is ending in a very short amount of time, you might as well let it all out.” He gave you a very fake smile. “Use this opportunity while you can, I’m not asking again.”
You stayed silent, trying to gather your thoughts. “There’s not much to say.”
“Good. Then we’ll just drink our non alcoholic drinks in silence.” Five took a sip of his coffee, he knew you were bullshitting. No one had a simple life in the commission. It seemed everyone came from pain and blood. To you though, there really wasn’t much to say. It happened so long ago that it just didn’t seem to even be a part of your life anymore.
You sighed and simply answered. “My family is dead. Teenage runaway. Lived on the streets in the nineteen twenties. Like I said, not much to say.”
Five finished his coffee with a gulp. “How’d they die?”
You debated, trying not to smell the vomit and sweat from when you were a child who just wanted to play in the tall grass like everyone else your age. Those demons always found a way to creep in when you least expected it. “Spanish flu. Everyone caught it. My three year old sister, as well as my mother. My father hung himself as he couldn’t take the loss and decided the road of selfishness and abandoning his eleven year old kid. Children would see me on the street and chant that nursery rhyme.” You smiled and pitched up your voice. “I had a little bird, and its name was Enza, I opened the window and in flew Enza. In my town I was known as a diseased child, even years later they were worried I was contaminated with it despite it being improbable. That was… forty years ago now. The Handler found me after slitting a guy's throat for some cash right before the depression due to the fact that I didn’t have a family anymore and decided to live on the streets. She came with a job offer and contract wearing that fancy dress of hers for some fuckin’ reason. ‘Didn’t expect her job offer to be an inter dimensional time travel assassin, though I'm not complaining either.”
Five remained silent while you opened up, the two of you sipping your drinks. “I found my family's dead bodies in the apocalypse, still fresh. I don’t think I’ll ever tell them that.” Five hadn’t told you this before. You knew his family died in the apocalypse but not that he found them with rigor mortis barely keeping in. He was like you in a way, surrounded by the bodies of the people you loved the most at such a young age.
“If I could bring my family back, or if I had the ability to try, I’d be like you. Fighting my ass off.” You sighed. You missed your little sister. She was only in your life for three short years, but you still remembered when you held her for the first time. She laughed with a toothless smile. That memory had deteriorated over the years, now being mute and the details changing every time you shut your eyes to see her face.
Sometimes you wish that you took the Handler’s offer to go back to that place of disease and sorrow, because at least you would’ve been with them for a little longer.
Five stared at your sorrow for a second. “We should go back.”
You nodded. “We should.” Your voice cracked and droplets landed on your hands. Somehow you didn’t realize it, but you were crying, you hadn’t cried in decades. “Oh.” Was all you could say.
Five placed his hand on yours and for a short second he locked eyes with you, offering sympathy, before blinking the two of you back to his room in the Academy to plan the next step to save the world— and most importantly Five’s family. He left you alone to cry and process. Even after all these years the wound was fresh and painful.
You never got to eat your fries.